A hunter's paradise in Vermont

''It seems like people that deal with money like to shoot," he said.

Increasingly, they are also women. When we caught up with Predom, she had just scored some hits.

''It's fun," she said. ''There are a lot of people who don't hunt who like to shoot, and what they shoot is clays."

Back at the house, Fallar held a pheasant by the legs. It was a beauty, with a scarlet head and iridescent feathers in a complex weave of russet and gray. It struggled, beating its wings. Downy tufts floated onto the snow.

Admiring it, I was just as glad not to be around for its demise. As it is not a species native to Vermont, I wondered how long it could survive even if it got away. Maybe the cold would do it in. Fallar, though, said its biggest threat was predation. If humans didn't get it, the animals would, either bobcats, hawks, owls, or coyotes, which have become so plentiful that the state has declared an open season on them.

I asked Fallar about Schwarzkopf. It turns out he had come to preside at a benefit, and had stayed at The Equinox, an upscale Manchester resort. How many birds did he kill? None, Fallar said. He shot clays.

''He was a good shot."

Diane E. Foulds is a freelance writer in Burlington, Vt.