Stepping from the motor into my own frosted breath, I applauded myself for adding an extra base layer to the shooting attire this morning. The low winter sun wasn’t going to win against a scything Easterly breeze today. Before donning my shooting mitts I loaded two magazines with .22 Air Arms field diablo pellets. I … Continue reading Long Walk, Little Rifle
The low winter sun that blinded me on the drive to the wood augured well for an extended shooting session. It was 2.30 pm on the penultimate day of the year. It would make a welcome change to stand in the dry after what seems like weeks of torrential rain. I’d already checked the wind … Continue reading A Red Sky Roost Shoot
Dawn is an enchanting time for the shooter and wildlife observer. Today, on the cusp of the winter solstice, it came late and allowed me to linger longer in the comfort of my bed. I woke to wind and rain battering the south-facing bedroom window, yet the temptation of lazing was immediately dismissed. For today … Continue reading Wildscribbler’s Diary – December 2019
The Night Before Boxing Day She pulls up her collar and tugs down her cap Her ruddy cheeks stung by the Eastern winds slap. With rifle on shoulder, and spaniel at side She sets off for a last check of covert and ride. It’s now snowing lightly, the sun lowering red She leaves behind family, … Continue reading The Night Before Boxing Day
The walk around one of my shooting permissions this morning was later that usual. The crows laughed at my tardiness and most of the grey squirrels had gone back to the dreys to sleep off breakfast. Not that I was worried. I stole through the wood with a grin like the proverbial Cheshire cat. The … Continue reading The Complete Airgunner – #amwriting #amhunting
The mellow Autumn morning mists have given way to more sombre weather already. We’ve yet to see a first frost here in East Anglia but the overnight temperatures have hit middle-scale single figures. The driven-shooting fraternity are two weeks into their sport where the birds have matured. I won’t join in, despite generous invitations. Put … Continue reading Wildscribbler’s Diary – October 2019
It’s been pouring for an hour now and I sit here listening beneath my glass canopy; the drumskin of a rainwater percussionist. The sound, like a rock anthem or a classical overture, is awesome. Not just because it’s natural, not just because it’s rhythmic, but because it pulses like the push of blood through an … Continue reading Rain Dance
I stepped outside and the cool morning mist caressed my face like a lover's gentle kiss. The swirl of vapour swathed the motor and for the first time since winter, I had to scrim the moisture from the windows of the vehicle. The yellow halo of a veiled sun was already auguring an Indian Summer … Continue reading Wildscribbler’s Diary – September 2019
The early morning air in my SUV was blue with curses as I drew onto the farm. I’d spent the previous evening gathering my decoying kit and studying expected weather and wind for the morning. I woke and loaded the motor with a very definite field in mind which adjoined a small copse that would … Continue reading A Morning On The Stubbles
On the second weekend in August (while the rest of the UK was subjected to a battering, torrential rain, and flooding) here in East Anglia we got off lightly with just warm, gale-force winds. Yet the temperature was about 26C. It reminded me of the tent-tearing ‘scirocco’ I endured on my only ever camping trip … Continue reading When The Wind Blows
