A bitter north-easterly breeze, born somewhere beyond the Arctic Circle, slapped at my bare skin like a schoolmasters strop. The touch of the blued steel on my rifles barrel threatened to stick-freeze to my gloveless fingers. Abandoning the ‘hard-hunter’ pose I donned a pair of shooting mitts, pulled a snood down around my neck and … Continue reading A Woodwitch In The Cross-Hairs
I cross between two coverts following the tractors trail between a thigh high crop, under a cloudless azure sky. The fronds are still glistening with dawns dew and my trousers are soaked. A head pops up just five yards from me, amid the barley, startling me. Then a second head. Then a third, a … Continue reading Control and Conscience
Another walk out this morning with my little rimfire saw me return with a full five-round clip, yet again. On a bitterly cold morning, with icicles hanging from the alloy field gates, I didn’t expect to see much in the way of vermin. Even the hoar-hardened plough forbade the probing beak of rook or … Continue reading A Simple Blast Of Air
The decision this morning wasn’t whether to brave the winter weather. It was what guns to take? Looking out of the windows at home I could see the light boughs of young yew and cedar bending under a Northerly blow. In the habit lately of taking both air rifle and rimfire, I glanced at the … Continue reading The Buzzard and The Betrayal
The crunch of all-terrain tyres on the hoar hardened gravel sent a white scut diving into the scrub lining the gateway; the rabbit lost amongst the wilting and frosted nettle die-back. At the tailgate I paused to take stock. The morning after the Woodcock moon. All around me the heightening sun glittered on the blanket … Continue reading Woodcocks and Witches
Sometimes I want nothing more than to sit back from the current round of pro & anti-hunting banter and just get on with my (hunting) life. Today the good folk at The Countryman's Weekly, for whom I write, accidently pointed me in the direction of a seriously worrying piece of biased journalism in The … Continue reading Anti-Hunting? Be Careful What You Wish For!
(An early extract from my forthcoming poetry collection.) "What Can You Scent On The Wind, Old Hound?" What can you scent on the wind, old hound, As you stand with your nose to the gale? What pheromones float on the breeze, all around? And if you could talk, of what tale? The coney's are out … Continue reading “What can you scent on the wind, old hound?”
The rising influence of social media engagement won’t have been lost on anyone reading this blog … because doing so means you have a PC, tablet or mobile phone. Many of us will be logged into social media sites such as Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, Instagram, WhatsApp etc. We might be members of select groups on … Continue reading Un-Social Media; The Hunter’s Bane
My latest book, A Year In Eden, is a diversion from my usual shooting titles and sees the completion of a project I long ago promised myself I would complete. I love wildlife watching and get to visit some of Norfolk’s ‘forgotten corners’ while shooting. I always carry a quality camera with me; either a … Continue reading A Year In Eden: The Fauna And Flora Of A Norfolk Estate
The last week or so has been an unexpected holiday for me as I wait between jobs. Every cloud has a silver lining, they say and I’ve been able to take advantage of the time to do what I love best. Wandering field and wood with gun, dog and camera. This a terrific time of … Continue reading The Rising Of The Sap
