It’s always difficult shooting over standing crops at this time of year.
Yesterday afternoon’s wander resulted in three birds shot, three birds lost, for fewer than 10 cartridges fired (9, I think it was), suggesting that the adjustments I made to the stock of the semi-automatic 12 gauge I own represent an improvement. I should also have hit two easy, departing crows which popped out of a hedge just after I arrived at the second farm I visited, but even having missed those, my shooting still took a step in the right direction.
I was shooting a 12 gauge again. Much as I’d prefer something smaller, an ammunition shortage related to the renewal of my shotgun certificate prevails and three of my guns are out of action until I’ve sorted out the fitting issues affecting them. A friend has offered to lend me a leather slip-on stock extension that will hopefully mitigate the issues I’ve described previously: I should be able to pick it up this week, test it and order my own if it confirms my suspicion that the stocks of those guns would benefit from being a little longer.
The .410, meanwhile, will get another outing as soon as it’s possible to do some more patterning (yesterday’s conditions were, once again, unhelpfully windy, in spite of the sunshine) or as soon as I’m able to obtain some more cartridges for it with which I’m actually happy to hunt. Supplies of acceptably performant cartridges are running somewhat low after the previous pattern testing trip and what remains in the cupboard is probably better kept for future confirmatory testing.
Losing birds is frustrating, but sometimes unavoidable. Trampling down dry rapeseed ready for harvest or leaving tracks in standing barley does not make one popular with one’s landowner, so I had to leave two of yesterday’s birds for the foxes. A third folded overhead and fell – rather disobligingly – the other side of the boundary along which I was walking and would have necessitated committing the offense of trespass to retrieve it. Happily, all were cleanly shot before they went down.
It was not an entirely bad afternoon. At one point, I stalked to within 3-4 yards of a young hare, which took several confused attempts to discern that I might actually be a predator and that it was worth “disappearing” in haste. It eventually did, without my interference. Later, a roe doe leapt away over the crop in typical “pogo stick” fashion, appearing above the rape as though a dolphin breaking the surface and diving again, which was amusing to watch.
I also discovered, first by catching its scent, a large clump of Nepeta (I’m not sure which subspecies) growing wild at the edge of the treeline on one of the fields I circumnavigated, which was somewhat unexpected. I rather like that plant and have grown it in my garden in the past. I wonder now if I should perhaps have cut some of it down – it was undoubtedly a weed – and taken it home for the purpose of making tea. I was pleased to find more of it later on, close to where I set up a hide for an hour to see if anything would turn up.
In the end, not much did. I faffed with the decoys and the magnet several times in the hope of drawing some of the birds that were feeding in the middle of the field away from their flight lines, but other than a few interested looks from afar, not much turned up. My best chance was a bird from behind that surprised me – I mounted the gun poorly and missed over the top as it disappeared. A couple more shots punctuated an hour or so mostly sitting, enjoying the smells and the bumblebees on the many flowering weeds and nettles in which I was sitting.
Having left my telephone in my car, I had no idea what time it was and a nagging feeling that I was expected home soon prevailed. I packed up and returned to the vehicle to find that it was 16:07 and that I could have had longer if only I’d known. This was particularly irritating given that, having packed up and put put my gun into its slip, a small group of pigeons flew straight towards the trees in which I was standing, veering off only at such a short distance that even I couldn’t have missed them!
I departed with the strong impression that, if I’d arrived at roughly the time I was leaving and stayed for a few hours rather than going home then, that I’d probably have managed 10 or 20 birds. I’ll never know.
I’m supposed to be feeding one of my wife’s friends pigeon burgers next week. I’m hoping to have some better success between now and then…