tell us about your most memorable...

[AberFowl]

FLIGHT...

 

I have read all my fowling books again during the off season and have run out of stories to read...the season is drawing ever nearer and I find myself down at the edge of the local estuary and wandering the riverbanks remembering all those flights when good bags have been made, them memorable shots but mostly my mind trails back to those flights when the gun lay beside me and not a shot was fired but my time well spent witnessing the wild awake and drift off into darkness..

 

Lets hear about your most memorable flight.....

[Penelope]

A couple of them. These were from last season posted previously on here.

 

Last weekend I spent 3 days shooting, two trips to the coast and a day's pheasant shooting.

 

Friday the 13th, Lucky for some!

 

I had arranged a trip via the BASC permit scheme to visit the Wash with Muncher for Friday, 13th Nov. The morning arrived with the alarm screaming at 2am, bleary eyed, I flew out of bed exited by the prospect of seeing and hopefully getting a shot at a pinkfoot or two. Recent weather reports of storm Abigail increasing that excitement; a randomly booked day coinciding with some proper weather is a rare occurrence.

 

Dressed and flask made I set off from Sou'fend on Mud for the 2 1/2 hour drive to the rendezvous with Muncher who I was due to meet at 5:15am in a remote Fenland village. I arrived about 10 minutes before the allotted time to find Muncher and his truck waiting for me. Brief pleasantries exchanged we set of to a desolate carp park huddled under the sea wall. There were one or two other fowlers already there with assorted hounds in tow and a discussion ensued about who had planned to go where. As the pegs were being drawn, another truck arrived and I was greeted by the sites very own Motty, who would be joining Muncher and I in our morning's quest. Soon we were all donned in rubber and camo and set of on the trek along the sea wall.

Abigail had yet to put in much of an appearance but there was still a brisk breeze blowing up from the south west.

 

After a while we left the sea wall and struck out across the saltings, still dark, still no gale. On the way out Muncher asked me what cartridges I had with me, to which I answered 'Gamebore steel 1's'. 'Here, take a couple of these' he said, as he handed me two of his hevishot home loads 'stick 'em in the choke barrel' referring to the left barrel of my Midland magnum.

 

With the tide due at about 7am, which would fill the creeks and just slop out on to the top of the marsh we stayed about 70 yards in from the mud edge and found homes for the morning in some little runnel creeks around 50yards apart. I erected a scrap of netting, laid out the gun sticks and loaded up, not forgetting to put one of the big thumpers in the left barrel.

Motty mentioned that a few days previous, the geese had started to leave the mud early, but on this day it was light before the first skeins started tracing across the sky to our south, smudges in the far distance growing and forming into skeins of those wonderful birds.

Muncher had a crack at a skein that went over to his right, but missed followed by an expletive and a 'I should of had those'. By now the tide had flooded me out of my creek, so the net was repositioned a yard to the left as I tried to remain hidden laying in a couple of inches of water. Due to the exposed nature of our positions, the good light and no Abigail the geese were seeing us and giving just a wide enough berth to keep them safe.

 

A little bunch headed towards me at a good height and started to veer left, as I lay watching hoping they would swing closer, but they continued on there allotted path. There was a single a little lower and a little closer (but not much) which I had my eye on, when I heard Muncher shout out 'Go on Paul'. To be honest, if I had just had the steel I wouldn't have raised the gun, but I know and have seen what Muncher's home loads can do if pointed right, so I sloshed up onto my knees, pushed the catch forward, found the back trigger and swung. To the crump, the single pink threw back it's head and spiralled down into the tide in a welter of spray. By far the furthest goose I have killed! A cry from Motty behind me 'Bloody good shot!' increased the smile on my face; it's nice to have these things witnessed. To round things off, Muncher's young bitch Rudi, made a great 70 yard blind retrieve from the tide edge which was a pleasure to watch.

 

A short while later I was brought back down to earth with a miss from a single shot of the remaining 'Muncher's Special'. But was I disappointed, hell no, a pink on my first coastal trip of the year. Soon after it was clear that the flight was over so we slowly made our way back to the cars. Motty, said his goodbyes as he had to work, but Muncher and I went for a well earned breakfast before going back to his for some R&R before evening flight on the Ouse Washes.

 

We arrived at washes for about 2:30 with a brisk wind blowing with the intention of sitting on the bank to while away some time before flighting light and the arrival of Muncher's brother, but the covering of water and the odd party of duck on the wing, saw us kit up set out for the ankle deep flood water. With no cover on the bare wash we hung some nets off of poles about 80 yards apart and awaited events. Odd lots of duck were dropping in on the Delph side of the wash so Muncher moved and headed off in that direction. A few Golden Plover kept me entertained, difficult shots at fast low birds in the wind, finally dropping one, my first, the other side of a dyke, which was picked later by Rudi, although she wasn't sure what to make of it first.

 

When the flight came it was eventful, although I was out of it, wigeon, teal, greylag and Canada geese were all seen and offered opportunities and were put in the bag and I witnessed what was the strongest mallard flight that I have seen on the washes. Soon it was time to say my goodbyes and head back home with a pinkfoot goose and golden plover in the bag.

When the goose was dressed out for the Christmas table I found a wound under the chin and two along it's neck, upfront and nutted as some would say.

 

Saturday interlude.

 

Saturday was spent on the game syndicate in Essex that I am a member of on one of the 10 walk one stand one pheasant days. Although the prediction was for rain, we were lucky and only had one drive after lunch in the wet. The bag for the day was 40 pheasants and a Jay, with 6 and the jay falling to my gun, the highlight being a hen on the Priory drive that I took high and well in front.

 

More Fenland Fun!

 

Sunday, the alarm going off earlier than Friday, at 1am as I had to be at Sutton Bridge for 4am to meet Fenboy who would be guiding me on another BASC permit day. Although the excitement was there again, the lure of the bed and the warm blonde were a little harder to drag myself away from. On the road for 1:30am, passing the late night revellers still about in Sou'fend. The miles passed quickly and I was soon at Sutton Bridge. I unloaded my kit into fenboy's car and we set off to a part of the Wash further round the coast into darkest Lincolnshire. We met up with a friend of fenboy, Dewayne who knew the marsh we were going out like the back of his hand, which is always good on a strange marsh.

 

The walk out was easy enough, and even in the dark I could tell that this marsh was of a different make up to the coast further south, this being covered in long rank grass, which had had cattle run over it to graze.

 

Dewayne led us to a large creek intersection, in which the tide was just starting to filter up, so no time was lost in placing a few mixed wigeon and teal decoys, as duck were the intended quarry today, the pinkfeet having moved recently according to fenboy. Once the deeks were fenboy and I set up a couple of hides close to each another and waited on the teal and then wigeon that he had seen stream across a few days earlier, which would hopefully come for a look see at the decoys as the tide rose to it's height, expected at about 9am. The strong wide should help us too.

 

It was very quite at dawn and fenboy was wondering whether the wide had shifted the duck, as the expected teal flight didn't materialise and the wigeon were no where to be seen. Although it's hard when you take people out and want to show them some sport, I was none too despondent as I was enjoy the sights and sounds of a marsh new to me.

 

It was fully light before we saw any action, and came by way of a small bunch of pinks that we saw about a third of a mile away. The were very low and out in front to our right; a couple of 'wink, winks' from us and the little party came right into us at no height at all.

Earlier that morning, fenboy had kindly given me two of his special homeloads,heavy weight this time, which I stuffed in when the geese were some way off, expecting them to pass wide. In a complete opposite to Friday morning, these pinks decided to have a look down the barrels to see what we were using they came so close. In hindsight it would have been just as well to leave the duck squibs in.

My first shot dropped one dead in the creek and fenboy confirmed his first double, my second shot found thin air as they climbed and turned on the wind. What an excellent start to the day, two geese in two foreshore visiting and my second and third coastal pinks.

 

From then on ducks started to flight, a few teal, but mostly wigeon, high for the main, but enough in range to warm the barrels. As the tide started to fall away we were treated to the sight of the most impressive wigeon flight, what looked like smoke in the distance, turning in to flock after flock of whistling and growling ducks from one side of the marsh to the other. I don't think I'd be exaggerating if I say I saw 5,000 plus wigeon that morning. fenboy, Dewayne and I had some good shooting, and I was particularly pleased with one very high wigeon that just folded to my shot (relived in the car park as Dewayne got it on video). There was some great game finding by both fenboy's dog Milo and Dewayne's Moseley who retrieved ducks across the flooded creek.

 

After what was easily one of my most memorable morning flights my bag was three teal, four wigeon and a pink, with two pinks and 3 wigeon to fenboys gun. I believe Dewayne had a pintail duck and a couple of wigeon too.

 

After spending a few hours at fenboys, we were back for evening flight on the same marsh but in a different area, again we were treated to the wonderful sight of all those wigeon as they went back out to the mud. No shots this time, but fantastic memories.

 

I'd like to say a public thank you to Muncher, Motty, fernboy, Dewayne, farma geddon and not forgetting Rudi, Milo and Moesley, without who there would have been nothing in the back.

A total of 647 miles driven over the three days too.

 

 

 

Edited July 18, 2016 by Penelope

[anser2]

Great stuff Penelope