adzyvilla

I'm significantly younger than you lot being in my early 40s, but I can remember a few things that would be very familiar to what you have written here, but would boggle the minds of millennials. We still had sacks of coal delivered into the coal shed when I was very young before dad had gas central heating put in (I think I was 8 or 9 so that must have been around 1990), that really made a difference to our 150 year old farmhouse, but having the fireplaces in the bedrooms bricked up felt weird. Living on a farm we often had rag and bone men and scrap merchants call in, we used to get some magnificent fruit baskets from them at Christmas. Milk was free from our own cows, as were eggs and shop bought meat was a rarity until mum went to work full time. We still had a 50p electric meter in the late 80s, and the telly was a 14" black and white, and we only had one. The insurance man used to call round on the last Friday of the month to collect his money. The other thing I remember is my dad buying a little lock to put on the rotary dial phone to stop my sisters using it the tight old ******!

What a beautiful and diverse country yours is. You've done more miles in 2 weeks than I manage in a year!

Many mornings on my way to work just after 5 I drive past a muntjac that stands on the verge just in front of a road sign on a tight left hand turn, waits for me to pass and then strolls across to the other side and disappears into the wood. Must have seen it 50 times or more in the last couple of years but it never ceases to amaze me that this particular deer appears to have acquired some road sense. Deer are at plague proportions here in mid Norfolk and not a day goes by that I don't see fresh one knocked down. I've had plenty of near misses with everything from Chinese water deer right upto a whole herd of reds crossing the B1065

I have a forester, the last of the manuals (2018) and I've had an xv and an older outback in the past. I don't think you can beat subaru for all round ability. As others have said, tyres make a difference but I've been places in a subaru on cheapo tyres that many other cars on expensive rubber wouldn't touch. Get an outback if you like the estate look although I'd argue a forester is slightly more practical. Nothing wrong with the cvts but autos aren't my thing. Sad that subaru won't be making a manual car in future, my current car will be my last.

Are you available Friday during the day or would the weekend be more convenient?

Hi I would be very interested in these. I'm up in Cromer on Friday is that anywhere near to you?

Never underestimate the squirrel. The estate i do most of my shooting on has a full time pest controller who traps 365 days a year and took well over 200 just from tunnel traps last year. We shot 51 over two beaters days and the keeper likes to shoot them whenever he sees them. But ive still never seen as many there. I think the recent mild winters and overabundance of food have been very beneficial to the tree rats, coupled with their own ability to breed all year round and produce large litters.

Cheers MM. Agreed, its been a disappointing season really. I'm mixed about next week to be honest. If the keeper says there is anyone else out I will probably go, if only to try and keep the birds moving. Plus there are a couple of sticks I'd like to cut before the sap rises too far.

Time: 14:45 Location: Mid Norfolk Conditions: Mostly sunny, still, 8°c Joined by father again for a grumpy cameo, I think mum forced him out of the house before the risk of serious injury became severe. He has rat issues in the sheds since the wet weather has forced them to find drier haunts and his mind was firmly on fenn traps and cat food bait. Over a quick cuppa we discussed our prospects and we both agreed they didn't look very hopeful. Still, it was nice weather to be out in, if not good weather for shooting pigeons. Approaching via the usual route, we drove down the track between the (still) standing maize and the shelter belt that runs at right angles from the estate road and watched as a hundred or more woodies flitted out and away above us, scattering into distance. Of interest to me was the plague of squirrels running out of maize and into the ivy clad trees that line the edge of the belt. It was then that I decided they needed my attention more than the pigeons at this point of the afternoon, so we parked up by the release pen and went our separate ways. With the dog pretending we were out beating, working the undergrowth while I had my eyes firmly fixed on the treetops, we worked our way back along the centre of the belt. I blasted any drey I saw, much as I had done a few weeks previously when we had taken this belt through on beaters day but much as then, nobody was home. As we neared the end the dog put two pheasants up and they made their disapproval at our disturbance well voiced as they flew off out over the park. Walking back up the side of the maize I flushed one squirrel out and bowled it over before it made the safety of the trees. It was as big as a rabbit and heavy, grown fat on the remnants of the maize cobs. Thoughts now returning to pigeons, I made my way into the carr. Wednesdays heavy rain had caused the river to rise right up into the carr and my usual spot was ankle deep in murky water. It had also disrupted my makeshift bridge so I spent some minutes repairing it as best I could and made my way to the northern (higher) side of the wood to find a dry place to stand. Much like JDog a few weeks ago, I found the midges had awoken from their slumber and were dancing in the shafts of sunlight that were cutting through the trees. At least I didn't have to wait long for my first chance and got on the scoresheet straight away as an unwary woodie flared in for a landing right above me. My second shot accounted for another as a bird startled by the bang chose the wrong flightpath and crashed down into the flood water to my right. Dog dispatched for the wet one, I picked the other and we settled in to see what the rest of the afternoon had in store. From the sound of it, the few of my comrades that were out were having a busy time. Jonsey (aka the one Saturday wonder) was missing again so dad and I had this end of the estate to ourselves. Although a fair few pigeons were flitting about, they weren't following the usual flightlines choosing instead to appear at random all around me, seemingly teleporting into the sky and disappearing again whenever they chose, making the shooting tough and sporadic. I focused on picking off (or at least trying to) any birds that came to rest in the pine trees in front of me and had a little success but none of the shots were clear. Two more in the bag for half a dozen shots. The shooting seemed to have fizzled out for everyone as the number of shots echoing around me died away until there was almost silence. The birds were there, but no longer wanting to commit, and the latter part of the afternoon became a frustrating waiting game. Dad joined me as the sun dipped below the horizon and I could see he was itching to return home. His measly 4 shots, with his more familiar miroku 20b had returned nothing but more grumpiness, but at least he can no longer blame his new gun for this misses. We wrapped up after I had loosed a final few shots at some of the cloud bothering birds that flew over me, more out of boredom than anything but I needn't have bothered. The option is there to go next week, but unless the weather is more favourable I don't think I'll bother.

Maybe purely coincidence or a clue to their rarity (or commonality), but my non shooting mate at work handed me a bag of a dozen or so mixed cartridges earlier this week as he is settling his fathers estate and found them in a draw. There were two of these same purdey cartridges in there.

Yes, last bungalow on the way out of the village. Having lived on farms his entire life he couldn't bear living amongst other houses. To be fair, we had a good crowd out today. Only jonesy wasn't out so pretty much all 17 big woods covered except 1. This was easily the best roost shoot so far this year, and I've heard from a couple of the other lads who had good afternoons. There was easily twice the amount of shots ringing out today. I can only hope next week is as good.

I had a picture book when I was younger that told the story of an oak tree from when it was planted in pre Norman times by a forgetful jay all the way through to the second world war. It was wonderfully illustrated and I dearly wish I still had it. I'm sure this tree could tell some similar tales.

thanks, I do enjoy writing these out.

Time: 14:30 Location: Mid Norfolk Conditions: Overcast and mild, light SSW winds with occasional gusts, intermittent drizzle. What can I say? The omens looked pretty good today following an early morning phone call. In a recovery of Lazurus like proportions, the prodigal father announced that he was to rise from his fireside armchair, don his boots and venture forth into the wilds of Norfolk in search of pigeons. The slightly later start accounted for by the fact that when I pulled into the driveway at my parents home, he was busy cleaning out the guttering and had to finish his task before we could go. From whence this burst of youthful exuberance? No idea, but long may it continue. On approach we took the long way round in an attempt to suss out what might lay in store for us, and this last minute reconnaissance yielded some promising intel. We could see stacks of birds flitting from wood to wood, seemingly at random but it must have made some sense to them. We also noted that none of the maize strips or bird mixes had been flailed yet, with the farm foreman busy flailing hedges all across the estate instead. Parking at the opposite (dry) end of the wood meant a long walk for me and leaving dad in his favourite hidey hole, I made my way along what I could see of the riverbank. The carr was, if anything more flooded than last week. I situated myself and the dog in the driest patches I could find and was immediately in amongst the birds. In a brief purple patch I had 3 for my first 4 shots, including my first 2 dead in the air at the same time, a feat I hadn't previously accomplished roost shooting. They were really motoring in an unusual south-north trajectory and shot driven style, their momentum carried them the 40 or so yards to the edge of the trees and clear of the wood to land out on the waterlogged drilling. The third bird came in low and flared, startled by the movement of me reloading but I had the presence of mind to get 2 shots off and luck was with the second one. Dog dispatched for collection duty while I caught my breath. After the hectic start had tapered off, the pigeons started playing their favourite game. One would flit past, tantalisingly just out of reach whilst a second and third would slip by in shootable range whilst the hapless shooter was distracted. This set the scene for the majority of the afternoon which saw me restricted to sporadic shots garnering a further four birds for a handful of cartridges. They all seemed to be following the odd South-north path and carried by the strengthening wind were flying high and fast, requiring some significant lead. I had my eye in enough I guess, but more got through than I would have liked. Later on as the sun went down and the sky darkened I was joined by the old man who had a sour expression on his face. A pocketful of empties had resulted in a big fat zero. He blamed his gun, a new (to him) parker hale 804. So I took it off him and promptly shot the next two pigeons I saw, albeit slower ones coming in to perch in the big conifers. "Well, it must be these cartridges then". Hull superfast? Give me a couple I said. Took the next one that came in to land as well. I chucked him a pair of my fiocchis and he let them off just as the last light was being chased from the drizzly sky. Finally, he got on the scores sheet and with that, we headed for home. Total bag 11 between us, for a box of cartridges from me and an undisclosed amount from father. Welcome back old man.

Thanks for all the replies! Roll on Saturday, work is quite stressful at the moment. On the subject of the pigeon/stock dove, I've found the humble woodie is becoming quite diverse in its appearance and size. Perhaps the influence of outbreeding with ferals etc?