a quiet moment

[Paul in North Lincs.]

I was just having a sentinmental moment; quietly reflecting back and reminiscing of numerous good times as a young lad, growing up, out and about with my grandad who introduced me shooting, fishing and the great outdoors,..................during my 'moment' I suddenly recalled the incident that sparked my life long passion for shooting.

 

I was about 7, and my grandad and uncle were trying to shift some rats from under a barn, using the old exhaust fumes and hose pipe tactic......I'd never seen a rat before never mind shot one, and as was talking to me grandad a huge rat popped out and was duly shot with the 410.......I nearly **** myself; I can remember it with so much clarity; the smell the of the cartridge, the jubilation.......from that point onwards I was truely hooked, and it has now become an integral part of my life.

 

Unfortunately after 'good innings'the old lad is faiding rapidly due to dehabiliting senile dimensure......which suddenly came on 6 months ago, and has left him in a pityful state................................."thanks alot old mate....I've alot to thank you for"

 

- What did it for you?

 

- can you recall what sparked your interest?

 

Thought it might be interesting to see how all of you developed a passion for the great doors..........Perhaps its just in the blood.

 

Finally;...I think its important to spare a thought for all those amongst us that can't get out any more due to ill health and the like.....,and perhaps respectfully give a unconscious thanks and raise a whisky to those old boys who have moved onto greener pastures, who have helped us become the men we are today. .....................merry chritsmas one and all

[Millomite]

My first memories are out ferreting with my grandad, uncle and his next door neighbour, along with beating with them through the winter.

 

I can remember the van we used to travel in, all the dogs names, the people who went etc. My most memorable day is a days ferreting with me wearing a pair of jeans with Fred Flinstone and Barney Rubble on the front. Must have got well over 30 rabbits with the nets. Still sticks in my mind

 

I owe a lot to my grandad, he's tough me 99% of what I know about the countryside now and it will truly be a sad day when he passes away.

[Cranfield]

Being born on the North Kent marshes (2 miles to the nearest bus stop), shaped my interests in Country Sports.

 

Going pigeon scaring with Old George when I was about 8 years old and having to creep up to the end of the collard field , then scare the pigeons down towards the hedge that Old George was hiding behind.

Carrying his net bag, at about the same age, when we went rabbiting and the best bit, carrying a rabbit or two home for my Mum.

 

I was 10 when he gave me his old single barrel Webley .410 (don't use it no more, boy) and I shot a partridge with it the first time we took it out.

By then I had my own ferrets and within the year, my first 12 bore (very secondhand), which was a gift from a local Farmer, whose land we kept pest free.

 

Wildfowling quickly came next as did my interest in working dogs and hound hunting in general.

I followed the local foxhounds, beagles and otterhounds (that hunted the marshes until the ban in 1978).

At the age of 12 I had 6 ferrets, a Lakeland and a Lurcher, which combined with my Diana Original airgun, the .410 and my 12 bore, made me a pest control machine and the scourge of most edible living creatures.

 

I don't regret one moment.

[Paul in North Lincs.]

..........................fond memories indeed by the sound of things

[henry d]

My Granda was the man who got me all interested in the countryside.First country taster was to wander off with him and a toy pop gun under my arm to see if there were any Tigers "Up the jungle"(a steep wooded bank in darkest Durham).

He was the first person I`d seen clean a rabbit,caught by his dog,I can still remember the smell even though I was only 6 or 7 at the time.

Eventually after I`d been given a BSA Meteor for my birthday he said to me "Go on down the sandy lane and get us a rabbit".I never got it that day and it would have been 25 years before I did get him a rabbit.

 

 

Boy is he sorely missed..............

[PestController]

I remember going down to my uncle's farm when I was just a young teeny.

I'd be about 16 or 17 I guess, I went to help with haymaking and carting.

Always looked forward to it, as my auntie Edna was a champion cook, and she'd do tea afterwards.

My cousin John was slotting crows with an old English hammer gun. He let me have a go. I fired the gun after a little tuition, but never hit anything. I remember the recoil of my first shot though, I was slightly built as a lad and it hurt a little, I had no padding on me then, not like now......

That day the bug bit me....within 2 years I was shooting at every opportunity, clays, pigeons, rabbits, corvids, geese, the lot, and owned several guns of various calibres.

Seems a long time ago now.

My uncle passed away a few years ago, and there's a beautiful housing estate where we would shoot on the farm.....

Fond memories.

 

Merry Christmas Paul...to you and yours.

[darebear]

with me wearing a pair of jeans with Fred Flinstone and Barney Rubble on the front

 

i feel olddddddd. i must have been at least 13 when i was wearing them!

 

 

 

 

 

first memory?

 

my mother making a fuss and ushering me out of the garage everytime my father had some dead pheasants hanging up. i still dont know where he used to keep his guns.

 

 

 

what sparked my interest? (which is more about accuracy that shooting cute and fluffy things )

 

when scaffy and hawkeye set up some empty cartridges in a line for me to shoot with scaffy's rifle.... and i had a go for the first time and got most of them

[LONG STOCK]

i also remember great times with my grandad. he had a small holding with about 15 acres of grass land which had alot rabbits on it, he took me round it nearly every weekend with his shotgun. he also kept chickens and one night mr fox cleared the shed, i remember grandad making a hide out of bales and waiting most of the following night for him to return, he did no more mr fox. childhood memories, it took me till i was 29 to get my own shotty but love every minute when i'm out with it.

[lurcherboy]

The original post got me wondering where I got it from.

 

I can't really say where or when, but I was sent to southern Ireland as soon as I started junior school, as apparently, I was a bit of a 'problem child'

 

I was dropped in at the deep end, no inside toilets, milk came from cows and they killed sheep, heifers and pigs for food No television, Church every Sunday, and the world stopped for the Angelus at 18:00.

 

First kill, I think, was with a catapult doing rats in the slurry pit.

 

After every stay coming back to England after 6 weeks in fresh air was the ******* pits. There wasn't much legal opportunity for hunting in South London but the caty was used with full prejudice in Brockwell and Kennington parks on the tree rats.

 

I moved on to air pistol after a short stay at a approved school for special kids Got out of there and went through normal school, done what I had to do, kept my nose reasonably clean, got out with exam results and was gratefull.

 

I couldn't secure an apprenticship so done a year at Wandsworth tech. college. Still no work after that so I moved to my mums place in Kent and walked straight into a 4 year apprenticeship.

 

Thats when I joined a anti group because I believed the landed gentry on horses were ****s. Only joking I joined because there was allways slabs of lager in the transit and I liked the rush. It was like being at the Den and having a good barney. Done that for a few years and got converted by a very special old boy, RIP mate, learnt about the true countryside and have been on board ever since.

 

Started shooting on my own SGC about 6 or 7 years ago and have never looked back.

 

 

 

 

 

LB

[tiercel]

To be honest I cannot remember the “First Time†It is as though I have always done it, have been ferreting since I was able to walk. I do remember though having to run to get the rabbit my father shot before the spaniel got it and mangled it. Must have been about 8 then.

Every weekend seemed to be filled with doing something. Fishing, Course, Game and Sea. Shooting, Ferreting seems there was always something going on. My Father died when I was 12 but the legacy he left me lived on.

Pity none of my children feel the same. Still there are the grandchildren to come, as it seems in the previous posts that missing a generation is not uncommon. I can only hope.

 

Tiercel

[lurcherboy]

To be honest I cannot remember the “First Time†It is as though I have always done it have been ferreting since I was able to walk. I do remember though having to run to get the rabbit my father shot before the spaniel got it and mangled it. Must have been about 8 then.

Every weekend seemed to be filled with doing something. Fishing, Course, Game and Sea. Shooting, Ferreting seems there was always something going on. My Father died when I was 12 but the legacy he left me lived on.

Pity none of my children feel the same. Still there are the grandchildren to come, as it seems in the previous posts that missing a generation is not uncommon. I can only hope.

 

Tiercel

 

 

And forget to say that getting my first Gudgeon on the Thames near walton truly hooked me.

 

 

My kids aren't interested either

 

 

 

LB

[new to the flock]

Okay....Okay.... if the two of you....lb and TC..... are going to moan about the fact the kids dont want to go out and that you dont have Grandkids ready yet.....I will let the pair of you addopt me and spoil me rotton with guns, ferrets, dogs, nets and all othe manner of country articles while you fly me over once a month for a little bit of shooting, ferreting, or dog work

 

NTTF

[lurcherboy]

Done deal NTTF but you will hover, dust, pick up ***** from the garden, walk curs for 1.5 hours a day minimum, cook, teach two would be hoodies how to tie flies and set snares for those big bunnies Walk and talk the frets for at least 15 minutes a day and sort the old woman out Maybe abusing you there, then come and have a go if your hard enough

 

 

 

LB

[Paul in North Lincs.]

Some great tales........................

 

My kids are only young; my lad 3 , and daughter 16 months.

 

My boy loves to come fishing with me, and mucking about with live stock; pigeons, ferrets, rabbits and dogs

 

Most kids get up and say "I wanna watch CBEEBIES or Spiderman ..............................My lads comes down and says .."put fishing on"................I think he's Rex hunts favourite fan

 

The signs are there so I will harbour these and see if I can raise a shooting buddy for latter year, and not a spotty chav hoody with 2 ASBO's under his belt by 14; who robs cars "coz therz nowt to do geeze..and I just wanna buzz me t*ts off getting chased by the oinks...................sortid innit"

[Mungler]

Thirty years ago, one of my mate's grandparents had a sign in their kitchen which said "if mum and dad say know then ask grandma or grandpa". I think little has changed and there appears to be a common thread that grandparents / older generations have more time and patience and an old fashioned approach to health and safety - if it doesn't kill you it will make you stronger and to "use your loaf". Fond memories.

[Baldrick]

My first recollection was watching my grandfather blatting rabbits on the lawn with his .22LR, out of the kitchen window. Again, the smell and sheer excitement of it had me hooked, much to my parents' distress.

[Dunkield]

My earliest memories were cycling down to the Thames on Saturday mornings 'bleak snatching' 3 or 4 of us would catch hunders of the things and then just stick them straight back in the river, we didn't even bother with a keep net - but it kept us amused for hours on end. We mucked about with catapults, mainly smashing bottles in the gravel pits and later plinking with airguns (my Dad still has my BSA Meteor)

 

We weren't led into it by any elders we just found our own way, which is probably why it took so long to good at anything! Although I was brought up in areas bordering 'countryside' I have never lived in it, and still don't.

 

Shooting wise, I started with clays, but only after we had got the car thing out of our systems, I used to compete in Hill Climbs and Sprints and that took up all of my time/money for a good few years.

 

Everyone else was clay shooting in those days, and it seemed a great craic with that element of competion/**** taking, and then driven pheasants for about 10 years or so, but I got a bit bored of that in the end. After that rifles came into the mix, so shotgun shooting has taken a bit of back seat since then, but I still enjoy it, I just don't do enough of it. When I read some of the posts on here I realise I have only ever dabbled in shooting, and probably every other hobby I have had.

 

I have tried to ease my son into fishing and shooting, but he hasn't shown much interest in either, and I am not going to force him into it. He thoroughly enjoyed the nights we have been out lamping, and he has the eyes of a hawk so is a very handy companion. He has he own gun and can go whenever he wants to, but he has so many other interests he never seems to have, or make, the time. It probably doesn't help that none of his friends shoot or fish, so he would be hanging about with his old man, not something teenagers want to do too much of

[Ferret Master]

I'm only 14 but sufficiently hooked for life. I can remember fishing in my Grans pond when I was 3 for carp with a fishing rod bought from the early learning centre. I was also a champion newt catcher although I probably shouldn't have been as there were some rather important Great Crested Newts in the ponds. I went river rishing for the first time when I was 5 and remember the cows in the meadow, the water voles and and grass snake. Not to mention the fact I was catching perch quicker than Dad could set his tackle up as he was baiting and casting out for me. :o I loved it. I also remember the fox hunt when I was 5 running across my Grans drive in full cry past our chicken pens. Other than going to the hunt meet about once a year with my Grandmother fishing was my only country sport although I still loved dabbling around in ponds. Somehow I became interested in birdwatching and by the age of 10 I could probably identify 95% of British birds. At this point I knew nothing about shooting. Later on when I was 10 Dad bought a Webley Exocet for the squirrels in my Gran's garden which I hated as they were destroying my bird feeders that I would make. I was never pushed into shooting but I always had a plink at a coke can on the fence whenever I was at my Gran's with my Dad. I became more interested in country sports in general when I was in Smith's and I was going to buy a bird watching magazine but they had sold out so I bought a Shooting Times instead. I liked it and bought another one a few lonths later. The following Spring I shot my first squirrel with the Exocet and proudly marched over to show my Dad. By this point I was reading Shooting Times every week and was becoming rather interested in country sports in general. On my 12th Birthday that September I asked for an air rifle. I got a BSA Lightning in .22. 6 months of learning to shoot and fruitless hunting forays in the field behind my Gran's land which I now had permission on followed. Finally I got a squirrel with it and another... and another. I was not taught how to hunt but learned how from my various sporting literature. Later on tht Summer I shot my first rabbit with the gun. It was fried up with onions and eaten for tea a couple of days later. On my next birthday I got an Air Arms S410k and the following day aftern getting it shot a squirrel. I accounted for many squirrels and rabbits plus the odd magpie and rat with it in the year after I had it. This year was also bad from our birds point of view as over 20 were killed by a fox. However much to my delight Dad decided to apply for his SGC and later on that Summer shot the problem fox with it. My birthday that year I got a 'special present'. My 20 bore. In the past 3 months it had accounted for plenty of tree rats and clays.

 

The story of my life... It also seems if it weren't for my interest in bird watching and the amount of shooting I did and still do at my Gran's house and large garden I wouldn't be the fieldsport obsessed person that I am today!

 

FM :(

[new to the flock]

I have thought a long time on this one. There were four people that were very instrumental in my way of life. First of was a gentleman by the name of Frank Horner. Us kids called him Uncle Frank and it was not until I was into my 30's that it became clear that he was not a relative.

 

Uncle Frank started out as a boarder at my Nans farm. This was after the Kids, all 13 of them, were grown, married and moved out and my Grandfather ..... whom I apparently met once........ was gone. He had a work shop in the old barn that he always use to let us into to watch him build one thing or another in but the best part was he let us stoke the fire in the old wood stove and it was are job to keep it warm and not smoking. Uncle Frank always had a pile of hunting and fishing magazines around and we would sit and look at them for ages in that shop....me sitting on his knee in the old recliner and him smoking Export A non filter and Players non filter cigerettes one after another.

 

Every Christmas there was a present from him and I could never wait to open it as it was always fishing tackle of some sort, or maybe a hunting knife or a new rod. In the summers once a year my Father would take us up to the faimly cottage on Nine Mile Lake. This was my Nans place and Uncle Frank would always be there. He would run my brother and I all over that lake catching bass and perch until we had to come in for meals or bed. Mind you we did spend alot of time swimming at the docks with the rest of the faimly too

 

Uncle Frank lived to be 84 I believe it was. He passed away shortly after I graduated college. But not before I was able to load him and his wheel chair.....he lost a leg to poor circulation 4 years earlier....into my truck a couple of times and get him out on the water to catch a few more. He has been gone for 21 years now and I still miss him. Quiet often I open his old tackle box and handle the lures in there thinking about our time together. He lives on in my memory and I would never be surprised to see him sitting beside me in the boat on one of my trips out, or coming along a deer trail during season.

 

 

The second person I have to thank would be my Nan....my Fathers Mother. Nan was a tough old bird, after raising 13 kids, and running a market farm for years I can now see why. She was also one of the most loving people I have ever known. Every year she would have us over for sleep overs and up to the cottage to run wild. But you never wanted to cross her......I can still remember her getting mad at my Father one day and laying him out cold with a cast iron frying pan , but I can also close my eyes and see her teaching me how to play cribbage under an oil lantern beside the big wood stove in the cottage, or cleaning a mess of fish for dinner with more skill than most today . She was another that believed in teaching us by letting us do. In the morning you got up and you lit the woodstove with a piece of birch bark and watched the flame lick at the slivers of wood until a flame caught and curtailed itself around the kindling and then you fed it higher. But God help you if you had to use two matches to get it going

 

Nan use to teach us when to pick the wild blueberries and how not to get between a cub and sow black bear. How to check for rattlesnakes before going into the out house, the proper way to stack fire wood so that it stayed dry and did not fall over and......... just how to sit and watch a a storm roll in over athe Lake or a sunset fad into darkness.

 

This is another person I remember often as that frying pan that she knocked Dad out with is the very one my parents still cook with today....or at least I like to think it is and every time I cook something up over at the farm I can't help but smile with that pan in my hand.

 

The next two people that shaped my love for the outdoors are my Parents. We moved from a little house in town when I was 4 back onto a farm. My father could not stay away from it and I know what it is like. Well I had been riding ponys and horses since the day I came home from the hospital and was out on my own by 6 so the 60 acres that made up the farm were my paradise....still are today :( I rode everywhere, by the time I was twelve they would find me and my horse 30 miles from home :o and not plannng on making it home for a day or two yet

 

If my back side was not covered in horse hair I was out at the creek with a fishing pole in hand catching catfish, or down wadding in the river trying for pike, salmon, trout, bass or pickeral. By the time I was 8 I had my first good bow in my hands and was out chasing rabbits and ground hogs :( 11 found me shooting my Fathers 20 guage, and .22 doing the same only I had added grouse and ducks to the list.

 

Through it all my parents encouraged me to follow my ideas and dreams and to do well at all that I did and even though they may not have agreed with all of my decisions they always supported me. They praised me when I did well, and punished when I did wrong.....wore the flat of a shovel where there should have been a horse once or twice but I have always known that I was loved.

 

NTTF

[kip270]

For me my first memories are watching my dad cleaning out some rabbits in the back garden, i was about 5 or 6. (We used to have family camping holidays in Cornwall, and i mean family holidays, aunties,uncles cousins, must of been at least 15 of us We would go winkling, mussell and cockle collecting, not to mention the mackerel fishing, then my dad got into scuba diving and was collecting spider crabs and other weird things. The smells would linger for days ) So we were hunter gatherers from as far back as i can remember.

As for field sports my uncle was a big shooting man, wildfowling his real passion, and other shotgun pursuits.

Then in 1979-1980 for Xmas i had my first air-rifle a BSA super meteor in .22 and open sights, my dad had a HW35e scoped :o So the day after boxing day we were out hunting (had a bit of a shooting session to make sure i could shoot straight ) It was a misty day, and we managed to shoot a woody each, i was hooked

I was hooked on air-rifle hunting from then, my dad also got into Deer stalking and we would go to the range and i got to shoot all manner of rifles,machine guns,nitro's, and countless pistols (oh the good old days)

Then i went to my first Game fair (another whole family event ) and saw a boy with a kestrel and that was something i wanted to do. So my love affair with Hawks and Falcons started and also has been with me for a long time, started off with a kestrel which i had for 4yrs(then i strayed, GIRLS ).

Still had my meteor and would go shooting at the crack of dawn, get back shower and off to school,

they were the best days also had sharp enova. Then in 1985 i bought a HW80, still got it now, i became obsessed about hunting with it, every bit of time i had i was out with it, no matter what the weather.

Then in 1989, i got a common Buzzard and was flying hawks again, had her till 1992 (gave her to mate for breeding)

Then in 1996 i got a male Harris hawk, a spaniel and numerous ferrets, and was obsessed with that, still done a bit of air-rifle shooting, and the odd day shotgunning with my brother in-law.

When my harris passed away, i didn't do anything for a few months, then got into shotgunning, got my own shotguns, then progressed to my rifles and have been obsessed since

Been lucky enough to help out on a deer park back in wales, helped my brother in-law with vermin control on the pheasent shoot.

 

So for me i think it is in the blood, and wouldn't change it for anything.

(sorry i went on a bit)