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Fowling stories old and new


strangford  wildfowler
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Thought this might be an interesting thread, would be great to hear the stories from the past and present stories of the wild goose chase, great flights of duck and the best moments from the marsh that you have experienced and also the funny moments as well.

 

 

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In the days before mobile phones I was shooting geese with my brother in law on The Solway marsh.

We decided to split up about 200 yards apart in two deep ditches, he was doing very well and dropped two in some very windy conditions.

I was new to the game and wondered how he managed to get the right place every time we went out, then he gave me the wave to come and join him...great.

I struggled from the ditch and creeped towards his position..."what do you wan't?" he said, I said "you just called me over"....."I was telling you too keep your head down you idiot no wonder you never shoot anything". Lesson one: Geese have eyes.

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In the days before mobile phones I was shooting geese with my brother in law on The Solway marsh.

We decided to split up about 200 yards apart in two deep ditches, he was doing very well and dropped two in some very windy conditions.

I was new to the game and wondered how he managed to get the right place every time we went out, then he gave me the wave to come and join him...great.

I struggled from the ditch and creeped towards his position..."what do you wan't?" he said, I said "you just called me over"....."I was telling you too keep your head down you idiot no wonder you never shoot anything". Lesson one: Geese have eyes.

 

Nice little write up this is what I mean just small personal fowling tales that we could have a we read at.

Here's one from my grandfather's diary

 

The noise was continuous a mad rushing of duck. The dog was retrieving the heavy guns, light guns fired, an odd curse at a missed bird came across me and then a singer teal and finally a very high shot at a mallard which fell with a long waited thud on the still water, that morning we shot

23 mallard

2 teal

I shot six mallard and one teal. J.R. shot five mallard one teal, John shot three mallard and J.Quinn nine dunlock and three mallard, lost two swimmer mallard dog caught one

 

T.Neill 9th Dec 1941

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Stranford, what is a dunlock?

 

Dunlin perhaps?

 

I know in Essex and along the Anglian coast Pochard were called Dunbirds.

 

 

Nice little write up this is what I mean just small personal fowling tales that we could have a we read at.

Here's one from my grandfather's diary

 

The noise was continuous a mad rushing of duck. The dog was retrieving the heavy guns, light guns fired, an odd curse at a missed bird came across me and then a singer teal and finally a very high shot at a mallard which fell with a long waited thud on the still water, that morning we shot

23 mallard

2 teal

I shot six mallard and one teal. J.R. shot five mallard one teal, John shot three mallard and J.Quinn nine dunlock and three mallard, lost two swimmer mallard dog caught one

 

T.Neill 9th Dec 1941

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Anything by BB rates highly, Kenzie by Colin Willock or John Humphreys "days and nights on Hunters Fen". Peter Scott " the best illustrated book of all time is IMO "dawn flight" . We seriously lack such people these days with the Internet with their short, premature release of talent and the Magazines and weeklies being so full of product bias rubbish.

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Wildfowling spurred more literature and art than any other field sport, with the possible exception of fox hunting.

 

Regarding illustrated fowling literature, Jonathon Young's compilation 'A Pattern of Wings' is pretty good, with prints by Novorol, Phipps, Yuell, Campbell - Black, et al. Lots of evocative stories.

 

Tideline Books have a copy for £17.25.

 

http://www.tidelinebooks.co.uk/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=73&products_id=290

 

 

Anything by BB rates highly, Kenzie by Colin Willock or John Humphreys "days and nights on Hunters Fen". Peter Scott " the best illustrated book of all time is IMO "dawn flight" . We seriously lack such people these days with the Internet with their short, premature release of talent and the Magazines and weeklies being so full of product bias rubbish.

Edited by Penelope
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A few years ago, on a large local salt marsh, i was waiting for teal to flight up a well used gutter, with a chap who showed me the ropes when it came to fowling. A spring of teal, 9 birds in all came whizzing round the corner of the gutter, i saw my mentor lift his gun, so waited for the shot to have a do at what birds lifted. No word of a lie, he dropped all 9 with one shot! 3 needed necking. he couldnt help but laugh as i set there, gun mounted, unable to believe what i had just seen!

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Anything by BB rates highly, Kenzie by Colin Willock or John Humphreys "days and nights on Hunters Fen". Peter Scott " the best illustrated book of all time is IMO "dawn flight" . We seriously lack such people these days with the Internet with their short, premature release of talent and the Magazines and weeklies being so full of product bias rubbish.

Yep. The Sgt's Mess at RAF Newton near Nottingham had paintings by Peter Scott lining many of the public rooms' and corridor walls. Whereas I agree wholeheartedly with your last sentence, the problem is that they publish what they know we want to read. The days when, say, the Shooting Times, was a text book in weekly installments has long gone and gone forever.

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Back in the days when it was printed on the rough paper and all the pictures were black and white.

 

Yep. The Sgt's Mess at RAF Newton near Nottingham had paintings by Peter Scott lining many of the public rooms' and corridor walls. Whereas I agree wholeheartedly with your last sentence, the problem is that they publish what they know we want to read. The days when, say, the Shooting Times, was a text book in weekly installments has long gone and gone forever.

Edited by Penelope
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Yep. The Sgt's Mess at RAF Newton near Nottingham had paintings by Peter Scott lining many of the public rooms' and corridor walls. Whereas I agree wholeheartedly with your last sentence, the problem is that they publish what they know we want to read. The days when, say, the Shooting Times, was a text book in weekly installments has long gone and gone forever.

 

Who the magazines? they publish what the advertisers want it is them that pay the rent! What was a Navy guy giving the RAF stuff for anyhow, they must have stolen them :lol: The readership I can only imagine a pile of boring, inexperienced consumers lacking in all imaginative thought :rolleyes:

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What was a Navy guy giving the RAF stuff for anyhow, they must have stolen them :lol:

Just about 4 years wartime service in the RN. I don't know, but I would imagine somehow the paintings were linked to his hobby of gliding. It would be good to find out and also find out what happened to them now that the station is closed.

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A few years ago, on a large local salt marsh, i was waiting for teal to flight up a well used gutter, with a chap who showed me the ropes when it came to fowling. A spring of teal, 9 birds in all came whizzing round the corner of the gutter, i saw my mentor lift his gun, so waited for the shot to have a do at what birds lifted. No word of a lie, he dropped all 9 with one shot! 3 needed necking. he couldnt help but laugh as i set there, gun mounted, unable to believe what i had just seen!

 

Love that that's like a shot my grandad recorded in his diary a mallard shot at 110yards with an 8bore loaded with 60gram lead number 3 shot

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I remember many years ago taking out a new member I also worked with. This was early season and nice weather. We did the morning flight without any problems and instead of going to the local café (which has now become the norm) we headed back to my house for the cooked breakfast prepared by the wife. I had been asked by the club chairman if I was willing to take out another member for the evening flight (he is now an official of another club) so that made the three of us.

After breakfast my new member decided he would not go home but stay around town and get some provisions to make sandwiches ready for the evening flight. He went to the local bakers and bought a 'real bread' unsliced loaf and then visited the traditional butchers and bought some of the stuffed chine ham type meat. Once back at my humble abode he proceeded to slice the bread what seemed 6" thick and pack 1/2lb of his favourite meat between the slices. Anyway he was ready for the afternoons flight.

We met the other guy and started the walk along the sea wall. For those who know Sheps we headed to Winkle Run. Those who don't know it Winkle Run is a pretty big creek that comes right to the sea wall and gets quite big once out to the mud. I used to take a short cut and save a few hundred yards walk where the creek virtually meets the sea wall. I was used to doing this and had done it many times, the creek bottom was reasonably solid but the decent and ascent was sticky and it was possible to get stuck if you didn't power your way through the mud. My springer was first to cross, that was easy. I was next and was across the other side and explaining how to get across...don't follow my steps and don't stop or you could sink! Ok it was my friends turn....you can guess altready...yep, he stopped in the thick stuff. He was wearing thigh waders and got pretty stuck. His game back come to the rescue, he sat on it and eased himself free from his waders, my spaniel helped by running by him every 3 seconds splashing him with marsh mud. We finally got his boots out and he decided (and the other guy did too) to take the longer walk.

Once they arrived it was time to sort the gear out and remove the mud that was plastered to every bit of his gear and clothes. The real funny bit was his once 6" sandwiches. When he sat on his game bag he had forgot to remove them...I could not stop laughing as he produced these wafer thin Stuffed Chine sandwiches he had been looking forward too all day. The small bank we sat on for a while looked like a washing line trying to dry out his gear. He had pulled up tufts of marsh grasses to clean off the mud as best as possible. The few seasons he was a member he never crossed a creek again.

 

If you could ask my lovely springer in doggy heaven what was her best moment in her 12 years out on the marsh she would tell you this story and how she had great pleasure splashing up this guy who bottled it crossing winkle run.

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I remember many years ago taking out a new member I also worked with. This was early season and nice weather. We did the morning flight without any problems and instead of going to the local café (which has now become the norm) we headed back to my house for the cooked breakfast prepared by the wife. I had been asked by the club chairman if I was willing to take out another member for the evening flight (he is now an official of another club) so that made the three of us.

After breakfast my new member decided he would not go home but stay around town and get some provisions to make sandwiches ready for the evening flight. He went to the local bakers and bought a 'real bread' unsliced loaf and then visited the traditional butchers and bought some of the stuffed chine ham type meat. Once back at my humble abode he proceeded to slice the bread what seemed 6" thick and pack 1/2lb of his favourite meat between the slices. Anyway he was ready for the afternoons flight.

We met the other guy and started the walk along the sea wall. For those who know Sheps we headed to Winkle Run. Those who don't know it Winkle Run is a pretty big creek that comes right to the sea wall and gets quite big once out to the mud. I used to take a short cut and save a few hundred yards walk where the creek virtually meets the sea wall. I was used to doing this and had done it many times, the creek bottom was reasonably solid but the decent and ascent was sticky and it was possible to get stuck if you didn't power your way through the mud. My springer was first to cross, that was easy. I was next and was across the other side and explaining how to get across...don't follow my steps and don't stop or you could sink! Ok it was my friends turn....you can guess altready...yep, he stopped in the thick stuff. He was wearing thigh waders and got pretty stuck. His game back come to the rescue, he sat on it and eased himself free from his waders, my spaniel helped by running by him every 3 seconds splashing him with marsh mud. We finally got his boots out and he decided (and the other guy did too) to take the longer walk.

Once they arrived it was time to sort the gear out and remove the mud that was plastered to every bit of his gear and clothes. The real funny bit was his once 6" sandwiches. When he sat on his game bag he had forgot to remove them...I could not stop laughing as he produced these wafer thin Stuffed Chine sandwiches he had been looking forward too all day. The small bank we sat on for a while looked like a washing line trying to dry out his gear. He had pulled up tufts of marsh grasses to clean off the mud as best as possible. The few seasons he was a member he never crossed a creek again.

 

If you could ask my lovely springer in doggy heaven what was her best moment in her 12 years out on the marsh she would tell you this story and how she had great pleasure splashing up this guy who bottled it crossing winkle run.

 

Nice write a ayano 3 funny story, but I'm sure it happened to all of, my brother had a lucky escape from the mud with a quick rising tide luckily his dad pulled him up and out of the stuff

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a few seasons back a very mild winter wildfowl was very thin on the ground and a real struggle. I decided to have a look on a marsh I rarely shoot for an evening flight. saw no ducks but did see about 20 greylag flight back on further up from where I was. I rung a mate and told him to meet me in the morning to have a crack at em. next morning came and we was both sat at the bottom of the seawall where I guessed they roughly flighted through the previous evening. as we waited to see what might happen my friend complained about the need for a call of nature the awkward one! a few more minutes passed he could hold on no more and he was gone over the other other side of the seawall to ease his pain. about 30 seconds passed and in the distance I could just make out the greylag jumping they were a way off and and not going to pass me in range of shot so I shouted to my mate the geese are coming grabbed my gun and with dog ran like the clappers further up the seawall and cut out onto marsh and got into some cover. they hadn't seen me and passed to my right about 35 40yds away lovely. I let the auto sing and the geese literally shrugged off what I gave them. as I stood scratching my head I happened to see one of the empty cases on the floor id only gone and put some steel clay cartridges in my pocket by accident somewhere along the lines! so our first decent chance in a while and my mate was there waders round ankles and im tickling em with 9 shot! disaster still laugh about it now

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a few seasons back a very mild winter wildfowl was very thin on the ground and a real struggle. I decided to have a look on a marsh I rarely shoot for an evening flight. saw no ducks but did see about 20 greylag flight back on further up from where I was. I rung a mate and told him to meet me in the morning to have a crack at em. next morning came and we was both sat at the bottom of the seawall where I guessed they roughly flighted through the previous evening. as we waited to see what might happen my friend complained about the need for a call of nature the awkward one! a few more minutes passed he could hold on no more and he was gone over the other other side of the seawall to ease his pain. about 30 seconds passed and in the distance I could just make out the greylag jumping they were a way off and and not going to pass me in range of shot so I shouted to my mate the geese are coming grabbed my gun and with dog ran like the clappers further up the seawall and cut out onto marsh and got into some cover. they hadn't seen me and passed to my right about 35 40yds away lovely. I let the auto sing and the geese literally shrugged off what I gave them. as I stood scratching my head I happened to see one of the empty cases on the floor id only gone and put some steel clay cartridges in my pocket by accident somewhere along the lines! so our first decent chance in a while and my mate was there waders round ankles and im tickling em with 9 shot! disaster still laugh about it now

 

 

Something I would do

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Wildfowling spurred more literature and art than any other field sport, with the possible exception of fox hunting.

 

Regarding illustrated fowling literature, Jonathon Young's compilation 'A Pattern of Wings' is pretty good, with prints by Novorol, Phipps, Yuell, Campbell - Black, et al. Lots of evocative stories.

 

Tideline Books have a copy for £17.25.

 

http://www.tidelinebooks.co.uk/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=73&products_id=290

 

 

I have over 200 wildfowling books ,i,ve got 2 spare copies of Kenzie the wild goose man and 2 copies of, And clouds flying ,by Ian pitman,free to anyone who wants to collect them also modern wildfowling ,by Eric Begbie and grey geese call,by bill powell, shooting wildfowl and game noel sedgewick .....free!

Edited by gedney
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