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For those of a certain age πŸ™„ or even younger πŸ‘, What was you fondest memories of early childhood that gave you a passion for the Country side


oldypigeonpopper
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When I could barely walk, shooting a colaΒ can with a Belgian 410 single barrel hammer gun, it took 10 mins to build up the courage to shoot. After that first shot, I knew shotguns would be part of my life throughout.Β 

Edited by markm
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Shooting the plastic coating from my Mum's washing line with a knackered Slavia 630.Β  I could reliably hit the line with open sights after a whole six weeks of shooting practice.Β  Can't remember how close I had to be.Β Β 

Β 

Today I banged 9" gongs with a 1940 Mosin at 100 yards, resting my elbow on my knee.Β  Open sights and rough East European rifles are still evidently my thing.

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Born in a Welsh rural town, and had the countryside on my doorstep. My Dad is a keen fisherman, and loved the outdoors. So i fished from an early age, shooting came later, my Mam was not at all keen on guns, although Dad did have a 12bore he was a keener angler than a shot! We had a black Labrador and walked him regularly in the countryside, and Dad shared outdoor knowledge with us. Fishing became and obsession, but shooting came a bit later, winter was rugby time and my brother and played for a local club. However i dislocated my shoulder in 1994, and had to take a few years out of the game. So in early 20's i started shooting properly.

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Lived in the terraced back to back housing of the West end of Newcastle and sometimes in the summer we would be packed off to my grandparents who lived in Consett, a steel town then, but close to fields and forests. My grandad took me out for walks and I would have my tin plate toy shotgun. I remember that the dog caught a rabbit and I was allowed to watch him gut and skin it, I still remember that smell even though I have had 00's pass through my hands since then.Β 

The other was the Handcock museum in Newcastle, all the stuffed animals, but particularly the large Japanese spider crab, the lion and the enormous polar bear. I went there a couple of weeks ago and the crab is still there and as large as I remember, but the lion and the polar bear look different and smaller so I don't think they are the same ones.Β 

Third was a fishing rod and centre pin reel, solid glass rod and mostly a toy, but it piqued my interest.

Not one of my family has any interest in the countryside apart from visiting it, but they didn't have those memories, places and objects.

Edited by henry d
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Brought up in a council house with fields all around the estateΒ and spending the summers down at my grannies out in the countryside, all there was to play in was fields really so it was a foregone conclusion where my interests would lie.Β farmers then seemed happy to see youngsters playing around their land so long as we weren't up to much mischief or getting in the way. Being honest i don't think a certain landownder minded too much when we mooched in and pinched a few bramleys which we would dare each other to eat, was always a scramble to find some suitable dock leaves a few hours later!!

As I got up a bit, during summer holidays from school we used to cycle to the small local Loughs to fish for perch and pike with the rods taped onto the bike and a bag of sandwiches for the day. I can still remember the very first fish I caught, beautiful wee perch.

Wasn't til I was about 13 I fired a shotgun when my old neighbour took me out decoying, eventually when I got my licence and gun I was able to repay his kindness and take him out with me as I was then driving. Before he passed away he gave me all his old hide nets and decoys which I really appreciated, sadly I didn't get the browningΒ too.

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Brought up in inner city Liverpool,didn’t know what grass was, until I joined the cubs and then the scouts,they used to take us to tawd vale (close to Wigan) on the back of a flat bed coal wagon, slept in old canvas tents ⛺️, cooked on a campfire, water from the farmhouse, great memories.

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1 hour ago, scouser said:

Brought up in inner city Liverpool,didn’t know what grass was, until I joined the cubs and then the scouts,they used to take us to tawd vale (close to Wigan) on the back of a flat bed coal wagon, slept in old canvas tents ⛺️, cooked on a campfire, water from the farmhouse, great memories.

Indeed - Born and bred on the Commercial Road in Stepney, the only green was in the various parks and communal gardens - The scouts showed me the countryside and a little about what to do in it - I decided at quite a young age that IΒ much preferred the green bits to the concrete bits

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My childhood was spent in a Yorkshire village. My parents rarely saw me during the day and sometimes at night as my shooting and fishing exploits had no time restraints.

The winter of 1962-63 was when I first started using a shotgun, a bolt action .410. My first air rifle was a BSA Meteor .22. Happy and carefree days.

Then along came education and then girls.Β 

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Brought up in Yorkshire near three very large lakes, so every kid in village went fishing. Back then everyone had air rifles and you just went wherever you fancied with them , shooting rights etc were never even considered.Β 

Also every kid I played with back then was into bird nesting and egg collecting. You went out for hours and only came home when hungry.

It was also the age of steam and the main lines of LMS and LNER were very close, hence many hours watching proper trains.

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Being born in a small Lincolnshire village I could fall out of the house into acre upon acre of arable fields and marshland. My father was a keen shooterΒ whom I accompanied any chance I got. My Maternal grandfather was keen fisherman who would pick me up from the school gates with a change of clothes and some food so we could head off fishing in the local drains often not returning until wellΒ after dark. My Paternal grandfather was also a keen pot hunter who had a folding Spanish 410 that I adopted as my own from about the age of 12. All of this has moulded my life in Β to being consumed by the Countryside and all that resides within it.

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Started off fishing with a rod from Wooly's 5 feetΒ 1 inch,Β the one inch was important, all the other kids had something like 12-13 feet rods, i needed every inch i could get.Β I had a pond directly over the road where i lived, plenty to catch to keep the interestΒ 

Then i had the 1st introduction to shooting when an Uncle (or so my mum told us) left an air rifle for me to play in the garden ( innocent childhood) i was soon knocking over my little plastic soldiers down the bottom of the garden. My 1st introduction to pest control was knobbling a young rabbit chomping on my dads veg. My Pop (grandad) would give me some coaching in shooting, beingΒ in the Sherwood forresters he was a perfect tutor. I soon got into shooting blue bottlesΒ  on the rustic trellis, a few misses but i was not too bad for a little un.Β 

Then came my 1st catapult, a bad idea really as i got caught knocking pheasants out of trees on a local estate. I carried on with my air rifle, having the idea of expanding my shooting from outside my own garden to further a field, it slipped into my rod bag a treat, and strapped to the cross bar of my bike i was off,Β stopping off at my favourite fieldΒ where the rabbit population was plentiful. It was nothing unusual to take home halfΒ a dozen rabbits. I soon got bug that nothing could substitute, it wasnt the killing but the challenge, like fishing be it game or course presenting a dry fly just as it were a real one on top of a waiting wild brown or a niece piece of luncheon meat to a Barbel.Β 

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So what gave me the passion ???

It was more like what options were there,Β 

TV was pants, i had watched all muffin the mule's and the magic roundabouts the little dot was more interesting than most.Β Β 

Β 

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I was born and raised in the city, although (fortunately) my Dad was born and raised in the country. My earliest 'fieldsport' memoryΒ was catching sticklebacks with my brother in the drain near my grandparents house.. My grand dad had a job with the water board and had a tied cottage at a pumping station half a mile outside a village. That was our little bit of paradise, private land with woodland and a bit of park land around the pumping house, spent many happy days on that 20 or so acres of land. A bit older my Dad taking us ratting around a couple of small farms belonging to family friends, which were, they had the old type small pig sheds which always had rats, used to borrow the farmers Jack Russel and have great fun fun although we never did a great deal of damage to the rat population. Starting going beating when I was ten on a little farm shoot where bags would often be only just into double figures (and twenty five years later found myself taking on that shoot myself).Β 

Edited by scolopax
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