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Talk about being in the ****


Pykie
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We had a little rough shoot on satuday, just me, dad, my grandad and a few friends from our main syndicate on a farm near my grandads. The weather was pretty dull and wasnt the ideal conditions for walking the hedges and copses but needs must! We had shot a few pheasants when two of the lads walking a hedge the other side of a big rape field yelled snipe. A lone snipe, wind in its tail, came towards us like a driven pheasant and dad dropped it dead with his 20 bore, a magnificant shot (not that id tell him and let him get big headed!) next we did a small copse and i shot a cock pheasant that tried to escape out the side. I reloaded and heard the tell tell shreak of a jay and it broke cover, darting behind a tree on the hedge. As it offered a safe shot, i dropped it stone dead. Two more pheasants were flushed and shot before we walked up a thick hedge, with an old cottage crumbling way at the end, that was now full of brambles. The other Guns were in a horseshoe at the end of this piece and we shot eight pheasants out of it. With some great retrieves from the Sprockers (i think every Gun has one now on our shoot) we stopped for drinks and cheese and crackers before heading back to the farm for the second part.

 

We shot a feral pigeon and two pheasants from the orchard next, four more escaping by flying the wrong way. Across the road was a small electric station, with some rough ground next to it. Dad and our fried Marcus beat it through, the Guns out in the field. A lovely cockbird came over, was saluted by three Guns without a feather touched, when out the corner of my eye I saw a vixen scramble through the hedge. Being the end Gun and knowing it was safe, i gave her both barrels and she screamed and dropped from sight. Running over and reloading as I went, I jumped onto the fence and caught my foot, going **** over tip straight into a hidden slurry pit :rolleyes: ! Instintively I threw my gun onto dry ground as i disappeared up to my waist in the black stinking pit. I dont know how deep it was as i quickly pulled myself out, to the sound of Barry shouting "Mark? Where are you?" As i emerged like the creature from the Black Lagoon everyone burst out laughing! But at least the fox was dead. With boots full of god knows what, and looking rather sorry for myself. we did the last piece of ground, i shot a nice French partridge and Jack, one of our Spaniels, killed a myxy rabbit in the hedge. With the day over, no matter how sorry i looked, no one was going to have me a lift in their vehicle so i walked the half mile back to my grandparents, ignoring the looks of a young girl feeding her horses as i walked past, bare foot, stinking, carrying my now black wellingtons under my arm. We ended the day with 20 pheasants, a snipe, a jay, a partridge, a fox, a feral pigeon and a rabbit. The lengths i go to to do a bit of fox control!! :P

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And the fox which caused it all!!

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