Scattered Shots

First published in Irish Country Sports & Country Life Magazine

Shooting has been there on my shoulder (no pun intended) since I was a child. My earliest memory which I may have written of before was of my father, every young boy (and grown mans if they were honest) hero, coming in the back door on a black, windy and wet evening with two hares over his shoulder and carrying a broken shot gun. Hares aren’t shot now but they were then because there was in our area literally no end to them. So much so that they used to run absolute riot on the local football pitch in summer and they were like cats around our house they were so plentiful. I remember admiring the shot Hares hanging in the shed, looking into their glass like staring eye, running my small hands through their fur and looking at every individual shade of brown, russet and almost cream in their coat and seeing spent shotgun cartridges in the big old wooden barrel bin. Even then I understood that even though an animals life had been taken, it wasn’t for nothing as every scrap would go to use, and there were at that time so many of them around. I remember thinking how amazing it was that my dad had went out there in the windy darkness and rain and shot them both with his gun. A few days later he beckoned me into the kitchen and undid a large parcel of foil from the oven and with a knife and fork cut some slices from the dark brown lump of cooked meat within, and as I write this now I can still taste it, dark strong and very nice. It’s not to everyone’s taste and it’s not often other than a fresh road kill or being abroad where it is served more common in restaurants that I eat it but every time I do I remember the first. My father ate everything he shot or more shot anything he could eat, and if it wasn’t edible it wasn’t shot, it was as simple as that. When we were young shooting a rook, jackdaw, magpie or even a fox wasn’t really heard of because it couldn’t be eaten, nor was shooting huge quantities of things, any shooting men I knew as a child took a couple of whatever it was and that was plenty, that’s just the way it was.

Shooting means many things to many different people, in its many guises it can take you anywhere, perhaps a warm golden stubble field in search of Pigeons, a wet, dark and depressive estuary for wildfowl or high on a hill for the Grouse or Stag or perhaps even an African plain. And not forgetting the “Battue” where there is much opportunity for a keen or well-heeled gun.

Nowadays if someone were to ask me do I shoot I would answer “A bit” but the more I think of it I actually carry a gun quite a lot. In the course of my daily work as a rabbit controller I generally don’t shoot much but probably only 25% of the work we do now involves shooting of some description and it is usually night shooting with air guns which works very well on some of our contracts, it is usually taken care of by David Rogers, who is an outstanding shot, certainly the best I have ever seen and although I usually drive badly and operate the lamp I do take the occasional shot and there are times when I have surprised myself and knocked over a rabbit or two when I thought I wouldn’t! On a recent job I had to pull every trick out of the bag and after two weeks of traps, snares, drop nets and night shooting, one area remained which was an almost vertical bank, littered with rabbit holes and no easy way to set purse or long nets. I decided to enter the ferrets, stand well back and shoot the rabbits as they exited the warren. It worked well and with the help of my Teckel “Rubble” we accounted for every one shot. But aside from the many well known shooting sports there are many I have taken part in which are as much if not more fun as the better known ones! Rat shooting both at night and more so with ferrets is incredibly fast and great sport as is Mink Hunting with a terrier or Teckel although it is more often I have returned empty handed than not as a bolting Mink is not easily folded! Pheasants are a favourite for me, and probably because the eating is as good as the shooting and for some years when time allowed, I was a member of a small syndicate near home which I thoroughly enjoyed. If one was to draw out an ideal area for a small shoot that would be it. The birds always held well and were in great condition down to Paddy who had as keen an interest in the rearing and releasing as he did the shooting. The shoot for me was special and more so as I had the opportunity to shoot and work the lurchers hand in hand. My bitch Fudge grew up on the shoot and retrieved birds so very well she really became part of the team. Early October is beautiful in the correct weather and the shoot is full of hardwood trees as well as interesting plants and birds and runs along a windy and lovely river. You can smell Autumn as we walk along the lane, springer spaniels (and Lurchers) alongside and guns broken over arms. A passing car will usually give a wave and often one or two neighbours near the shoot would stop looking for a pheasant! Depending on the route we take we are sometimes into an old wood and as we walk along I breathe long and deep taking up the smell of the damp wood which is nothing short of fantastic. A spaniel passes, nose down and tail wagging and I brush a giant rhubarb as I leave the wood and the water runs down my neck making me shiver. “Bird up” someone hollers and a shot rings out. I look up in time to see a beautiful cock pheasant arch over the trees with three beats of his wings, another three beats and a pause and he goes out of sight. It is not often we got a blank day but it does happen occassionally, but it doesn’t ever matter. Snipe shooting in the mountains and Bogs is among my favourite and I usually employ my .410 which is easier carried for a full day makes it little more difficult, and the empty pocket usually far outweighs the full side When I am taking cartridges from my jacket in the evening.

My interest in rifles has always been the larger calibres and the hunting that comes with them. As we go up the calibres we go up in quarry and for me a double rifle of .470 Nitro Express on a Cape Buffalo hunt in Adrica would be the pinnacle. For many years as a teenager and up until present day I read the fantastic works of John “Pondoro” Taylor, Ivory Hunter, big game hunter and Irish Man. Taylor is sadly very unknown and it is a shame in many ways as not only was he a genuine hunter, great shot and very much a character but he was also a great writer, a man who could put you in the seat beside him while he eyed up and shot a large crocodile, a raging bull elephant or a crazed Lion before dinner!

Unfortunately we have no Cape Buffalo here but we have plenty of Deer and I have had many very pleasurable successful and some unsuccessful days stalking. A few seasons back I met up with Ronan, a good friend and Deer Stalker as well as Lurcher enthusiast from the south of the country. I left home one morning just after 3.00am and while the BBC world service droned on the radio and I ate my way through a box of sandwiches for “Lunchtime” I arrived at my destination in the dark a little after 6.00am and was greeted by my guide and his Bavarian Mountain Hound “Mo Chara” before heading off into the breaking dawn in search of a Deer. I remember checking my watch which read 7.10 and thinking “not long now”. But little did I know that it would be another 14 miles and 8 hours before I would squeeze the rifle trigger and the day would be over. Ronan and I walked and walked and walked a little more, with Mo Chara heading us all the way and dipping off here and there in search of a scent we were not having any luck at all until we lost the dog well after lunchtime and decided to call it a day. I unloaded the rifle and both Ronan and myself talked a little louder and more jolly with being quiet no longer required. Ronan cupped his hands on his cheeks and bellowed the dogs name several times in a row. I really had a great day, Ronan was a fountain of knowledge and he worked his dog as it would have been in its homeland, not how many owners here assume how they should be worked. I had given up, no deer and no dog. The rifle was still on my shoulder and as we stood in the wood and talked, a hare lolloped past, stopped for a look and kept on going. Ronan shouted on the dog several more times before offering to return me to our rendezvous spot before returning to look for the dog alone. I told him I would stay and as he begin to tell me a story he went quiet. “There is a Deer behind you, don’t move and load the rifle”. I did as I was asked. “Turn around slowly and take a shot from your shoulder, there is no time for sticks”. The .308 rang out and the Fallow fell. Ronan and I approached it and I won’t lie, I felt a certain amount of sadness on the animals death but I knew it wasn’t in vain and every scrap would go to good use. We took a moment, give the deer its last meal and Ronan shook my hand and Mo Chara appeared at our side. It was a special moment, Ronan and his dog worked very hard and the animal was killed clean and outright with absolutely no suffering and I genuinely used every scrap including the pelt.

Richard Jeffries, in his genuine classic “The Amateur Poacher” wrote in a way that many of us will relate to in that going for a walk was simply going for a walk and for the countryman held no great interest. However, should that same walker have a shotgun over his arm that same walk takes on a different tone. Now while he may not shoot anything, or in fact he may not even fire a shot but that walk is improved ten fold by the simple act of having the gun present, the actual shooting is irrelevant in many ways. I don’t think many of you will disagree that you have had many a walk with your gun which although you returned home with an empty game bag you had a thoroughly satisfying and enjoyable walk, a dog usually makes this even better. Had I not taken home a Deer that day it would have stuck in my mind every bit more as I enjoyed every moment of it and Ronan and Mo Chara made it all the better.

Shot Guns have always held my interest and I have always found something special about .410’s, 20 bores, 12 bores, 16 bores, Goose Guns and Muzzle Loaders, I like them all. I like the simplicity and straight forward no nonsense German Models and the fine detail, engraving and scrolling on Best English Guns. I have a certain liking for side by sides and especially Damascus and just recently my neighbour Jonny arrived in my garden one evening with such a gun under his arm. A side by side Damascus 30” barrel sidelock, and although in need of a little TLC it was a lovely gun. He aged it about 60 years old and I thought it was a little more, after an email and some photos of the proof marks to Christopher Symonds, it was dated around 120 years old! My neighbour had intended to scrap the old gun but after speaking with Christopher it was saved and is now on the shelf for a full restoration this winter and I do very much look forward to taking it to the estuary, a rabbit warren or a snipe bog before the season ends and making a few Scattered Shots. Have a good season.