Memories are sweeter than dreams….

As the seasons move they dictate a lot of things, small things but relevant none the less. I keep my ferret run in the yard side of the house in winter, for not only is it easier to clean on a dark night but I can keep a closer eye on it and there is less chance of them straying too far should a rough night do any damage to it that should let them escape. In summer they go to the far side of the house onto the grass, the sun doesn’t be on them all day, its cooler and their summer “aroma” isn’t hanging in the air close to the house. This summer I have acquired three lovely young ferrets after loosing some of my old ones to just that, old age. I have very much enjoyed having the young’uns around the place, they look well, eat well and are extremely friendly with both myself and the dogs so we are off to a good start.

In Spring and into summer dog exercising changes from dark evening road walking to early morning runs behind the bike and long evenings along the river bank, chasing ducks and fetching sticks. My shed too changes from season to season. In summer I pull out my fishing rods and pigeon decoys out and tuck the duck decoys, long nets and shooting waders in their place. Just a few weeks back I hauled out one of several Larsen traps and got it placed for the summer months, in the hope that I may have a hand in holding down a booming Magpie population. Only a couple of weeks ago for the first time in my life I counted 11 Magpies together, so many that the rhyme doesn’t even go that far and stops at ten. Seasons also dictate my own habits. A winter Saturday is always taken up regardless, where as a summer one can be a lazy day if that is what you want it to be. As summer died away last year and Autumn came around, my mind turned to Ducks as it always does. I was up to my waist in water, my shot gun, Wellingtons & trousers on the bank. My feet sank deep into the mud as I walked and I thought only I could be doing this, only I could be in the river in my boxer shorts chasing ducks. Ahead of me lay two Mallard drakes floating on the water in the inky darkness, wet or not wet I was taking them home, not a chance would I let them go to waste! I edged forward carefully and scooped up the first and then the second, before following my steps back the way I had come and hauling myself onto the bank. I had only ten minutes earlier came down here for a quick look after walking the dogs further down and happened to have my gun with me. As I got over the wire I stirred some ducks on the waters edge and sat tight in against the hedge hoping they might come back round. Unusually for me they did, and even more unusual I managed two for two shots that landed right in the middle of the river with a slap. That’s how I ended up into my waist after them with no boots or trousers, and that’s why my good wife shook her head in dismay as I climbed out of my truck back home wearing Wellingtons but no trousers, with two ducks, a rabbit and my Lurchers tagging behind! The rabbit they had caught earlier as we walked, that too is an unusual occurrence on that particular area, so all in it was a lively old Tuesday evening in September. I continued duck shooting right through the month and had some great sport and some of my most memorable shots. One evening as I approached a fence leading to a spot that had been very lively over the previous few weeks, a brace of mallard went straight up in front of me. I don’t know who was surprised more, and I didn’t even have a cartridge in the gun. As quick as my hands would let me, I pulled two cartridges from my pocket, slotted them in the barrels and steadied at the bird which was now almost directly above my head, although it was very high. I squeezed the trigger, there was a pause and the bird spun to the ground with a thump. A lovely Mallard Drake, in perfect condition with that iridescent green neck that felt as thick as my wrist. I got tucked in where I had been on my way to when the Ducks got up, but after fifteen or twenty minutes decided my fine Drake was plenty and made for home. As September left it took with it the Mallard that were so plentiful, but in return October brought with it a seemingly endless supply of Teal. My first Teal was among a group of ten or twelve that sprung from a drainage ditch in early October as I walked. It was a sunny evening and as I approached the ditch I assumed it was empty as the birds are usually up and away. I kept on along the left side and as I began to think about turning the group sprung and banked left. I missed with my first barrel and dropped a bird with second. My last Teal was on a very wet and dark saturday evening on the far side of the ditch. Myself and my friend John had just shot a brace of Mallard a piece and were returning home via the ditch when three Teal sprung and went right, I took a snap shot and it came off lucky. In between these first and last ducks I had a few others. I spent many evenings on the stubbles of home and getting the odd grain fed mallard. I also spent a lot of time in my hide decoying, sometimes successfully and a lot of the time not. And then the Widgeon arrived. For us this means frost, sleet and long cold days searching, waiting and trying. This year above all there have been massive amounts of Widgeon, but I have shot less than half a dozen. However it worked out I just didn’t seem to get on to them, instead having more success with Mallard and especially Teal. The Teal above all is my favourite bird, both as a sporting quarry and as a bird for the pot. I find them superior to any other ducks. On times I surprise them from a drain or bend on the river it never ceases to amaze me how they can seemingly lift vertically from anywhere. The smallest drain or the hardest wind is never too much and those two quick successive vertical lifts usually followed by a sharp turn can twist up any shooter and leave him wondering what just happened! Sometime in early November as I sat waiting for a shot along the river, a pair of Teal were coming to my left at a great speed. I got ready, and as they levelled I fired twice and thinking I would fold the pair. As I did so they immediately dropped in height and flipped sideways and avoiding my spread entirely, what fantastic little birds they are, I could only bid them good luck.

One highlight of the season was several days in Galway with the Sunnyland Beagles. In contrast to most years when I usually find myself travelling down at all hours of the day and night. I had a few days off work and made it down on Friday afternoon where I spent a few hours in the city of the Tribes and fed my field sports literature addiction in both Kenny’s and Charlie Byrnes book shops, before heading back to Tuam for what was a very enjoyable weekend of sport. Saturday morning was nippy but sunny and John Shaw Brown, Liz, David, Lee, Naomi and I took the hounds out a little after day break to settle them for the day. As the mist hung in the air and among the grass the sun came up & the Hounds ran among the hollows and heights, among the blackthorns, brambles and Whins and gave tongue at the rabbits darting between them, leaving little trails of broken Dew across the grass below. Lee and I stood leaning on a stick each, saying nothing to each other but saying everything at the same time. There was something special about that morning and we knew it, something I could never place my finger on, something you could never find again if you tried. I didn’t get a picture, but I doubt it would have done it any justice, and it matters little because it will be forever engraved on my mind. By lunchtime we had been hunting a large bog for a few hours and although perhaps a little warm for good scenting the sport was very good. We saw some great runs and got up close with a few Hares. I had been trying all day to get a good Hare action shot when a shout from Liz that a Hare was coming my way got my attention. I managed to spot her among the heather going from right to left and followed her along for as long as my camera would go, I managed a shot of sorts but it wasn’t just as good as I hoped! Sunday was an equally enjoyable day and although very wet we enjoyed some great sport and I managed more Hare shots in a small field which always holds a one, usually in the same clump of reeds in the same corner, which always goes the same way out. I drove home that evening very content. I replayed it all over and over in my mind and decided that Beagling has to be one of the finest country sports anyone can take up. Pearl S Buck said, “Many people loose the small joys in the hope for the big happiness”, I think she must have went Beagling now and again!

 This year things have been a little different as the season simply has not ended as is usual. Almost completely by accident back in late September last year I took on some rabbit work on a professional basis. It was a small job which quite quickly became a large one and I have been busy ever since. It has taken some getting used to and has been a very different scenario for me, not only have I been working seven days a week for months at a time, but I have been required to keep my nose firmly to the grindstone at all times! Being a roustabout rabbit catcher, and being a professional rabbit catcher are two very different trades indeed and the transformation has not been easy! A typical day before was always an early start, but an early start wherever I wanted it to be, high on the hills or low on the banks of the river. I was quite simply a free spirit, roaming with my Lurchers and Longnets wherever my desire took me and if  should decide to pack up at lunchtime and go to shoot pigeons then that was exactly what I would do. If I decided to leave the nets and simply have a days sport with the ferrets and dogs, I would do that too. Now it is a little different and time as well as numbers are of the essence. The particular area in question has been a haunt of mine for considerable years; in fact I first ferreted here when I was a little more than 12 or 13 years old and have been there off and on since. But although I have been spending a lot of hours here several days a week since last autumn and right through into summer catching rabbits, I have been privy to some fantastic sights. I never realised just how much wildlife this area held and when I look back over the last few months I have had some unforgettable moments. One of my finest occurred just a few weeks ago. It was around 10.30 in the evening and I was laid up along a fence line waiting on rabbits to come onto some ground opposite to feed. The mist was falling heavy right across the area and as the light fell, an inky darkness began to swallow up the light as the mist got thicker and deeper by the minute. Directly in front of me something caught my eye, and as it glided silently out of the mist and directly towards me I squinted to make out what it was…Closer and closer it got, eerily silent, alluring and almost spooky. As it reached the fence line I stood up for a closer look and it went skywards while looking directly at me, our paths were no more than two feet apart for a split second and I caught every detail of my fellow hunter. The large dark mysterious eyes that reached far into her soul and mine, a face that told of 1000 dark nights and a beak that was gentle enough to feed the most delicate chicks but tough enough to tear apart even the toughest rat in order to do so. I had been face to face with one of our most endangered birds, the Barn Owl. A bird that has always fascinated me I have finally had a really close look at in the wild, and what a way to see her. Gliding almost ghostlike from the mist, I wish my camera had been in my hand instead of my gun, it would have been the shot of a lifetime. This was the most recent and only one of some of the fantastic moments I have had on this ground over the course of almost a year. It was fantastic to watch the wildlife roll through the seasons.

As spring broke the Fieldfares which had wintered here along the marsh disappeared and were replaced by huge numbers of Wheatears which are attracted to the area each year. The old Rooks built tirelessly from dusk to dawn, and as it is only a small Rookery I spared them from a pie this year at least, their nests all built very tightly at great heights among the trees. The wood Pigeons too nested in significant numbers, their scantily built nests holding usually no more than a pair of glossy white eggs and strangely left alone by the Rooks who were close by. How Wood pigeons nests and eggs survive is a mystery as anyone would think to look at the nest it is only half built and the eggs will fall at any minute! The smaller birds too nested in throughout the area and I found some fantastic works of avian architecture from tits, sparrows, blackbirds and thrushes, and to my delight a Dunnocks nest tucked in a small tree. One particular wet morning I spotted some movement on a rabbit warren and noticed a rabbit ducking in and out. Knowing something wasn’t quite right I got my binoculars for a closer look. I spotted a Stoat, a fellow hunter in hot pursuit of a rabbit for ten or more minutes until neither party returned, my friend obviously having delivered the Coup de grace, I have always loved Stoats and take delight in any chance I get to watch them which isn’t very often. The cubbing earth I found and kept an eye on for some months has now been abandoned, the Cubs are out on there own and I have bumped into two of them together several times while on my rounds. One evening they came running at the beam of my lamp, and the next time we met they were quite obviously hunting through the long grass, and appear to be getting bigger and stronger each week. The huge quantity of insect life that makes this area the small eco system that it is is another fascinating angle I have kept an eye on during my time here. Meadow Browns, Ringlets, Peacocks and small Tortoise shells are just a few of the many various species of Butterfly we have saw in a day during this month. Butterflies are something that never interested me until a few years ago, and I liken them to a new type of car that you haven’t noticed until someone shows you one, then you see them everywhere! I have been feeling recently that time has been going a little too fast for my liking, my grandmother told me years ago that when I got to 21 time would go by in a flash and to try and catch it all as I go. She was right as she always was, and these days I try to savour every moment I have and soak up every second of whatever I am doing. From wet ducks, to fast Irish Hares, ghostly Barn owls, speedy stoats and dainty Butterflies I have enjoyed it all and I hope there is more to come, because one thing I am sure of is that memories are most certainly sweeter than dreams.