24th January –Shooting -The End of Season Rush

 Today was the first of four shooting expeditions planned in the next seven days. The end of the season is rapidly approaching and to avoid despondency I intend to have had more than my fill by the time it comes. At least 15 years ago during my Christmas holidays I was a regular beater on the local shoot and since then a friendship has developed with the proprietors, a husband and wife team who being old friends of H’s often turn up on his shoot days. It was this couple who invited me on their shoot today and quite a privilege it was too as I have no way of offering them a return day, which is the usual exchange for such an invitation.

Being back on the old farm filled me with childhood memories: old man T espousing the history of chestnut coppicing and the decline of the brown hare whilst we trundled from drive to drive on the old trailer; the tractor adorned with scores of fox tails tied about its roll bar. One memory, perhaps the most vivid will likely never be invoked again - the smells and sites of the traditional hop packing shed where lunch was taken. Once up the open backed flight of stairs, the wooden floorboards, impregnated with pungent yellow pollen were tacky underfoot and from the corner loomed the ancient press, a great hulk of cast wheels and cogs. Like the old man the shed is gone now, burnt when drying hops were kindled by the kiln (a common enough incident in the old oasts) and has been replaced by a modern building, all concrete, profile sheeting, conveyor belts and automated machinery. Still as farms go nowadays, they don't get much more traditional. The Ts' small estate is something of a rarity, a true mixed set-up still producing hops, fruit, cereal crops, timber and sheep in the time-honoured fashion. This practice, carried on for generations, has resulted in a block of land filled with nostalgia and practical beauty, consisting of oak stands interspersed with hop gardens, old-fashioned orchards, small paddocks and fields of green wheat.

This entry was meant to be about shooting and I shall quickly mention that in the miserable wind and rain I shot with average ability at not many birds, finishing with a modest but satisfactory total of three pheasants and one pigeon. I say quickly because it is of far more interest to note that I nearly lost the dog, not through running off but dying! I have mentioned the trailer earlier and it is still in operation - a long flatbed with a double row of straw bales running up its centre to serve as seats. The dog, attached by a long lead to my cartridge belt sat beside me at the front of the trailer, then without warning decided to jump off.  The tractor, no longer hung with tails in these sensitive times, was moving at a fair pace and immediately the lead snapped tight and began dragging her in towards the trailer and its large wheel. Instinctively I leapt myself, being thrown violently sideways as I hit the ground, but to my great surprise I wasn't hurt and the dog was saved.

Dinner

Mutton curry with rice and cabbage. I returned home to a fantastic meal, much-needed after standing around in the rain all day.