6th November - Punt Shot

New hob 'Mace'

I maintain the traditional country view that the abstract concept of sport in relation to despatching animals has no bearing when it comes to putting meat on the table. Yes, the ‘potshot’ is still alive and well round here and when I saw a couple of hundred pigeons turn on the wind and land in the opposite paddock, I had no hesitation in grabbing my gun and rushing over. The feeding flock were over 80 yards from the nearest cover and knowing that an approach for a conventional shot would scatter them long before I was in range, I went instead for the ‘punt shot’. Sliding two heavily loaded BB cartridges into my side-by-side, I darted across the gap between rusty hopper huts and knelt by the old cook house’s crumbling chimney. Away towards the centre of the field the flock, still occupied with plucking clover, replaced the green sward with an exquisite dusty blue-grey sheen.  My plan had been to employ the old pan gunners method - make a noise then release shot into the rising birds - but shout and whistle as I did, not pigeon took flight or even looked up. Thwarted, I decided on releasing one barrel at the walking flock and another as they came up, so crouching down to increase the BB shots' spread, I prepared to fire. BANG - a tremendous shock into my shoulder, the clattering of wings and the dusty grey turned to a blur of white under feathers. BANG -  the flock shimmered up as one body, wheeled and made for a distant copse. Behind them lay three lumps in the grass and I ran out for the retrieve. Not the bag I had hoped for, but success nonetheless - three clean kills and poor man's steak back on the menu.

Besides running courses, another revenue stream comes from hedge laying and today I had two jobs to look over. The first was a nonstarter and the second, closer to home could be a useful gig but of far more interest was a paddock I passed, occupied by half a dozen pied traveller ponies with beautiful flowing fetlocks. I had to look twice, as after a single glance I was left with the impression of polystyrene fragments blown across the grass in huge quantities. Of course, the debris was in fact hundreds of field mushrooms. I had never seen a place so encrusted and immediately I was reminded to visit my own favourite spots! Further on towards Yalding a weasel hurried across the road before me and I couldn't help laughing out loud. There is something extremely comic about their frantic manner and tails which seem to whirl in time to their scurrying legs.  I am often asked by friends to advise whether they have spotted a stoat or a weasel.  To make the size comparison I always compare the latter to a stretched mouse and I never fail to be struck by just how small they are.

I omitted to mention yesterday that new stock has been acquired. My parents travelled to the poultry auction and bought a new bronze stag turkey to cover our hens and unexpectedly came back with five Muscovy ducks as well! The stag is a good-looking fellow and well covered in flesh, so next year's growers should be nice and meaty. After the shoot O and I went back to head beater A's house and having admired his menagerie and garden, emerged with a new hob, a slight, friendly ferret with black eyes and so-called silver fur - white with black tips. He has received the rather contrived name of 'Mace' so that one of the offspring from him and my Jill named ‘Nutmeg’ might be christened ‘Mixed Spice’.

Dinner

Sage and onion Toad-in-the-Hole with steamed cabbage. It’s always nice to do variations on a theme and the addition of a few stage leaves and onion slices before the batter goes over the sausages makes a delicious change.