I used to do a lot, more so in my youth when I'd happily be standing out on the mud somewhere up from the Severn Bridge with a bit of snow in the wind on the off chance of a shot. So cold that I had to pour coffee over my hands to get the circulation back.
These days I'm softer but still enjoy inland flighting as it is like sewin fishing and gets your senses on edge straining to hear the duck going over and then looking for the dark shapes coming in over the trees hoping I can get the gun up quickly enough before the chance has gone.
__________________
“There is no more lovely country than Monmouthshire in early spring. Nowhere do the larks sing quite so passionately, as if somehow inspired by the Welsh themselves. There is a blackbird on every thorn and a cock chaffinch, a twink as they call him there, on every bush...... It moved me profoundly. I had been spared to see another spring, and I thank God for it.”
Oliver Kite
“A Spring Day on the Usk”
A Fisherman’s Diary
|