Shooting for a perfect ten

Three species in the bag before breakfast bodes well for one of those magical days when everything comes together

- SIMON GARNHAM

In an easterly wind that slipped through my old tweed jacket like a sharpened bayonet, the last day of the season began for me in an ambush. A fox had been helping itself from one of the feeders and I’d spotted it before dawn the previous day. As Charlie is wont to do when there are easy pickings, he tried to repeat the trick at around 6.15am on Saturday, 30 January. It was to be a fatal mistake, affording a relatively straightforward shot with the .223. I crouched against some ancient round bales in the pre-dawn darkness, regretting my lack of thermals. The fox emerged from cover and began to feed. A single shot dropped it.

Charlie turned out to be Charlotte: better still; this was an excellent time of year to get a vixen. Territories are established but cubs have not yet arrived. It augured well for the day which was to be an informal father and-son walk-round. COVID-19 had put paid — like so many things — to the usual end-of-season beaters’ day chaos. We were going small-scale.

William joined me at 7am with his 20-bore. He was wearing every piece of warm kit he owned. The rifle was replaced with a shotgun and we added an ultra-enthusiastic labrador to the team, setting out into an area of ‘rewilding’ — some might say neglect — near the railway line. Within a few minutes, William was shooting into the brambles and Scout emerged with a fat buck rabbit. I surprised myself with a very high crow that wheeled overhead 50 yards out. It turned away from us, exposing its vulnerable underside, and folded like a fist to the top barrel. It wouldn’t be troubling the yellow wagtails or corn buntings this spring. Three species in the bag before breakfast. Spirits were high.