To Err Is Human...

… but the consequences can be disastrous, says Coombe Richards as he recalls a dismal day’s duck shooting that ended in unexpected glory

 

In company with our host we, the three nearside Guns, moved stealthily to our places, a row of hides sited with careful forethought. They were set in a crescent around the secluded, tree- and reed-girt duck ponds we were about to have driven to us. On the far side, hidden from view, walked the remaining two members of the party, with the keeper and his men waiting patiently in the background until everyone should have reached his stand and the signal been given for the operation — a set-piece this — to begin.

But suddenly and shatteringly from beyond the trees — bang! “What the…” began the righteously astonished host at my side, only to be interrupted by two more shots in quick succession. “What the devil’s going on?” he finally spluttered. “This really has torn it.” Then to us the command: “Everyone spread out quickly, do the best you can!”

Already the first startled rise of mallard had soared away unscathed, and others were audibly not far behind them. There seemed little doubt that those ill-timed shots had put paid to that particular part of the programme, yet luckily not entirely. In spite of them, thanks to the number of ducks present, everyone had some shooting — if rather disorganised and not strictly to plan.

Being the left-hand Gun, I was more fortunate than most, for S.

I reached my hide and was in action almost in one bound. I perhaps had more than my rightful share of what was offered, possibly more than if those three too-early cartridges had not been expended. It was an example of the odd chance doing some good, though not an excuse for the occurrence.