At 10, my son Charlie is at a delightful age. Hormone-induced angst and mood swings are horrors yet to be encountered. He uses his bedroom for the purpose of sleeping in, rather than skulking. The bathroom, he believes, is a place best avoided and I continue to be a hero figure whom he actively wants to spend time with.
This will all change when he turns 13, at which point I will morph, almost overnight, into a tediously decrepit old embarrassment. Therefore I am making the most of these golden years and it barely took the slightest shake of his shoulder for the boy to spring out of bed and don his shooting clothes in a flurry of chatter and eye glittering excitement.
Today, we were out on the pheasants, wild ones. Brian and Patrick Barker farm in the neighbouring village to mine. They are as close as we get to celebrities around these parts. As multi-award-winning conservationists, they are frequent guests on radio and TV, while newspapers feature their nature-friendly farming. They shoot their wily, wild pheasants three times a season and I am fortunate to receive an annual invitation.
Wildlife in mind
Wild pheasants are as challenging as they come. The land over which you tramp is a sea of nitrogen-fixing mixes, undersown stubbles and pollinator plots, so much green in a surrounding ocean of brown. The Barkers manage their hedgerows with game and wildlife in mind; the numerous woodland blocks are similarly well-loved.
Esta historia es de la edición January 06, 2021 de Shooting Times & Country.
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Esta historia es de la edición January 06, 2021 de Shooting Times & Country.
Comience su prueba gratuita de Magzter GOLD de 7 días para acceder a miles de historias premium seleccionadas y a más de 9,000 revistas y periódicos.
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