Going back to school

Many shooters forget that a flighted pigeon is a difficult target but it can be great fun once you have re-learned the basics, says John Humphreys

- John Humphreys

The short pigeon roost shooting season began with a bang and ended with a whimper. At the beginning, the closely-ranked ivy-covered trees when viewed across a field of snow were reminiscent of the picture by Shepard of the Wild Wood in The Wind of the Willows, where Ratty and Mole were lost in the blizzard. The black trunks looked threatening: who could tell what lurked among them just waiting to leap out and grab you?

Shooting in a wood in which every twig is 10 times its normal thickness due to powdered driven snow is an eerie experience. The reverberation of each shot disturbs the air enough to bring down a shower and, if your pattern clips the end of a branch, you precipitate a minor avalanche. A faint but stiffening breeze brought more snow trickling off the filigree of twigs, each dislodged powder puff knocking others on its way down. Drop a pigeon and send it clattering through the branches and you start your own private snowstorm.

That was early, but on the last Saturday evening, it was the same wood but not the same wood, for the snow was now a memory. After today, the wood was to be left to the pheasants, but long-tailed tits worked the thorn hedge, blue tits chipped, chaffinches pinked and blackbirds cursed the tawny owls. There were palpable purple buds on the elders and the rooks passing high overhead had family matters in mind as they beat over raggedly, cawing cheerfully, towards the vicarage lime trees. The wood was now a place of friendliness, birdsong, portents of the changing year and far removed from the Wild Wood of earlier in the month.