Poaching has been part and parcel of rural life for centuries, usually carried out to procure food or as a means of making a slightly better living than other country people. The practice was particularly rife during the late Victorian and the Edwardian periods, when penalties were less harsh than in the past and large stocks of gamebirds and ground game could be found on sporting estates throughout the country.
The persons involved were invariably poor and were quite prepared to face the prospect of serving a short prison sentence in return for putting a few decent meals on the table or to earn ‘beer money’. Most poachers eventually got caught and had to pay the price for their misdemeanours. A few of the more daring characters, however, had highly successful poaching careers, outwitting keepers and policemen for decades and became legendary but now forgotten figures.
Tom Davey was a larger-than-life, early-20th-century Norfolk poacher who earned the unlikely admiration of my head keeper great-uncle for his brazen cheek and bravado. Based in a village near Thetford in the midst of some of England’s finest shoots, he had started life as a farm labourer but had somehow scraped together enough money to buy a small cottage with a couple of paddocks and to buy a horse and cart. His day job involved transporting goods to local market towns for farmers and collecting parcels from shopkeepers and railway stations for villagers and others.
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