Being one of four children and growing up on a farm, there was always someone to go outside and play with; building endless dens, making campfires, exploring the woods and playing numerous games of capture the flag. They say you can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family. I was exceptionally lucky that my three siblings were the best muckers to grow up with, and I couldn’t have chosen them better if I’d tried.
As the four of us got a bit older, our wanderings began to involve an air rifle, and later a .410, with explorations turning into hunts for rabbits and pigeon. Throughout our childhood, we developed a deep and lasting intimacy with our farm and the natural habitats it supported.
When we were children, our grandfather was part of a local shoot syndicate, covering ours and a number of surrounding farms, and we were often allowed to go along with him on shoot days, clad from head to toe in waterproofs. This is certainly where my passion for fieldsports was developed and solidified.
Our childhood was a pretty glorious one, but it was over all too quickly. University, jobs and the real world took over from climbing trees and roasting marshmallows, and gradually the amount of time we were able to spend at home on the farm diminished.
Opportunity
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