I remember the first time I was invited to a wild bird day. It was a cold January morning and I stood on the edge of an old woodland filled with oaks and ash that sloped away into a deep valley where the other Guns stood waiting, nervously shifting their feet, for the first bird to appear.
My job for the first drive was to shoot any wily old cock pheasants that turned back over the beaters and headed for safety in the trees behind me. The first bird went out to the left and high over the Guns before falling to the second shot. The second followed a right-angle trajectory and made it through to the other side of the valley amid a volley of shots. The third bird had evidently seen what was going on in the valley and made up its mind to take its chances over my head.
Spectacular
It wasn’t the highest bird I have ever seen but this cock pheasant was going like the clappers and its burst of speed made me miss spectacularly with both barrels behind. Another bird left the wood heading towards the Guns in the valley. But suddenly, upon seeing all those men dressed in tweed, it performed a fast 360-degree turn and flew straight over the beaters’ heads.
This unpredictability is the essence of wild pheasants, of those birds that were born and raised on the ground you’re shooting over rather than being put down. Unpredictability, however, comes in many forms. First you have the height. Reared pheasants tend not to have the X factor in this category unless you have a cliff you are pushing them over.
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