Topping The Bill

Rupert spots an enticing and unusual sporting opportunity on a nearby farmer’s field, and after a bit of bartering he manages to strike a deal that ends up working for them both

- Rupert Butler

Not long ago, while planting some trees for a local farmer, I spied a small flash pond in the corner of one of his fields. Being a nosy bugger of long standing I decided, instead of having my morning cup of coffee, that I would take a wander down and investigate further.

I was 100 yards or more away when I realised that there was a bunch of ducks feeding merrily at one side. My anticipation heightened dramatically on realising that the ducks in question were none other than a flock of shoveler. As you and I know, meeting a shoveler at any time is a rare occurrence, let alone a flock some 40 strong. Now the only problem I had was to convince the farmer that I was a suitable candidate to be let loose on his non-shooting farm.

He came down at dinnertime to check my progress, which I must admit was extremely brisk given my intent to please. As the conversation rolled back and forth, covering every topic known to man, I waited for an opportunity to drop in my unlikely request. Suddenly, out of the blue, he asked me what type of ducks were down in the bottom paddock, for he had never come across their like before, all the while wearing a knowing smile that was threatening to burst into a grin at any second.

The stalker had become the stalked. He must have spotted me when I hurried down earlier. I had to hold my hands up while proceeding to wax lyrical about my favourite type of duck.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting to go down there some evening for a shot,” he spouted before I had a chance to finish.