Never A Cold Shoulder

A shoot in the Derbyshire dales offers some challenging shooting amid freezing conditions, but Sam Proctor finds a warm welcome

Derbyshire is a peaceful place at the liveliest of times but the county was positively soporific as I pulled my wellies on next to the weir and moss-covered bridge. Giles Bramwell, the shoot captain and fulltime vet, had assured me that smoke would be visible out of the chimney upon arrival and I could see a ruddy glow through the lead-lined windows of the mill house.

The fantastic pinks of the freezing winter dawn had barely subsided as the Guns stomped up the wooden steps. mugs of coffee passed hand to hand throughout the roof space — soon followed by the numbered stirrup cups, received with crossed fingers hoping for a favourable spot on the first drive. After a professional introduction accompanied by maps and a safety brief, we headed off.

This shoot’s land was historically for the tenants of Chatsworth’s farms and this has continued, with almost every inch farmed by one of the Guns. rather fortunate, as some cattle required a little coaxing away from the pond and riverbank and I was glad to be surrounded by some experienced hands.

But now for some ducks, much to the delight of Richard Gill’s veteran Labrador, Purdey, who was itching to get started. With Guns in place the only noise was the occasional goodhearted ribbing between the regulars. As I wasn’t shooting I could smile at each jibe, safe in the knowledge that nothing would come my way.

Alas, I was wrong. tony Stone shouted down the line that a mother and her calf — the former with some quite formidable horns — had taken a liking to my rather bright socks and garters, suggesting that I should take a few steps forward. As if on cue, the first flurry of mallard nipped down the treeline followed by a quick despatch from both of Tony’s barrels. This short but sweet drive, named Quaker, ended with the successful Guns having to coax their dogs back across the chilly river.