Let the fun begin

Rupert Butler on the start of his and his companions shooting year and the good times to look forward to

- Rupert Butler

As the first rays of light streak from the east, a lone mallard calls way out in front, quickly followed by several of his companions as they swoop down from the heavens to dine.

Lying still in the centre of a 70-acre stubble field I can feel the anticipation coursing through my veins, anticipation of not only what the morning may bring but of the season that lies ahead. While others delight beneath a warm duvet, I am here alone apart from the company of Toffee, my lab, and a bunch of decoys that I have scattered randomly.

Three shapes whoosh past, disappearing into gloom once again before I have a chance to release a barrel. I blow seductively on my caller in the hope that some rusty notes may change their minds. More by luck than my prowess, they decide to have a closer look and I manage to scrape one down at the second time of asking. Half an hour later I have half a dozen in the bag to join some woeful misses.

First up

Our first day out, 1 September, wouldn't be complete without a wander around those purple monstrosities in search of a grouse or two. After some quick refreshments I'm on the road again, meandering my way towards the Knockmealdown Mountains, which loom large on the horizon, traversing counties Tipperary and Waterford in southern Ireland. I stop en route to see if a duck or three might be lurking beneath some sallies on the River Tar. My intuition pays off as a large squadron takes to the air. On this occasion, however, I manage to miss with both barrels and the disgust on Toffee's face is clearly evident. In my defence I often find that too many birds is more of a hindrance than anything, as one tends to switch targets without ever settling properly.