The season ends with Mob rule

A surprise invitation and a fast hen mean the season closes on a remarkable high

And so another pheasant season has come and gone and we shall have to wait something like 10 months before we lift our guns on to the first pheasant of another autumn. At the moment, next autumn looks a distant prospect but I draw comfort from the thought of all the fishing that lies ahead and from the fact that — sad though it is that 1 February is already no more than a memory — the last week of my season was just about the best week of the lot.

On the Monday, I shot with the Mallerstang Mob. It was a day of racing sunshine and swift-sailing clouds, and pheasants got on the wind and knew where they were going.

I killed three birds with five cartridges and, at the end of a season when I have shot indifferently, I felt quietly pleased with myself and grateful to the Mob for making me a part of their last day. The bag was 28 pheasants and, as we stood and talked of one thing and another before going our separate ways, I wondered all over again why so many guns can only declare a day successful if the bag totals 200 or 300 birds.

Tuesday brought High Park’s final shoot. I carried a gun on the first two drives but never pulled the trigger because the birds did what they were meant to do and flew over our guests. Then I put my gun away and worked young Zac, and the birds still behaved themselves. Once again, it was an ideal shooting day, with a bright sky and a lively wind, and the guns shot well.

There were 33 pheasants to share among us at the end of the last little drive. Driving the short road home, I could not see how another 100 birds would have significantly improved the day’s pleasure and satisfaction.