Over the years many funny and often not so funny incidents have happened on the foreshore and other shooting areas both to myself and other shooters. Below are just a few incidents that come to mind.

A huge rat is no more

Back in March 2010 I went ratting down at a friends small holding for the usual Friday night session. My mates and myself have been shooting the area for several years now. I'd set up in an alley between two sheds which were about three feet apart. The bait was laid and I'd got my gear into position, night vision ready and infra red light switched on. In the alley is a large stone which shows about 3" above ground level and my bait was laid next to it. The infra red light allows me to switch off my NV scope and shoot without it for so long. I spotted a rat appear from under the concrete floor of the shed, it was huge, I carefully took aim and over it went. I put the air rifle down to go and pick it up and it was gone, I shouted my mate and we searched for it, it had crawled in a hole just off to one side. On pulling the rat from the hole my mate was in stitches, it was a small one and I'd been enthusing about it being huge. I couldn't believe it but I was subjected to a dose of serious pee taking as you can imagine. I was puzzled to say the least and pondered on how I could have shot a rat that small when I knew for a fact the one I'd seen was huge. About 20 minutes later the huge rat appeared again and this time paid the price, I took it in triumph to my mates and said now tell me I was dreaming. I took the photograph below of it and the only thing I can think of was that I'd seen the body of the huge rat and the small one was in front of it which had made me think that it was the huge rats head. I've no other explanation for such a strange thing but at least some more of my mates chickens will be safe with the demise of that monster.

The rat compared to a size 11 shoe

Seal of approval - well almost

Myself and my brother Dek were on a moon flight back in the Winter of 1991. We set our hide up with our backs to a large land drainage outfall creek, the tide was rising and reached high tide about 30 minutes or so after our arrival. The decoys were placed in a splash approximately 30 yards away and we waited patiently. The night was still and the cloud cover perfect, ideal for the Wigeon which were flighting up and down the river Humber whistling and weeoooing as they went. The water in the creek was about 6 feet behind us and gently lapping at the grass. All of a sudden there was a very loud huuhhhhng sound, my brother and myself jumped up startled and almost in unison said what the f***^^k was that? On looking round we saw the cause, a seal was in the water not more than 10 feet away from us and looking curiously at these strange two legged creatures. We both laughed afterwards but at the time my heart was pounding ninety to the dozen. You could say that night we had the "seal of approval" for our shooting session. The amount of wildlife and the close proximity that shooters see it in is one of the best things about shooting apart from the meals of course.

A rat in love?

During June 2008, Chris my mate and myself went ratting down to a small holding belonging to another  friend as we have done regularly for the past 18 months or so. My mate that owns the small holding breeds chickens and the place as you can imagine is a magnet for the scaly tails. Chris had set up in his favourite place inside one of the sheds, when it came to a cup of coffee time Chris told us this story. He'd been sat with his lamp on and bait out waiting for the rats to put in an appearance, earlier on he'd been telling my mates girlfriend he was trying the new chocolate deodorant from a well known maker. He felt what he thought was a mosquito or something similar on his leg, he looked down and saw a rats tail, what he could feel was the rat halfway up his trousers leg. We took the pee out of Chris and told him the rat was in love with him and his deodorant was having the "effect" We told him to phone the makers or write a letter of complaint saying the "effect" wasn't up to scratch and he wanted his money back. Poor Chris has never lived that night down, we keep asking him if he's having a love affair with any rats each time he sets up in that particular shed. It just shows that rats aren't as wary of humans as people think, that's probably why they are so prolific.

A lesson learned - be safe

An incident which happened in 1989 springs to mind. I'd been teaching my middle son Wayne how to use a gun safely and sensibly, he was 13 at the time. I'd drilled safety into him from the start, he'd been made to carry an unloaded air rifle for 3 months only loading it as and when a shot was likely, I then progessed him onto a .410 as he had his own licence, after another 3 months I bought him his first single barrel 12 bore, he was over the moon.
We went shooting down a local area I had shooting rights on and were walking alongside a disused railway siding, I'd allowed him to load the gun as he seemed to have mastered the safety aspects. It was warm and there were plenty of rabbits about, I'd drilled it into him about not keeping his finger on the trigger of any gun time and time again. His gun was an old BSA one without a safety catch which had an under lever opener just in front of the trigger guard, the lever was trigger shaped. After a couple of hundred yards there was a bang as his gun went off, thankfully he was pointing the gun safely as I'd taught him. I took the gun and smacked him hard across the head he staggered across three rails of the track and fell over (you wouldn't get away with doing that now) when he picked himself up I asked "you know what that was for?" he said through the tears "yeah I do dad but I wasn't messing with the trigger, I went to open the gun and hit the trigger by accident, I thought it was the opener" I said "well son I'd sooner you have a few bruises and learn your lesson than be dead or kill someone else, so next time you'll learn to look what you're doing" I gave him the dad cuddle and he soon forgot the slap but he never forgot the lesson. He's 31 and doesn't shoot now more's the pity, he was a good wildfowler but he's never forgotten that day.
 

Chase gets a "leg up"

A few years ago myself and my brother Dek had decided to go shooting on the large estate where kwacs have the vermin control rights. It was mid december and we decided to take the ferrets as well just in case the pigeons weren't going to play ball on the oil seed rape. The van was loaded, both dogs in the back and the ferrets in their carrying box in the back. We set off to go the 25 miles to the area we shoot as we were travelling along towards the area Chase Deks dog seemed very restless, he was up and down in the back of the van and seemed to be shaking his back leg. Dek shouted at him to lay down several times but he seemed to be ignoring him, I said he probably needs to go out. Dek pulled into a lay by and went to the back of the van he began laughing I said what's so funny? he said nah wonder he won't lay down the ferret is hung on his back leg, sure enough one of the ferrets had escaped from the cage and was gripping firmly onto Chases leg he did not mark it and Chase did not make a murmur. Dek got hold of the ferret and said You can't have that it's too big for you. The ferret was placed back in it's cage and Chase was no worse for wear. We had a successful days ferreting and the dogs were made to sit and watch, the exercise helped to increase their steadiness as the rabbits bolted and were shot and both were allowed retrieves throughout the day.

Listen to good advice

It was late December 1989 when myself and my middle son Wayne who was 13 at the time decided to go on an evening flight on the river Ouse, the tide was due to reach full at around 7.30pm. We arrived on the foreshore and set our hide up in good time, our decoys were placed on a nice splash behind our position which had been dug out by the local river authority, the soil being used to strengthen the flood bank. The wind was heavy and coming in from the east. We sat waiting for the wigeon as the tide moved steadily in, sure enough a few wigeon were heard approaching and we managed to bag a pair. About 7.50pm Wayne said "Dad this tide is still coming in" I said "don't talk daft boy the full tide was at 7.30pm it's slack tide now" He looked at me and said "Dad it is look at that wood floating out there and the water is coming over the greenshore up there" he pointed towards our right. Sure enough the wood was travelling up river and the water was a lot higher than usual. I stood up and turned to face the flood bank behind us, to my surprise the water had curled round and filled the creek behind us, all that could be seen was an expanse of water some 50 to 60 yards wide and our half a dozen decoys floating in it, we were on an area of higher ground. I told Wayne to start packing the hide and I would retrieve the decoys, I waded out to the decoys and the water came to around knee high on my waders. We packed the gear and headed for the bank, the creek close to the base of the floodbank was only a shallow one but by now with the extra water it was going to be fairly deep. I felt around with my foot and found the edge of the creek, "stay there boy I said and I'll lift you across the creek" I stepped forward and that was it I was up to my waist in water, Wayne said "Dad if we drowned I'll kill you" I laughed "you'll be ok boy I said come here" he came towards me and I lifted him across the creek to the safety of the bank. Had we been beyond a very deep creek things could have been very different, we were both wet through but both safe thankfully. A hot bath and a good meal soon found us both back in the pink so to speak but the flight brought home to me that the advice "get to know the area intimately and the effect of the weather on the tides" is good advice and relates to almost any wildfowling situation. I had shot the greenshore in that area for years without incident but just that once circumstances were different and we could have paid a high price for the experience.

A killer "tamed"

Ferrets as most people will know are natural predators and will kill prey much larger than themselves, a trait inbred from their wild origins but can they really be "tamed"? I would say the answer to that is definitely yes and this story is why I say that.

It was Spring 1989 my daughter Pauline was 14 at the time and loved to handle and look after our ferrets. We'd decided to go to a local fly ash tip made from years of spoil from the local coal fired power station and do some bolt and shoot rabbiting. There are literally 100's of rabbit warrens around the tip, being fly ash it is very like sand so easy digging for them which results in very big warrens. We'd let Tess who was Paulines favourite small bitch polecat ferret loose and Pauline stood 15 yards away on the top of the lower section of the tip out of harms way while I stood on the track waiting for the rabbits to show. I'd shot five rabbits and eventually nothing else made an appearance, Tess was working the bank well and headed towards the dyke below my position. The vegetation was well established in the dyke although sparse as usual on the bank itself, fearing that we would lose Tess if she was allowed to get into the dyke, I told Pauline to come and get her before we lost her. Pauline said Dad it's ok we'll not lose her, I said we will if she gets into this long grass and gets a good way along the dyke without us seeing her. Pauline said no we won't, she began a soft clucking type noise and called Tess's name, I was amazed when Tess immediately turned round and made her way the 15 yards back up the bank to where Pauline was, Pauline calmly picked her up and placed her in the box after stroking her and scratching her belly. Had anyone told me their ferret would respond like a dog to them I would have been sceptical to say the least but having seen it with my own eyes I couldn't question that they could be "tamed" to such a degree. Pauline spent a couple of hours with the ferrets each night after school, perhaps this loving care was the reason Tess had responded the way she had to Paulines voice who knows.

Watch the tide

A few years ago I ventured out on a morning flight on the Humber, the fog was dense and the tide was rising to full just in time for daylight. As I walked down to my position I was greeted by a friend and his Springer spaniel dog. We exchanged the usual banter and spoke of the "riptide" which flowed round a light house close to my friends position, I warned him of the strength of the current and told him to be careful if he sent his dog in there. Later on in the day we met up again as we left the foreshore and he recounted what had happened. His dog had gone in after a wounded wigeon as the tide was in full flow, the tides on the Humber reach a rate of 7 knots and more. He'd sent his dog in after the wigeon, the dog disappeared under the swirling water and he feared for it's safety, fortunately the dog proved extremely resilient and it surfaced approximately 300 yards down river still carrying the wigeon. The dog was exhausted but unhurt by the incident, I reproached my mate in no uncertain terms for being so stupid as to allow his dog in there in the first place but all ended well and the dog recovered. I said to my mate was it really worth risking losing your dog for the sake of one wigeon? He agreed it wasn't worth that, at least he'll think twice about sending his dog into unknown territory next time.

"Mother Nature" drops in

It was winter time, the Oilseed Rape had been drilled and had reached about three or four inches in height. The rape was receiving the unwelcome attention of the large pigeon flocks which had gathered throughout the autumn. I set myself up at the end of a rape field behind a Hawthorn hedge at the base of a fir tree in a spinney which overlooked the field. My full face ski mask was donned and my hide was constructed from the Elderberry bushes which were invading the Hawthorn hedge. After placing the decoys out and settling down the morning begain quite well and I had accounted for a dozen or so pigeons by dinner time. Bud lay by my side quite contented and quite alert for action, the pigeon activity had dropped to zero by this time and I sat with my gun across my knees contemplating why. Shortly after I caught a movement to my left I turned my head slowly to see a Blue tit flitting along the hedgerow heading for where I sat. The bird casually flitted from the hedge and sat on the barrels of my gun, Bud looked up seemingly bemused by my failure to react. The Blue tit sat there for a few seconds and then flitted off back to the hedge unaware of my presence or maybe uncaring and disappeared along the hedgerow. I thought then of how many people miss the sights available to us in nature by not being out in the countryside. The abundance of wildlife and the wonders of "Mother Nature" are truly a sight to behold at times.

On another occasion I'd set my pigeon hide up on a freshly drilled pea field my back to a small spinney of low bushes, the camouflage net was touching the side of a stump about a foot high directly in front of my hide. The pigeons started arriving almost immediately in small groups of three or four, their wings set they came straight in without hesitation. About a hour later I caught a movement to my left along a hedgerow that ran down the perimeter of the field, it was a Sparrow Hawk swooping low along the hedge top, I gave it a cursory glance and turned back to watch the decoys. There was a group of four pigeons heading straight for the field about 70 yards away they flared and veered off, this happened several times. I was looking for the reason as you can imagine, there was no one working in the fields nearby, the decoys were still all in the same position and still upright, nothing had changed but still the birds veered off. I was puzzled and turned to Bud and said well mate I can't see what the hell the problem is, just then I caught a movement in front of my net. Looking down I was astonished to see the Sparrow Hawk sat on the tree stump not more than a foot from my legs watching the decoys with interest. It was a great sight to see such a magnificent bird close up but definitely not doing my pigeon shooting efforts a lot of good. I watched it for about five minutes then slowly leaned forward and blew on the birds head with a loud pffttt! it had the desired effect and the bird took off and flew over the hedge into the distance. The pigeon again began coming into the decoys and I finished the day with a nice bag, my pigeon pies and pasties were going to be available at the weekend after all.

A good "retrieve"

One Wednesday evening flight myself and my brother were on the Tay, the tide was rising, it was a pleasant evening in October and quite warm. Myself and Dek were walking out through the reeds at Errol along a grassy track towards the rivers edge, the water lapping round our feet. We knew there were creeks between us and the rivers edge some quite deep so we sent the dogs Bud and Chase off in front to find them before we did. As we strolled along talking Dek noticed Buds head go down, what's Bud just picked up? Dek said to me. I shouted Bud back to me and as he walked towards us we both looked in amazement, sticking out of his mouth was the back end of a shrew the tail going furiously round in circles we laughed as I said to Bud "dead leave it" he dropped the shrew which ran off across the grass still showing above the water unhurt and undisturbed by the interruption in it's journey, Bud tried to pick it again but was sternly reprimanded and the shrew disappeared into the grass quite unperturbed. It was the strangest retrieve either myself or Dek had ever seen but quite amusing. Although I often wondered what would have happened had the shrew bitten Buds tongue in fright, it could have been the end of a good dogs career but fortunately neither were harmed and Bud went on for a lot more years retrieving.

The natural instinct

About five years ago I was out carrying out a "blitzing" campaign on the rabbit population of an estate where kwacs manage the vermin control. One of the farmworkers Richard who had never seen ferrets in action was asked to accompany me for the day to help with the net setting and dispatching of the caught quarry. After showing Richard how to peg and set the nets, we began the job in hand. "Hoss" a huge albino ferret was introduced to the warren, Richard was positoned in the dyke to watch the nets on the bank side while I stood on the top of the bank gun in hand waiting for any "bolters" from the numerous holes which we were unable to net due to various reasons. After about 10 minutes we started to hear activity underground, Richard whispered he could hear thumping and I told him to be prepared to grab the net if a rabbit bolted and block the hole until he could reset it. Sure enough a couple of minutes later a rabbit hit one of the nets, closely followed by hoss popping his head out, satisfied all was in hand hoss turned and went back into the burrow. Richard dispatched the rabbit and reset the net, just then we heard a squealing from underground and close to Richard's position. Richard said "Dave I think hoss has caught one I can hear it and see it down here" I said "well collar him then and take it off him" Richard wasn't having any of that, he said "no way am I putting my hand in there" I said "he won't hurt ya" and went down to where he was, reaching into the burrow I felt the fur of the rabbit and took hold and began to pull it from the burrow. The squealing has stopped and we soon found out why, hoss had bitten clean through the rabbits spine at the base of it's neck. Richard was appalled at the sight but at the same time fascinated. "Is that what they do Dave or have you taught him to do that?" he asked, I said "they don't need teaching Richard that's the way they would kill their quarry in the wild, it's their natural instinct, we don't train them we use their natural instinct for our purposes, just the same as we would with a dog or any other domesticated animal" Richard had learned a little from the outing by witnessing the fact that with or without human intervention animals will and do kill each other and that they do it in a very savage way in a lot of cases. Hoss was given a drink and some of the rabbits liver as his reward for the work as myself and Richard collected the nets and moved onto the next set of burrows. This story in my opinion demonstrates the need to explain some aspects of the workings of nature to the general public. If a farm worker who is in close contact with the land daily is unaware of the ways of nature and things that take place in the fields and hegderows of our countryside, how can we expect "townies" and people who never come into contact with nature to understand what it's all about?.

"Pride comes before a fall"

Many years ago I joined a local wildfowling club and as a member had to complete 3 regulations visits accompanied by an already established member to each shooting area. Clive and Trev a couple of friends and I decided to go on a morning flight, the flight had ended and Clive who was the senior member of the club at the time, suggested we walk the length of the shooting area to make sure we knew the boundaries "I'll lead the way there's a couple of hidden creeks along here and I know the area better than either of you" he explained. We were walking steadily along the greenshore, Trev and myself chatting away and Clive some 15 yards or so in front of us. All of a sudden Trev and myself heard a short huh sound, looking up we discovered Clive had disappeared. A few seconds later a hand emerged from the grass of the foreshore followed by Clives face, it was like a scene from "dawn of the dead" or some other zombie film where they appear from the graves. Trev and I fell about laughing and of course you can imagine the comments "watch out Clive there's a couple of hidden creeks" "you better lead the way you know the area better than us" I asked Clive for an action replay as we'd missed it, that suggestion was greeted with something about going away, well I think that's what he said. We helped Clive out of the hidden creek and thankfully he was uninjured, the circumstances could have been a lot different if he had been alone and had broken something. We were amazed how he'd managed to fall in there in the 1st place, Clive is by no means a slight built person and the creek appeared to be about a foot wide, it turned out that it was covered with overhanging grass and was actually well undercut and nearer to 3 feet wide at its widest point. We never did get our action replay, some people are so inconsiderate.

"Do as I say not as I do"

It was a cold, frosty, night in October, the moon was full and the cloud cover was perfect every fowlers dream night for a moonflight. My son Wayne and myself had decided to go on an evening flight, my eldest son Darren accompanied us but was unarmed at the time (unfortunately he never did take up the sport himself) he preferred fishing but each to their own. When we reached the foreshore things couldn't have been better, as we approached the splashes we disturb approximately 300 to 400 Wigeon and Mallard feeding on the liberal amount of barley tailings which the club members had spread about. The hide was built, decoys in place and we were ready for action, the first wave of Wigeon came wheeeoooo'ing loudly over to the left of our position and way out of range, despite our calling and the decoys. We heard rather than saw the next batch from a good distance to the front of us and down river of our position, the calls came out and the group came steadily on, they were ours. Wings were set and they started to drop towards our decoys. We were up and at 'em bang! bang! bang! bang! 3 out of the 4 shots took their toll. Wayne and Darren were up ready to pick the birds but I said "nah you stay there lads I'll get 'em, it's a bit dodgy underfoot on the edge of those splashes" off I went, as I got to the edge of the splash, which was about a foot deep, the bank gave way and down went dad headlong into the splash. As you can imagine my sons were in stitches and the comments came thick and fast "watch it dad it's a bit dodgy out there" "you're too big for a decoy" "dad it's the ducks that are supposed to swim not you" I stood up amid guffaws of laughter coming from my sons "F*%*" that's cold, yeah I'm ok thanks for asking" I spat out. Needless to say they were too busy laughing to be concerned til well afterwards if dad was ok. Oh the joys of wildfowling, my clothes were changed and we continued the flight, taking the bag limit of 6 birds each. Despite my winter swim we'd had a successful flight and the wigeon tasted excellent that Sunday.

"There's no place like home"

In the winter of 1991 my brother Dek and myself had gone to the River Tay between Perth and Dundee, the week was marred unfortunately by what can only be described as "marsh cowboys" shoot at anything that moves no matter what distance types. We stuck it out but almost every flight they were there. By the Friday we'd had enough and decided to finish our week by dropping back to the John Muir country park near Dunbar for our final flight. We arrived there and set off for our favourite area the end of a large sandspit which ends close to the river the sea on our left, we placed a few duck decoys out in the river, built a tiny hide from the driftwood and seaweed scattered along the foreshore and waited. The sky darkened almost immediately after we'd gotten into position and the heavens opened, the rain lashed down, the visibility was down to zero. "Well that's that" we said almost in unison, we put our guns into the slips and collected the decoys and set off back for the car park. We were walking approximately 4 feet apart and could only just see each other, our voices were raised in an effort to make each other hear over the noise of the wind. About halfway along the sandspit we heard a voice shout "hey Dave is that you ?" Deks' comment was "I don't believe it, we're 300 miles from home, 500 yards out in the pouring down rain and some b*%&**d knows you" I laughed loudly at his comment and said "fame at last" The voice was that of a bloke from Newcastle area I'd met the year before when I'd visited the park. We walked back together and I thought then despite the weather, how good it was to bump into old friends and aquaintances and catch up on their outings. The following week we went to a clay shoot at Caistor about 30 miles or so away from home, first time we'd been. We walked into the cafe and a voice shouted "hello Dave, how's things" yeah you've probably guessed, Dek made like Victor Meldrew again "I don't believe it" "not again" it turned out the lady was the former secretary of an industrial vacuum firm I'd been employed with, she and her husband were regular clay shooters at that ground. Dek told her why he'd made the comment and she burst out laughing.

"Beware the tides"

It was a Wednesday evening flight in October we were on the Tay between Perth and Dundee, this was a regular pilgrimage for us and had been for a few years. We had met a lot of fellow wildfowlers on our trips and got to know one or two fairly well. As we left the car park for evening flight the tide was rising to full, the dogs were sent off in front, if they sunk into a creek it would give us a warning. We were halfway through the reeds heading for our favourite position the water lapping round our feet when we heard a voice, "Dave what time is the high tide mate?" I looked at my watch and looked where the voice was from. It was Pete if I remember correctly, a bloke from Grimsby we'd met a few times up there with his father and brother. He was perched precariously on a platform made of scaffolding sited out on the edge of the river, the water had reached above knee height already and he was beginning to panic as the tide was still on the rise. I said casually "you've about a hour and half or so yet mate before slack tide" Petes face went white "F*&* phone the coast guard or summat Dave I can't swim and this platform won't handle any more" I said "it's ok Pete we'll catch yer as you come past" His voice was rising in pitch all the time "get some help mate quick" I laughed, "nah it's ok Pete you've got about 10 minutes before slack tide mate" He called me a few choice expletives but the look of relief on his face was good to see. It could have been serious though had the wind been in the wrong direction or the platform had given way. Quite a few fellow fowlers have lost their lives or had to be rescued on the Tay and this story reinforces the statement "Study the tides and get to know them intimately"

"The forces of nature"

Pete a friend of mine had never been on a wildfowling trip, he wasn't a shooter but wanted to see what it was like. I phoned the booking in officer and arranged for Pete to accompany me on an evening flight. We'd arrived on the Humber and set up a hide close to a well known "splash" that the wigeon visited regularly. The full moon was due that night which is the main reason why I'd chosen it, there's nothing compares to a moon flight after wigeon in my opinion unless of course it's the geese. We could hear wigeon and geese calling but the geese were not on the move the wigeon were flighting up and down the river. The sky clouded over about 9.00pm I'd managed to bag a couple of wigeon and the light was down to nil. I decided to call it a night and we packed the gear as it started to drizzle with rain. We had a walk of approximately a mile and half with a long steep hill to climb on the last part of the journey. Bud my black labrador was walking along steadily with us, we got to within 100 yards or so of the gate which ended our shooting zone when we heard a strange noise, "Pete said what the hells that?" I said "I dunno mate but it's getting closer" by that the rain hit us in torrents. Bud disappeared in the mist which rose from the flood bank as the rain pelted down. Pete and I were walking almost shoulder to shoulder but could hardly see each other, suddenly a gust of wind almost pushed me flat on my face and I'm 21 stone so you can imagine the force. The next thing I heard was Pete shouting, I said "where are you mate?" his voice came back to me from down the land side of the river. "Down here Dave gis a hand mate" I went down to find Pete on the floor at the foot of the floodbank. After he got back to the top of the bank we discussed what had happened, the wind had been a mini tornado which had picked Pete clean off his feet and deposited him at the foot of the flood bank and on top of Bud, luckily neither were hurt. When we got back to the car we were both soaked to the skin and poured around a pint of rain from each welly. Pete had been in the "eye of the storm" he said that all he could see was a hole above him and he was going round and round, he said it was frightening to say the least. Pete is 6' 5" tall and weighs around 17 stone plus he'd got my bag on his back with the decoys etc in which added probably another 2 stone to the weight. The story could have ended tragically if the storm had taken him the other way he would have ended up in the river. Thankfully here in the UK we don't suffer from the effects of hurricanes, floods, earthquakes etc very often but my heart goes out to all the countries throughout the world that suffer disasters caused by the "forces of nature"

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