Wildfowling: Terror on the Marsh
Mike had heard all the tales. Hell, he’d even made up some of his own over the years to try and scare the out of towners and holiday makers as he and his pals drank [more…]
Mike had heard all the tales. Hell, he’d even made up some of his own over the years to try and scare the out of towners and holiday makers as he and his pals drank [more…]
A few people have asked me since the last article to write a little bit about a fundamental part of the sport, which would be the guns themselves. I have touched briefly on this previously, [more…]
Evening flight had been a total loss and the bad weather looked to be closing in fast. Jay the Spaniel cut a piteous figure, highlighted as he was in the feeble light from a head [more…]
Sadly, this is the last in my short series about my great passion, and it is also the least satisfying part to write. It is no longer a missive about my personal experiences, but the [more…]
This was harder to write than my previous two wildfowling articles because it’s not easy for me to clearly remember something that happened 25 years ago. I’ve never been one for recording stuff in a [more…]
Having made my debut on this marvellous site with an article about my passion, I thought I would follow that article up with a slightly more personal account of a memorable day in my life [more…]
Wildfowling is sometimes known as goose fever, for it is about the most addictive of the shooting sports. There is something primal about being out in the tidal marshes on a moonlit night, or a [more…]
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