Turkish Delight

(The below was a description of an eventful day a few years ago..sent the artical to Shooting Times who did not wish to publish it so on it goes to the blog)

Turkish Delight

I will never forget one delightful day, if that’s the expression I can use, during a season a few years ago when a ‘shooting agent’ had booked a day for a team of guns on our estate in Hampshire. The agent when making the booking said all the right things and asked all of the right questions and of course I enquired as to the experience of the team. All seemed perfect and the date was duly booked followed by a deposit to secure the day.

The shoot itself consisted of relatively flat grounds utilising game cover crops and wood spinney's with two or three of the drives using the higher ground, this proved no problem showing the birds at a good sporting height as Michigan Blue Backs were the main stock and as everyone knows they do not need much encouragement to flush. There were also a number of larger wooded areas in the shoot boundary that were untouched until the later part of the season and duly kept aside for the main resident syndicate. Throughout the season to supplement the shoot coffers a few let days were sold mainly to local roving teams, on this occasion to a new team to our shoot.

The date arrived in early December, weather perfect, clouded sky with a slight wind, nature was on our side to provide a day that the guns should enjoy. The keeper had done his rounds earlier in the morning ensuring that all was well on the drives and pegs still standing plus dropping of one or two beaters to act as stops on the early drives. I had no concerns as to the guns arriving safely and on time as had phoned the agent a few days prior detailing directions and timings. We usually asked guns to arrived from 8:30 till 9:00 allowing every one a comfortable coffee and bacon sandwich in the gun room before sorting out dogs and guns into various vehicles. The keeper liked the guns to be on the first drive at around 9:30 before the birds started to wonder.

By 8:30am the gunroom smelling of fresh coffee and a full team of beaters plus the loyal dog team eagerly awaiting outside with the usual banter and laughter. The Keeper was nice and relaxed and instructions given to the beaters as to which drives and in what order. Half hour later and no sign of the guns, Keeper starting to get a little anxious, will hold on another five minutes before calling the agents mobile.

“We’re stuck in traffic on the M3 just north of Basingstoke, just passing the traffic accident, should be with you in 30 minutes” replied the agent. “Ok, no problem but we will have to go straight to the first pegs as soon as you get here, no time for coffee unfortunately” I responded. Details passed to the Keeper with the estimated time of arrival with another fithteen minutes added just in case. Keeper mutters under his breadth that the birds will start their morning stroll as he turns to inform the expectant beating team.

9:30 passed by, proceeded by 9:45 and the seconds ticked slowly to nearly 10:00am, the keepers face turning from normal jovial complexion to a near thunderous red.

Another call dialled, “Many apologies, had to stop at a service station as one the guns needed to visit the gents, will be with you in five minutes” I duly inform the Keeper who ranted “They have got ten minutes otherwise might as well cancel the bleep bleep day cause the birds won’t bleep bleep stay put for ever”

Tick tick tick tick……………….

At last, two gleaming Range Rovers pull into the drive by the Keepers cottage. Both of the vehicles look brand new with never a blade of grass passed under the tyres let alone a muddy field. By the time I’ve guided these 4x4’s down twisting gravel tacks over hanged with brambles and across rain drenched ploughed ground they will look like what they were designed for!

The beaters had already been dispatched to the first drive thus leaving myself and the Keeper to witness the passengers and drivers depart from their luxury chariots. Hopefully it goes without saying that on a fully driven day 99.99% of the participants would dress accordingly, green/brown boots, tweed/moleskins breeks, appropriate shirt and tie plus suitable coat. Not today, it was the 0.01%. Half of the team was dressed as though going to the gym, white trainers, multi coloured jogging bottoms and the other half in jeans ready for a walk down the shopping high street. I’m just waiting for the Keeper to explode. To top it all, the agent dressed in a shooting vest (black and red with a guns makers name emblazoned across the breast pocket more akin to the clay ground) and jeans, introduces himself. Clearly not a shooting agent at all and to make it complete his team of guns are on their first driven day having arrived from Turkey the previous day……..I just wished it was Aprils Fools day or would wake up from a nightmare dream.

What do we do Keeper? Cancel the day due to lack of sunglasses to avert the glare from bright white jogging pants or if very brave cross our fingers and crack on. Best of British we decide to give it ago, after all the guns had travelled all the way from Turkey and the beaters were ready for the off. After the sternest of safety talks vehicles are loaded up and the team change into their ‘shooting attire’.

First drive, birds to be pushed from wood into maze cover crop with the guns pegged in large open field. High excited voices from the team with shouts denoting every pheasant seen as I position each gun onto his peg pointing in the direction from where the birds will be flushed. At last, all guns on their correct peg and ready, cartridges loaded even before whistle blown to announce the start. Instructions strongly repeated to shoot the high birds only with slightly nervous glances from the flagmen, who included the Keepers wife, as they look over their shoulders. At this point I pray to a higher authority!

The beating line under orders from the Keeper slowly gets underway, a slow trickle of birds is needed so as not to confuse our over excited guns who cannot contain their adrenalin. It seems like an age before all hell breaks loose as the first hen bird flushes and heads towards the line, four of the guns are raised as the bird curls across towards number 6 peg and yes you guessed it every gun takes a shot, mercifully safely. As each bird took flight the levels of shouting rose until there were too many birds to contend with. Thankfully the first volley of shots continued to be safe and most birds taken at a good distance until it had to happen. Peg 8 was of course on the fringe of the action, whilst his colleagues enjoyed their good first peg positions his air space was thin of sporting birds that was until he decided to drop to his knees and shoot which resulted in two clouds of feathers and two minced pheasants landing with a squelch at his knees. But worse was to come which understandably turned the airwaves blue on the radio communication, whilst I was keeping a very focused eye on peg 8 the keeper had witnessed an action that could of led to dia consequences if I had not blown the whistle to end the drive early.
After the initial flushes of birds some of the guns whilst waiting for their next opportunity to shoot were holding their closed guns horizontally and not just pointing directly towards the beating line but also their own friends and even the picking up team as they turned to see the fruits of their shooting. Who likes to stare down two barrels of a shotgun when it’s loaded?

Both myself and the Keeper were for calling it a day there and then, no one likes to see pheasants blown apart and of course the safety aspects are paramount to all concerned. The guns were gathered round to here our views and a demonstration of how to correctly hold a loaded gun. I even resorted to pointing a broken gun at them to drive the message home. After ten minutes of declaring their intentions to abide by the strongest ticking off given we agreed reluctantly to carry on with the day. Thus not one foot was put of place or any other misdemeanours occurred throughout the remainder of the day, in fact it was good to see and watch a team of guns who thoroughly enjoyed their first taste of driven game and improve their prow ness when taking on the higher birds as their confidence grew.
There were just two sticky moments left to overcome as the day drew to an end, firstly I had to explain the voluntary tipping of the keeper and approximately how much and secondly as we sat down at the dinner table in a nearby excellent local restaurant to enjoy a hearty three coarse roast meal, with all of the trimmings, my forehead broke into a cold sweat. Here we are waiting for the main coarse surrounded on both sides of the table by Turks who included among them a Mayor from their town. Far to late to inform the chef that pork was a no no….my fingers were firmly crossed as the waitress deilivered the first plates, thank goodness for British beef!