The first beating

The beginning of the shooting season came round suddenly after what seemed like months of waiting. "9 O'Clock sharp" was the Keeper's instruction for meeting. Keen as mustard I was there - minus the bestest gundog in all the world on this first occasion - a good 5 minutes early but there were others already donning waterproofs and exchanging muffled morning pleasantries and banter in the mist.

It being the first day of this particular shoot's season, there was plenty of catching up to do. Just as well really then that we were not 'off' much before 10 am. Sixteen good men and true, 2 females and 8 assorted spaniels and labradors clambered up the steps into the beater-bus and off we went to the first drive. Bacon butties were offered round as our trusty tractor towed us up to the appointed place. It wasn't far but by the time we'd decanted from the wagon the mist was clearing and the sun steaming the dew off the grass.

Given our instructions we all lined up and - with sticks and flags 'beating' the air and undergrowth - walked our way up hill and down dyke, through maize and kale driving the partridge in the general direction of the 'guns'. Who duly fired a few volleys. When the keeper blew his horn, we all found our way back to the beater-bus, waited for the 'pickers' to collect the birds and for the guns to finish their refreshments (!) - more banter and tales exchanged - and then off to the next drive. And so the day progressed. It became warmer and warmer; jackets, jerseys, waterproofs all soon discarded in the wagon.... dogs gratefully lapping up copious quantities of water and slobbering over everything! Lunch was taken al fresco - all us of stretched out on the grass in the sunshine, resting weary legs and watching four buzzards circling ever higher above us, whilst yet more tales were told and 'catching up' done. One of the 'guns' sent over a crate of cool lager - gratefully received by some - and a 'wife' sent round some high energy cake which was even more gratefully received by others..... And soon we were off again. More walking, climbing, beating, bantering, perspiring.......

And then suddenly it was over. Back to the yard, count the birds, dole out the kitty to the winning guess (£1 per beater at the beginning of the day to guess the number of birds bagged), a few pennies to everyone for their labours and off home, some via pubs and chip shops, with cheery shouts of "same time next week".

Who would want to miss it?

"You'll bring the dog then? Next time?" said the keeper

You bet....