Whiffle down the wind

Moving house is tedious, time-consuming and expensive. But it’s amazing what you find while clearing out the old place. Among game cards, wildfowling permits and diary entries I found a fading photo of two grubby-looking boys in waxed jackets and waders. Their faces are wreathed in smiles and they grasp proudly the spoils of an outing. On the back of the photo are the words: “First teal! With George (first greylag!)”

That photo was taken 30 years ago. The frozen fingers, the muddy barrels of my precious 16-bore, the dense fog and above all the rapture of accounting for three teal — yes, three! — are still vivid. The birds had seemed to skim and whistle and buzz like bullets in that November dawn.

“Then they were suddenly tumbling, whiffl ing into the decoys on a sibilance of wings”