In the teeth of the storm
Gale-force winds can supercharge rain like claymore mines firing. They assault your face and find every way to knife at your body. They break branches for fun and send the estuary into a vortex of angry spray and lather. Forecasters advise staying indoors. But, in February, to a sportsman such winds bring the same joy that an early school closure does to a schoolboy.
One such February day occurred. Tess and I set out into the teeth of the storm. On my little piece of East Anglian coast, wigeon are still considering their next mammoth journey. There are pintail too. And teal zip around in packs.
“I rarely shoot this precious piece of saltmarsh, but today was going to be an exception and I looked forward to returning for evening flight”
The lure of the marsh proved too great. I decided on three phases: a walk out at
