My shot of a lifetime
DECEMBER dusk, a young man and his terrier rummaging through thorny scrub at the fingertip of an unkempt wood and the fleeting silhouette of long bill and dark wings against half an ochre sun. A snap shot at best, but the bird folds soft as cotton and tumbles into the shadows as only woodcock do.
Wind the clock forward 40-odd years and I’m deep into the rocky, heathery heart of the far north-west of Scotland, having tramped for hours
