Ding dong merrily on high

The winter is marked by rituals and routines. Some of these are dictated by the sporting calendar, but others are much more personal.

I like to set aside an afternoon to shoot snipe in early September, just as the hills are beginning to fade away from their summer colours. I’m lucky that we always have good numbers of snipe on our hill and I’ve been observing this informal routine for 10 years. It’s become an important moment for me as the seasons begin to change and September wouldn’t feel right without it.

In the same way, the January full moon sends me out to flight woodcock in the gloaming, and that’s another tradition which I simply cannot overlook. I love the frost and the inevitable skirl of vixens in the