On a hiding to nothing in pursuit of pigeons

The first of the autumn barley has been harvested and it is time to give serious thought to woodpigeons. I’ve been obsessed with these birds since the tender age of 13 and it’s hard to resist their endless attractions, even as an adult with a list of chores and responsibilities as long as your arm.

There is something magical about the sight of a bird drawn into the decoys, particularly when it folds in its wings and seems to sledge out of the sky on the final approach. Call it humble, modest fare by comparison with grouse or grey partridges, but it gets me every time.

I’m a self-taught pigeon shooter, but almost everything I know was gleaned either from or John Batley’s book, , which I was