The Formula 1 of driven shooting

Panic set in as I approached my coordinates. Smoke billowed across the road in front of me, and I prayed it was not from the new Aston Martin DBX that was on loan to gamekeeper and Shooting Times vehicle reviewer Ed Coles, the man I was coming to see. Instead, I arrived at the charred remains of the local pub, which had caught fire the night before. Pleased to discover that nobody was injured, I set about my detour along the rutted country lanes to take up Ed’s shoot invitation.

At our meeting point, the rerouted Guns were accounted for and our driven day could begin. We wandered into position for the first drive, Hay Field, eagerly anticipating what was to be the final syndicate day of the year. Pheasants rustled nervously as the crack of flags began to carry through the woodland.

Numerous cock pheasants exploded from cover, rising into the crisp