The shape of things
Mar 01, 2022
4 minutes
Each year a farmer friend of mine is kind enough to invite me on a driven day towards the end of the season. I look forward to it with great expectation.
Due to lockdowns and work I had hardly been out with a gun for months, and was pleased with a left-and-right at a cock and a hen pheasant on the first drive. My old Browning B125, which I acquired 36 years ago, was still cutting the mustard, but as I got older I found my shooting can be erratic.
I went through a patch around midday where I was missing birds that I shouldn’t have, but regained my form in the afternoon.
Why was
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