Tania Coxon

RESSED in bright neon-orange wellies, light-blue jeans and an oversized tweed coat that my parents were convinced I would eventually grow into, I shot my first pheasant with a single barrel .410 at just 12 years old. With the sound of my loved ones cheering fanatically, to this day, I can still remember the incredible feeling that came over me. Since then, shooting has become a huge part of my life and my fascination for