If you cannot enjoy a blank flight, you should not go wildfowling, especially in early September before the bulk of the migrants have arrived. It’s not so long ago that I failed to get a shot until the fifth trip of the season, so my hopes were not that high on 8 September in southwest Wales; my first trip this season.
My mate Mad Tom and I spied from a vantage point in the village, and were encouraged to see six teal lift from the marsh edge and fly 100 yards or so before pitching into a creek. With luck they were joining some others, but whatever, there were some ducks about. Our plan was to sit on a stony spit that juts out to the marsh front and watch what happened over the last hour of the flood. This
