I’d promised myself a tide flight on the foreshore on Saturday evening, after I’d been tramping the fields and marshes with Chester and a couple of shooting friends for two walked-up days. Both had been perfect with cold, frosty mornings, uninterrupted sunshine and spectacular views of the snow-covered hills and mountains of Eryri.
We finished early on the second day because my companions were heading to Scotland for another two days of walked-up shooting and goose flighting. Lucky them. It was to be a brief busman’s break for Chester and me on the foreshore before heading home for supper and a bath. We said our goodbyes and my friends set off on their journey north, while Chester and I headed for a foreshore a few miles along the coast.
The recent cold snap meant that wildfowl would congregate on the unfrozen coastal waters of the estuary. The weatherman had
