I missed my fifth shot in a row. Meg the cocker whined and pulled at her lead. Pigeons were coming from all directions into the line of oaks behind me or straight over the decoys to the front. But could I hit them? Could I heck. The dog tried to jump into my lap and failed, catching me square in what cricket commentators call ‘the box area’.
It was my first outing with a new Beretta, bought out of necessity rather than choice. A break-in had seen my beloved Miroku stolen (though not its fore-end). This new weapon felt heavier at the muzzle; the safety catch and barrel selector were unfamiliar. And whereas my Miroku flopped open when I broke it, this new addition to the armoury needed a strong pair of forearms — not ideal in the confines of a pigeon hide.
Textbook shot
A sixth bird approached. Easy: straight in from
