We’ll still be at it but it might be different

As the first birds heaved themselves out of the cover, it rapidly dawned that what we were about to witness would be as close to a slaughter as you’ll see in an East Anglian field. Plump pheasants desperately climbed into the sky, but it was no use. We were right there, in a semi-circle, and it is no exaggeration to say it would have been harder to miss these birds than hit them. And hit them we did, in their droves, to the point where the landowner — from whom my friends and I had bought this day — came over and said with some glee that we were finally on track to hit our ‘numbers’ for the day.

Pause for thought

It was a telling sentence, not just because it suggested none of us could shoot, but also because it gave me pause for thought when it came to driven shooting that I hadn’t necessarily