Some like it rough
a pair of stiff over-and-unders, their rattrap breeches waiting to catch my fingers, added to the prospect of an impatient gun getting in a grump when the lower cartridge case fails to eject cleanly, spoiling their rhythm. At the end of the day, stripping down and cleaning an over-and-under as opposed to a side-by-side is like comparing the finest burlesque dancer to a tribute Gypsy Rose Lee act at the Clinton Arms in Trent Bridge.
I can’t see ‘ups and downs’ ever replacing the revered ‘right and left’ at woodcock or being chalked up on the board in the smoking room at Holkham after a battue at Scarborough Clump—past Lord Leicesters would be revolving in their graves.
The only over-and-under that comes anywhere near the finesse and balance of a sideby-side is the Mckay Brown round-action over-and-under, which combines early Boss and Woodward technology with a Dickson round action. Despite this, however, I firmly believe over-and-unders should stay on clay grounds along with baseball caps. Simon Lester
LAST winter, I found myself engulfed by a savage sleet storm halfway up a mountain in Scotland. ‘I’d rather be here than potting driven pheasants in Hampshire,’ grinned my sodden companion, as his dog retrieved the second woodcock of the day in a howling gale. Me, too.
The best rough shoots demand sharp reactions, extreme hardiness and an intimate knowledge of your quarry and the wild landscape it inhabits. Some grand shoots no longer allow your canine best friend to join the party, but the opposite applies to outside days—if you own a good working dog and are unafraid of wading through waisthigh briars that others fear to trample, the invites will pour in like widgeon under a full moon.
Deprived of fattening corn, the truculent pheasant is rarely tempted to explore such unforgiving lands. Instead, expect rabbits, snipe, woodcock and wildfowl. If you’re lucky, wily cock grouse, English partridge and
Adrian Dangar