Gone with the wind

A new permission has great potential but Tom Payne’s plans are scuppered when the pigeon choose shelter over sustenance

It was a Thursday evening and as I pottered around my pigeon shed oiling bits of kit, sorting out nets and testing a new flapper, I felt a sense of boyish excitement running through me. I was going camping. The freedom from lockdown. The independence from others. But most excitingly, I was going to be shooting pigeon on a new permission.

As the jackdaws floated back to roost over the shed and the local pigeon population cooed as they enjoyed that last bit of evening sunshine, I shoved the final bit of pigeon hide into the boot of the car and celebrated with a cold beer.

Now, with the rules and regulations around COVID-19 being relaxed slightly, I could turn my attention to farms further afield. However, in a normal year, I would usually stay with friends or in a pub. With neither option available, I had decided to embrace the British wilderness with a tent, sleeping bag, stove, kettle and some baked beans.

I woke the next morning, doublechecked everything and then set off with anticipation towards the

Lincolnshire Fens. My plan was to get there, meet Stephen, the farmer, and get my bearings with regards to the ground. I would then spend the afternoon on reconnaissance with the aim to shoot on the Saturday.

Peas were top of my list; however, this part of Lincolnshire is a big vegetable-growing area, so there are many other crop options that could produce a worthwhile shoot.

Serious wind

The weather earlier in the week was showing 15mph to 20mph winds

was beginning to wane. Not because the pigeon numbers were poor but because birds simply won’t move in such a strong wind over flat ground. Actually, it is not so much won’t move but can’t move, as they constantly lose control in flight.

There were three fields that had been left fallow with all sorts of volunteer crops coming through. During the last couple of feeding hours of the day there were a good 250 to 300 birds desperately trying to feed in the conditions. There was a perfectly placed single bush in the middle — an ideal spot but, as I walked out to look, I realised the chances of me getting a hide to stay up in the strong winds were slim. The birds were trying to make it over a 40-hectare, two-weekold pea drilling to a small coppice and then filtering out of the coppice to feed on the fallow fields.

Being truthful, I was in two minds about what to do. Should I risk the bush, knowing full well it could be a nightmare with the hide, or try to get out of the wind and shoot off the front of the coppice, advance decoying them on to the pea drill? I would see what the morning would bring. That’s if I survived the night, of course.

Kite surfer

Off I went to set up camp. Using the same coppice as wind shelter, I started to make a base. It took me five minutes before I decided that the tent idea was a non-runner as I looked more like a kite surfer being dragged across a field in the wind. Using my Land Rover as extra protection against the wind, I decided to sleep out in the open.

“Driving around, the soil dust coming off the fields was incredible. It almost made them look as if they were on fire”

After a hearty meal of Country Food Trust pheasant casserole and a few Danish pastries from the local garage, my thoughts turned to sleeping. Sitting on my Idleback chair, gun safely locked away in the strong box, I pondered on when I should hit the sack. A few cans of lager later, I felt I was ready to close my eyes and put myself at the mercy of Lincolnshire’s wildlife. I actually slept very well.

I had a minor altercation with a local badger, but I showed him who was boss with some nifty footwork as he scuttled off back to the coppice, tail between his legs.

In the morning I sat quietly drinking my tea, watching the end of the coppice. The wind had dropped right back but was expected to pick up again in the afternoon. Birds were moving really early and superbly floating across on the exact line where I was hoping to shoot. I kept thinking, I should really be shooting, but I was waiting for Ross Cutteridge, a local farmer who kindly arranged all the new permissions and was joining me for the day. I knew deep down that the birds were moving early because of the conditions, but stupidly didn’t get on with it.

Ross arrived and we set up for about 12 noon after watching the pigeon for a couple of hours. We had a basic double net hide tucked in and sitting flush to the coppice; a magnet 80 yards to my right to start — but as the wind picked up it was all over the place — and a few dead birds and the new flapper in front of us. I was trying to decoy them simply to get them into shot and focus the line. I call it “advance decoying” because you are decoying the field they want to feed in.

As we settled into the hide, a bird coming off our back at about 70mph overflew the decoys and slammed on the brakes as it turned back into the wind. I missed it with the first barrel and killed it with the second. Not a brilliant start but a start nonetheless.

I had to get out and move the magnet out to my right and try to get it out of the wind before it took off. Birds were trying to move, approaching low and battling hard to get across the field. Some came just within shot then gave up, turned a wing and headed back to the shelter of the hedge. This became a bit of a theme.

Shelter

Birds struggled to get under the wind and across to feed and then just giving up or not quite making it within shot. The birds were not making evasive action as if to suggest being decoy-shy. They were very gently turning their wings and heading back to shelter.

As one bird after another tried to get across the field, the odd one would make it. They were not easy to pick out against the drill and dust. Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a glimmer of white neck bars as Ross stood and felled the sneaky arrival. We were not shooting many, but those we were shooting were very challenging as they turned and twisted low to the ground, desperately trying not to lose control. Very grouse-like and brilliant shooting.

A couple of hours in and we had a visitor in the shape of Georgie Fenn, marketing manager of Schöffel Country and a long-standing friend of Ross. Georgie’s family farm not far from where we were shooting. A few minor adjustments to the distancing in the hide and we were away again. Georgie very kindly brought a bottle of wine and some really good sausage rolls, none of which lasted long. While we had the odd few shots, I knew the day was lost. However, the laugh we had in the hide overpowered that disappointing feeling and lockdown stories started flowing. I’m very much one for leaving on a good note and a long, low crosser I had seen coming from a distance battled and battled and provided me with a lovely shot.

Even at such a low level of flight and dead-on impact, the wind carried the bird back a good 20 yards.

“Birds were moving really early and floating across on the exact line where I was hoping to shoot”