Truly great Shots are truly respectful

Recently challenged by a reader for a lack of respect for his quarry, Simon Garnham reflects on the evolution of sporting behaviour

Shoot briefs can go on too long. But a particularly memorable one was limited to this, “Safe and sporting, please. Safe and sporting.” It seemed to summarise the essence of what it means to be a good Gun.

To be accused of unsafe or unsporting behaviour is about as damning as it gets. The concept of unsafe has changed very little since gunpowder was invented but I was interested to consider recently, when challenged by a reader, how the concept of ‘unsporting’ evolves.

In most dictionary definitions, sporting behaviour means to be fair and respectful. For us as shooters, this tends to pertain to fellow Guns and the collected field.

And, just as importantly, it applies to our attitude to our quarry. So deliberately taking another’s bird might be unsporting. And to be dismissive of the flora and fauna around us might equally be wrong in the eyes of a true sportsperson.

English idiom has plenty of examples from other sports and from our own. ‘Just not cricket’ might imply a lack of sporting conduct. And from our own world, ‘shooting a sitting

“Sporting behaviour means to be fair and respectful”

duck’, ‘fish in a barrel’, a ‘turkey shoot’ and ‘fair game’ all have connotations of fair or unfair, sporting or unsporting behaviour.

Changing attitudes

Does this change? Does it evolve? Is it clear? A phrase I’d used to describe rabbit shooting as ‘bunny bashing’, (Shooting Times, 13

July) was questioned by a reader, wondering whether it betrayed a “lack of respect for live quarry”. This was a common term in the 1980s and 90s. Rabbits were a pest — vermin. They needed ‘bashing’.

As their numbers diminish, the reader asked, is this really how we see them? Does a true sportsperson dismiss their quarry like this? I confess he was right; I don’t any longer. I am glad to see rabbits clinging on against myxomatosis and rabbit haemorrhagic disease virus. I still enjoy shooting rabbits and I relish eating them. But my attitude towards them has changed since the 1980s and the reader was right to suggest that my language needed to change. It was no longer the language of a sportsperson.

In its 140 years, part of ST’S considerable success has been as a medium in which the arguments and evolution of what is sporting and unsporting can be discussed. Some of these can get heated but as the late, great John Humphreys wrote in these very pages, “it’s the sizzle that sells the sausage”.

When the magazine was founded, the giants of Victorian shooting such as Lieutenant Colonel Peter Hawker felt able to criticise “butterfly shooters” in one breath yet boasted of shooting a swallow and a wild goose in the same day. He writes of detesting the “shore popping rabble” but then explains that he has tested his newly stocked duck gun to “knock down in seven shots, 6 bats and 1 moth”. Attitudes to quarry (and non-quarry species) have changed.

Only last year, I was reported to Essex Police and to Defra by Wild Justice for an article in which I spun a lockdown yarn of the time I shot 10 different species (legally) in one day. I am not for one minute implying that we should be able to shoot what we want, just for fun. But it is interesting to note how

things have changed in the magazine’s lifetime. What was acceptable to Victorians will not be now.

Sir Ralph Payne-gallwey in his 1895 Volume 1 Letters to Young Shooters criticises “cruel and wasteful shots too far”. He was aware of sporting and unsporting behaviour and criticisms such as taking shots that are beyond the range of the weapon or the ability of the Gun still stand. However, he ranks Guns who count the game they have “killed in a day’s sport and let others know of their success” as equally unsporting and boastful.

We’re probably all in favour of modesty but keeping a tally of what needs picking and then thanking a host for some excellent sport with enthusiastic detail seems reasonable. In fact the great man doesn’t entirely follow his own advice; he is not exactly shy in letting readers know of the bumper days he has managed, including the night he shot 36 wild ducks in less than 20 minutes while shoulder gunning and of the significant bags he managed on the marshes while punt-gunning.

Today, by contrast, punt-gunners are reticent to discuss their sport. They avoid describing their numerous blank outings, the hardship and the fieldcraft, for fear of a baying mob trying to end the tradition and not because it might be seen as boasting. The need for the fresh, local, sustainable, inexpensive food that punt-gunning can provide is nearly as great as it was during Victorian times. Maybe we need to be more ready to boast of it, not less.

The debate about ethical and unethical pursuits also goes back to the Georgian era. In his 1788 Natural History of Selborne, Gilbert White describes shooting a cuckoo and obtaining all manner of exotic birds to study in the name of science. An age of exploration and scientific discovery

“Obtaining all manner of birds in the name of science”

made this acceptable — sporting even. He criticised hunters who “affected to call themselves hunters just to be possessed of manhood” and “unreasonably killed 20 and sometimes 30 brace” of partridges in a day. For him, it was the numbers that were offensive, not the variety of species. Shooting storks, house martins, egrets and bee-eaters in the name of science was fine, just not too many.

What is now deemed sporting and unsporting lies in a grey area. ‘Blooding’ a new member of a hunting field, while traditional, was not a tradition I found especially attractive before hunting was banned. The thrill of the chase and control of damaging species are relatively easy to explain but what appears to be gratuitous is, to my mind, unsporting behaviour.

Simulated enjoyment

At a simulated game day — a relatively new shooting occasion and one which seems to be increasingly popular — it was clear that a lot of the enjoyment came from shooting other people’s clays. Will this transfer to game days? I hope not. Fun? Yes. Encouraging sporting behaviour? Possibly not.

As a guest on a more traditional shoot I discovered the hard way just how fine the margins between sporting and unsporting can be. A hen pheasant flicked out of a wood at the end of the last drive. My host had striven to provide a superb day for us but I knew he was disappointed at the bag. The bird headed down the hill, bound for my direction.

At 40 yards out and 10 yards up, I felt it to be a sporting shot and I squeezed the trigger; I missed. Or rather the bird flinched, enough to suggest that I’d pricked it. I certainly couldn’t leave it if it was injured. I gave it a second barrel. Only this time it was about five yards out and five yards up.

The cloud of feathers hung in the air for an age. ‘A terribly unsporting shot’ seemed to be the general consensus. Indeed it wasn’t my finest. I argued without success that to leave an injured bird would be more unsporting but no one seemed willing to confirm that the bird was pricked. The ribbing seemed to subside when I made sure everyone knew I’d eat it. Being accused of unsporting behaviour, however light-hearted, ought to sting and it did. Eating what we shoot is always a strong defence.

Respect for quarry is a fundamental sporting principle for our magazine, even in a changing world. “The wildlife of today is not ours to dispose of as we please. We have it in trust. We must account for it to those who come after.” Some attitudes to sporting and unsporting behaviour will alter. But in 140 years this one will still remain.

Gilbert White, in the early 19th century, bags was perhaps the first critic of big Duck shooters often needed birds for market and being sporting didn’t matter There are few things quite as sporting as snipe shooting

Low birds were common practice in sporting days gone by, whereas today we prefer higher birds

Things were different in the Duke of York’s day, pictured in 1922