Shooting Times & Country Magazine
A CLASSIC SERIES REVISITED
While making the most of an autumn evening’s wildfowling, Gethin Jones encounters a rather unexpected vulpine visitor
In his book Tales of a Wildfowler, Arthur Cadman relates the story of a flight made long ago under the moon in the hills of Wales when he managed to shoot both a fox and a goose. He doesn’t specify the species, but mentions that both pinkfeet and common whitefronts (Greenland whitefronts, when they were legal quarry) were feeding in the area. Reading the passage brought to mind one of my recent wildfowling adventures.
It was a blustery September Saturday, so I decided to try a flight on a nearby foreshore where I’d have a chance of a shot at ducks, or the Canada geese that frequented the foreshore at that time of the season. The strong wind meant that fowl should be moving and be at a reasonable height. However, on arrival, the wind had died to nothing. I decided to head on to the foreshore regardless.
Navigation aid
I made my way across the sands toward the main channel, just over a mile away. I knew geese used the channel as a navigation aid at dusk, as did parties of mallard. In daylight, with zero cover, I’d have no chance of a shot, but as it got darker, the odds would tip in my favour. Halfway out, I saw fresh fox footprints. In a change of plan, I sat by a clump of marsh grass around 30 yards from the prints. If there were no wildfowl, I might have a chance, albeit very slim, of seeing a fox.
The only bird that came within range was a teal, which flew from behind, nearly knocking my hat off as it sped on its way. The light faded, and I saw no more wildfowl. I was just about to pack up when I spotted a movement out of the corner of my eye. Squinting at the ground 40 yards away, I made out a shadowy figure. It seemed to move, pause and then move again, but I couldn’t make out its shape. It was quartering from left to right and coming closer. I decided to get a bead on this mysterious shape and, as I mounted my gun, the stock brushed against a goose call that was hanging on a lanyard.
The sound made the shadow freeze. I could now see a silhouette, complete with two pointed ears. A fox. I steadied my aim and fired. The boom echoed around the hills, and the shadow vanished as though it had never existed. I unloaded and ran towards the spot. There on the sand lay a big dog fox, stone dead. Had he appeared five minutes later, I wouldn’t have seen him at all and he’d have passed me by.
It was now dark, so I decided to head for home. On my way, I heard the distant calls of Canadas. Walking further, the calls became louder. I unzipped my gun slip in record time, shoved a couple of 3in bismuth BBS in the chambers and looked up towards the clamour of calls, but could see nothing. Suddenly, a skein of 20 Canadas appeared in the night sky in front of me. I selected a single goose, mounted my gun, swung through the bird and fired into the blackness. At the sound of the shot, the skein honked in panic before vanishing into the darkness from which they’d appeared.
A split second later, I heard the unmistakable rushing sound of a goose falling through the air, followed by a resounding thump. I made my way to where I’d heard it fall to see a big Canada goose laying dead on its back. Picking up its great weight, I tucked its head and neck under one wing and slid it into my gamebag before heading towards the car.
“If there were no wildfowl, I might have a chance, albeit slim, of seeing a fox”
Gethin Jones is a keen wildfowler and rough shooter. He joined BASC (then WAGBI) at the age of 16, the day after he shot his first mallard.