Thursday 7th February 2019 - the year so far.

Kitchen appliances have been busy all winter - the dehydrator for mushrooms and fruit, the mincing machine for pheasant burgers, and the vacuum packer all the time. Picking up on a pheasant shoot twice a week left little time for other sport, but did provide an abundance of game.
Unwarranted restrictions on access to the estuary completely curtailed my wildfowling activities, though I made a point of doing more evening inland flighting as a result. It looks to me as though the insidious attacks by officials of NRW, the RSPB, and others will eventually succeed, as people like myself are discouraged from our once solitary sport by the fear of  conflict and confrontation. I just want to spend the dusk out with dog and gun, and it is easier to just go elsewhere. And, as we get older, it just gets to be too much hassle and hard work. It is sad that these pursuits will not be available to youngsters in the future who, if they have any interest in sport at all, will only know the wholly artificial world of reared pheasants (and, even worse, reared ducks).
Fishing is going the same way, with even lifelong anglers of my age saying that they would never kill a wild trout - or a grayling or sea-trout, (or a bass or mullet or perch or pike or gudgeon ) and interfering officials seeking to ban the taking of fish for the table. What nonsense! When any of these creatures are in abundance - as they very frequently are - then it is perfectly sensible and acceptable to take a harvest, and to be able to justify our sport by doing so.
See - as soon as I starting talking about sport I go off on a rant! I'd better shut up.

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