Gun Safety

(From Spalding Wildfowlers newsletter March 1967 and July 1967)

I have written before about safety. This time I will tell you about a friend of mine, a member of this Association, who was shot twice by the same man!

I belonged, as a sort of honorary member, to a farmers syndicate shoot. One lovely crisp bright November morning (there were about 14 guns that day) seven of us were walking up some roots whilst the others were "lined up". the other side of the hedge at the far end. When we were about 40-50 yards from the hedge there was a bang accompanied almost instantaneously by a purposeful spattering of pellets into the greens. I looked round to see "N" drop his gun and hop around on one foot, holding his other knee up to his chest. It took a day or so in hospital to have a couple of pellets removed from under his kneecap. I forbear to report on the language.

The second occasion, ten years later, took place on the same shoot and in similar circumstances, but this time "N" was only pricked in the neck and hand with a hole or two in his coat for good measure.

The culprit, on each occasion, had fired at a hare disappearing through the hedge, instead of concentrating on the job in hand - pheasant shooting. Unfortunately, the culprit (I would not name him) owned some of the best cover on the shoot so he could not be sacked, but needless to say he was watched very carefully after that.

Nimrod.

At the risk of boring you on this subject, I would like to tell you a little more about the man who was responsible for the various unorthodox thrills we experienced on our shoot.

He was tall, lean and very active for his age, which must have been somewhere in the late 60's. As a wealthy manufacturer, he could well have afforded a gun of the best quality but was quite content with an ancient hammer side by side with Damascus barrels and with a bad attack of the "shakes". This gun he tended with loving care (with sandpaper I fancy) since it shone like polished silver.

One day, between drives, I happened to notice him whittling away at something and being of an enquiring mind I stepped over to see what he was doing and found he was shaving down some Grand Prix (cartridges). He explained that some blood from some partridge in his bag had caused his cartridges to swell and he couldn't get them in his gun!

On another occasion he stopped to perform a most necessary act of nature. Over came a partridge which he downed in the middle of the operation, affording him a double satisfaction. There were also the occasions when he had to carry out running repairs to his gun (or rather demolition I would put it) for the paper thin muzzles would start to unwind and he had to bend the bits from side to side until they broke away.

His habit of carrying his gun horizontally across his body caused me always to seek refuge on his right hand side, but the other members soon "latched on " so at the beginning of each drive there was much jockeying for position with the result that he inevitably found himself on the extreme left.

If the penny was ever dropped he never let on! One wonders how he managed to reach his age unscathed. Some character!

Nimrod.