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Updated: Jan 31, 2022

This is a story from an old Spalding wildfowler recounted in the 1960’s, a time when many wildfowlers loaded their own shotgun shells :

One evening last season I was walking along my local river in hope of a shot at duck. Suddenly, I saw a big cock pheasant walking along the opposite bank about 35 yards away. I quickly dropped down behind a bunch of long grass and quietly called my bitch to heel. It was too good a chance to miss so I ups the old twelve and lets drive., slipping and falling backwards to get the shock of my life. I can just recall seeing out of the corner of my eye two mallard approaching from my right and two partridge rising slightly from my left heading towards the old cock.

I came around after about 10 minutes to find a big bump on the back of my head and the old bitch sitting there looking wet and very pleased with herself. I turned tound to find an old hare lying there stone dead but freshly killed, the only conclusion I could find was I had killed it in my fall. Just then I thought of the old cock and turned forward to see if the old bitch had retrieved it, and found it laid there in a row, two wild duck, two partridges, one cock pheasant, and a trout weighing at 1 stone 3 pounds. Not bad for a cheap old reload. I’ve often wondered since what else I would have got had I been buying new cartridges?

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