I broke from my reverie and cast Prince into the cover. He did so with a look of dis- taste on his honest features that I had to chuckle at, for his type of setter was king of the wide open spaces, and he didn't like the cover. He disappeared and after a little while I heard a curious yelp from him and a crashing noise deep inside the cover and a big fox burst through the white grass at the edge .I had the gun on him and was gently squeezing the trigger when Prince hove into view a few yards behind him. I dropped my weapon and watched as he picked up speed, the brush horizontal be- hind him. When the shot became safe I judged him to be too far for my 32 gramme six, and any way he provided quite a spectacle, orange red against the frosty countryside.
Our ramble continued, punctuated by the lowing of hungry cattle who took exception to Prince invading their turf. I sat finally on a rock, and the old setter insinuated him- self between my legs, as I fondled his silky ears. He swallowed the square of chocolate I gave him in a chew less gulp and stared up at me with that unconditional love and loy- alty that only a dog can give.
My snapshot at a pigeon that sprung from the high trees with an airburst of wings brought Tom to the door of his simple country cottage. He welcomed me and ush- ered us inside where the flames of the open fire roared up the chimney. A short few years later I would stand in that same kitchen and pray at his cancer ravaged re- mains, but this Christmas Eve he was in great form and he pressed all sorts of re- freshments on me, and we chatted happily as the setter snored in the glow from the coals. Finally as the shadows length- ened I shook myself and Tom saw us to the
door with his final advice" Do my garden of spuds on your way home, theres a cock pickin there". I shook his hand, handed him the duck which would join his chicken in the oven for Christmas dinner, and set off.
I saw him midway down the ridge of pota- toes, a fine bird, which immediately slunk into the undergrowth as he heard us. The setter froze in mid stride with that look of intense concentration on his face. I walked quickly taking a circle to cut off the wily old birds escape and watched as the setter crept steadily to a patch of dead grass and nettles between us. Finally the dog froze, nostrils flaring, on the other side of the cover. It was the eye I saw first, the yellow eye flickering between me and the dog. Then I picked out the red wattle and the coal black head. We stood frozen in time for what seemed like an eternity. Maybe it was the spirit of the day that was in it, or the peace I felt inwardly, but I broke open the top lever and clicked my tongue. The old dog broke set and with a crow that ech- oed in the still air the old cock launched himself into flight .I watched as he climbed ,the long tail streaming behind him ,climbing into the dusk where the stars were twinkling out like tiny candles.
Merry Christmas, Mr Pheasant, I breathed, as Prince gazed at me in surprise. Across the valley, frost was dropping again, lights were twinkling on and the hoarse bark of a fox could be heard. I patted the disap- pointed dog, shouldered my gun and set off towards where the lights twinkled the brightest.
I Shoot and Fish E-Zine December 2011
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