Ducks at fearful pace
Most sports — and shooting is certainly no exception — really reflect life. There will be highs and lows and there will be turning points, when one shoot or sphere of shooting will give way to another. Often the shooting never seems as good as it was yesterday. Sometimes this is so, while on very many occasions it is the memory that improves the quality of the sport.
Recently I passed a parcel of land which I used to shoot, 300 acres, and immediately the memories came flooding back. The sport was basically poor to mediocre; yet on those odd occasions, particularly on wild winter days when the ducks flighted strongly, it could be exhilarating. The prospect of such a day always cheered you up after a run
