Shooters

The peace of our morning walk is upset, most days, at this time of year, by the crackle and pop of shotguns.

The stupid pheasants, cossetted all summer, are moved in front of the guns for sport.

It was a miserable morning, vaguely raining, as we walked along one of our few off-road public paths. We were stopped by gunfire in front of us as the line of guns and dogs swept up the fields of beet.