what got you in to it ??

[Guest lady hunter]

What or who got you in to the hunting you do now ? And what was your first hunting experience like, thats if some of you can remember that far back

[fr0gman4 0]

My Grandad started me off with the hunting I can always remember him keeping ferrets and having a shed full of nets of all shapes and sizes, fishing rods and bundles of snares hanging up from hooks near the roof. There were usually Rabbits or Pheasants hanging up on a string on the back of the shed door. I had many a clip round the earhole for messing about with stuff from that shed

My first ever time out I must have been about 8 we were ferreting and watching him put the nets down, being told to 'Shush' cos I was asking too many questions and generally being too noisey ( somethings never change ) after we had a couple in the nets he told me the next one to come out was MINE and I better not let it get away well after listening for the bumping and seeing a rabbit hit the net I was on it quick as a flash ( somethings DO change ) and I grabbed it and held onto it for dear life while it tried to kick me.

He said "If you squeeze that rabbit any tighter there'll be thumb prints in the meat!"

I carried MY rabbit all the way home and put it on my own string on the back of the shed door.

From there we went fishing (summer),shooting (he got me my first rifle much to my mums annoyance) ,rabbiting,brambling for berries always outdoors doing something until he became too ill from working down the pit and could hardly walk ten steps in his own home before he had trouble breathing.

He died when I was sixteenand I miss him every time I go out hunting he was to me 'The best hunter EVER!' but then I would say that would'nt I he was MY grandad.

[Stabs 3]

I grew up in a town surrounded by countryside, like a little grim northern oasis plonked in the middle of rolling hills and thick woodland. It was only a walk across the street and I was in fields. If you looked in one direction you'd see the "shops" as the largest local employer was colloquially called and if you looked in the other direction, you'd see nowt but fields, hills and woods. This was our playground and from a very early age, that is where you'd find us kids playing. I look at my own mates and their bairns and it's hard to imagine that at their age we'd be up trees looking for nests, or hoiking newts and toads out of ponds. Kids these days seem to be much more sheltered than we were, and maybe with good reason. If the government don't look after the bairns and lock away the perverts, then I guess it's down to us to look after them that little nit more. I do think it's the kids who lose out in this deal though.

 

The way I started out was exactly the same as thousands of others started out I suppose. I can't remember one thing as being more important than any other, but my earliest memories are of looking in wonderment at my uncle’s egg collections and then going out and starting my own. I can remember my first egg like it was yesterday. It was a song thrushes from the box hedge bordering someone's front garden. That was quickly followed by a wood pigeon from a lowish nest in an Elder incoveniently hanging over a large puddle, that in later stories I called a "pond" and then a blackbird’s egg from a low bush by a track next to the old chapel. I remember poring over my Observers book of Bird’s Eggs for hours with that blackbird’s egg in my hand, trying hard to convince myself that it just might be a Ring Ouzels! Nesting was nothing contentious back then, even the local policeman saw my collection and commented on how well made the box that housed them was. Many a time when out us kids were directed to nests we didn’t even know of by old lads working the fields. Looking back, we did take eggs and yes those eggs could of hatched into beautiful birds and it’s not something I do now. For me it was like a transitional period, some thing you grow out of but listening to the news recently, something that not everyone grows out of. There are still people collecting and one bloke mentioned in an article in The Guardian paper had false bottoms in draws and all manner of ways of keeping his collection hidden from prying eyes. Obviously this is taking things to the extreme and my modest collection began and ended over the space of a few years. What collecting did do for me, was to give me an insight into the world of birds and of nature. It got me out into the fields and gave me an appreciation that has lasted all my life.

 

The next country pursuit I remember from around about the same time was fishing. My godfather gave me an old cork handled 7 foot spinning rod (which I still have) and me and pals used to get away down the local ponds as much as we could. There wasn’t much in the way of fish down there, but you were always guaranteed a perch or two if you knew what you were doing. We’d spend the morning before we went scraping around the cut between the back alleys where we lived, looking for worms or anything really that we could stick on a hook. We used sticks to dig, bits of broken bottles and I remember using a bone handled butter knife I’d nicked from one of my relatives! Once we had what we deemed was enough, off we’d go and see what the craic was. Success wasn’t that easy to come by at first and it wasn’t until one of us got a fishing book for Christmas one year that we eventually came to realise what a plummet was for. Once we cracked that bit, the fish started to come. Years of perch and the occasional flatfish on family holidays to Whitby were nothing when it came to the day that I caught my first pike. I’d moved away from the north and settled in the midlands where the local river had a very deep part caused (allegedly) by a bomb during the Second World War. This deep pool harboured some big pike and you’d occasionally see them just below the surface at the waters edge. It wasn’t one of these monsters that I caught though. I’d gone down to the river with the hope of lifting something (anything!) out and I’d brought my spinners along with me in the hope of catching one of these legendary pike. What I did catch was a tiddler in comparison, a fish of about 7lb but it didn’t half give me a fight! These were the days before kids had cameras, or phones so no photograph exists of this fish or the grin on my face when I eventually landed it, but suffice it to say, the grin on my face must have equalled anything before or since!

 

When the fish weren’t biting, which seemed to be most of the time, there was always other things to keep you occupied such as hand catching bullheads (or Millers Thumbs to give them their proper name) and there was always crayfish to catch in the rocks around the pools away from the fast flowing stream. To quote a phrase often used by someone else, these really were halcyon days!

 

Dogs were always a part of my life as my uncles and cousins had them and a few even worked them. I remember a jack russell that one uncle had which he bought for rabbiting. This little thing was what’s known as a “nasty b*****d†and she’d bite anyone that came too close, although she was sweetness and light with the girls in the family. She didn’t last that long though as she died of a heart attack barking at a copper that had knocked on the door. Another uncle on the other side of the family had terriers too, but his were worked as they were supposed to rather than for rabbits. He’d always have a little dog around him and I remember a belter that was mentioned in EDRD earlier this year, which brought back a lot of memories! I always thought it was bred a particular way, but I was wrong! Who’d have thought it had dachshund in it! Anyway, it did the job it was bred to do and did it well by all accounts. I remember being at a dig with my dad when I was very small and the sights, sounds and smells of that day stuck with me.

 

Me and the "nasty b*****d" russell

 

 

 

A cousin of mine is really got me into dogs in a big way. The uncles mentioned above might have lit the match, but my cousin fanned the flames. I’d sit at family do’s listening to his accounts of recent digs and the dogs he used and I was enthralled! I didn’t realise it then but this was the start of a lifelong love of working dogs. Maybe I would have done better to have got up and gone and sat next to another family member and listened to football stories, but what did I know? I was addicted.

 

I’d had a lurcher for a very short time and didn’t do a lot with her. My dad told me she’d died on a walk but he’d actually given her to my uncle (the digger above) when my old man and my mam split up. My first terrier was a joint ownership affair with my best pal Nick. He was from a rich family and lived on the edge of an orchard which meant that not only did he have room for some kennels, but there was game right on the doorstep too! We made some rather fetching kennels out of entirely inappropriate materials which we ended up bring into the outhouse after the first night of rain. We got ourselves a few dogs which would pass for borders these days although we were not sure of the exact breeding and also those long backed, short legged russells that you don’t see too much of these days. Maybe there is a reason for that. Our quarry was the rabbit and the rat and we took a fair few of these between us. We’d stalk the hedgerows with our shitty little air rifles hoping the terriers would put something up for us although god alone knows what we would do if they did armed only with Airsporters! Some of the best memories of that time were ratting in an abandoned battery chicken farm. This place held everything! Rabbits, foxes, badgers, partridge, pheasant and we even found a few old jazz mags over there! Lol The ALF had closed this place down by the looks of the graffiti on the walls and in doing so, had inadvertently supplied us with a haven for our hunting forays. The muck on the shed floors was deep and in our innocence we tied washing lines to the dogs collars in case they sunk in the shit! We had lots of good times over there and I only wished we had photos. Everyone seems to carry a camera as part of their hunting gear these days, and I’m no exception, but when I look back on photos of my childhood, I haven’t got that many full stop, never mind asking my mam if I could take the family camera ratting!

 

As we got a bit older, we got talking to some of the “bigger boys†and it wasn’t long before we were trying our little rabbity dogs to fox in our attempt to join the big league! Well, it wasn’t to be. Our dogs to a man all did a great impression of the hokey cokey, and that’s the ones that would enter in the first place. The older lads were telling us it didn’t matter, but they were saying it with smiles on their faces, which meant one thing….it did matter.

 

Despite owning a few more terriers over the years, I never did get to own what I would call a good one. Perhaps my standards are too high or perhaps the word “good†has been diluted over the years by being bandied around to dogs that don’t deserve it. I’ve seen some good dogs, but I’ve never had the privilege to call one my own.

 

Bull terriers came and went, as did a mates Beddy/whippet cross (heart murmur) and then the staffords came along at a much later date. I’d left home at this point so I was able to have what I wanted around me rather than them being round a mates house.

 

I can’t imagine ever being without a dog and I just love being out with them, even when I’m just exercising them. Give me an autumn day, kicking through the leaves as the light is just thinking about fading and I’ll be in heaven. I’m still as in love with it now as I was when I was a bairn.

[chartpolski 23,738]

It all started when I was 13, my older brother brought home a racing whippet pup, but as he was 4 years older than me, he soon discovered more interesting things, girls and booze !!! The pup passed to me and I had a fair bit of success racing it. We used to walk home from the local tracks across the feilds and at the time they were teeming with hares and soon the hare coursing meant more than the racing. Later I started lamping, an old car spot lamp and a motor bike battery from the scrap yard. Owned a few more whippets but the racing was in decline and we were more into hunting, so it seemed a natural progression to lurchers. Now, more than 40 years later, I've never been without a running dog, even when I was living in the Middle East, I had a Saluki. As soon as I came home for good and got settled in, I bought a lurcher pup, she is well into her first seasons working, and I am as keen as ever !! I'm lucky in that I've retired and have the time and the means to do everything I want; hunt, shoot, fish and of course, work the dogs.

Cheers.

Edited December 28, 2006 by chartpolski

[Guest Ditch_Shitter]

Born like it ~ as, I imagine, the vastest majority of us were.

 

Put simply; Animals always fasinated me. I liked to study them and what better way to observe a creature than to catch it.

 

At four years old a mouse in the hall way startled my mum. I bought a mouse trap with my next pocket money. Simply never stopped.

[Guest JOEB]

Mine sort of started very young.......being born and bred in darkest South London, when I was about 5 my dad purchased a little smallholding (9 acres) on the outskirts of Sandwhich in Kent....it was real "Darling Buds of May" stuff down there in those days.We lived in two forty foot trailers bolted together and the place had an orchard.

My old pop and I would catch rabbit to eat and we needed to control fox to protect our other livestock.

Had my first go on a 12 bore as a little lad, seem to remeber it put me on my arse in true comedy fashion.

The smell of hops growing seemed to allways be in the air and as I type this, memorys of long lazy summer days and evenings come flooding back......all this planted a seed deep in me that grew in to a love of wild things & places....(and a bit of a perverse loathing of most things modern and citys in general )

 

Same as Stabs, I started with small russel types and had some great fun sorting out rats that seem to populate farms with poultry.

Due to circumstances, after a few years we found ourself back in South London, which was a real shock to my young system.......and allthough I still had my dogs, that country life was gone

 

And that was it as far as any hunting went for a very long time, dogs were allways around, but my beloved fields and hedgerows were a distant memory.

When I was 11 my old dad passed away, and my mum and I moved back to the place of her birth in Essex, a small nondescript town, but surrounded by nice pockets of countryside.

I met a few lads who went fishing, and this gave birth to my other great love......allso met some lads who did a bit of ferreting and had the occasional trip with them.

Fished very hard, for the next 20 odd years untill one day I woke up and found that my great love (carp fishing) had become a whore for every messer in the land to have a dabble at and the stars and money men to use as a tool to line there pockets ...........so much bullshit that I couldnt take any more...

At this time I had my own house and space for a dog again ......and as I ventured back into the world of dogs and hunting I met some good blokes, my type of blokes, who know bullshit when they see it and dont have time for messers........who have principles, who wont whore there sport or dogs for any amount of money....I can relate to that big time.....

And so, here I am................and loving every second

J

[Stabs 3]

.We lived in two forty foot trailers bolted together

 

I bloody knew it!!!!

As soon as you turned up in that big white van to get those nets........

 

bloody p***y

[Guest JOEB]

.We lived in two forty foot trailers bolted together

 

I bloody knew it!!!!

As soon as you turned up in that big white van to get those nets........

 

bloody p***y

 

I am doing very good rates on Tarmac drives this time of year mate :whistle: ........guaranteed to by only 5mm thick and start peeling up as I drive out the end of the road with my family

Want a quote :whistle: ?

J

[beagles 0]

blackpack took me one day and been doin it since cheers blackpack

[COMPO 54]

grew up with an uncle (my favourite uncle ) who had lurchers,terriers and ferrets, he took me out to show me badgers with a lamp, he bolted foxes with his terriers for me to watch running. He ran hares with his lurchers which enthralled me, he introduced me to ferrets when very young.

 

When i was 13 i moved to a farm(my mam's second husband worked on the farm), began hunting with two old boys who came up to do the rabbiting (one used to live near us before we moved to the farm), who gave me a lurcher and ferrets, between the two old fella's and my uncle i gathered ferrets,nets,air rifle's and the lurcher......my brother was given a JRT by one of the old boys, we were set

 

always had ferrets since, and various dogs and guns as well

 

suppose i was always interested, just the opportunity and keen older mentors helped, two of my mentors are still hard at it, my uncle has a few ferrets and a bull/grey, and the old boy that gave me my lurcher has ferrets and a lurcher still (well he did when i last heard of him)

[Guest oneredtrim]

.

Edited January 16, 2008 by oneredtrim

[Guest The Shaman]

My halycon days were about 30 odd years ago. My dad was a bricky and went wherever the work was, sometimes Germany, sometimes Saudi but usually for 6 months at a time. I along with my sister would be bundled off to my Nanna and Grandads - it's about a mile from my house now, but believe me a world away.

 

Grandad kept bee's and chickens, grew everything on his allotment, made wine took me for walks, newting, nesting - or just a walk for the sheer pleasure of it. Gave me my first penknife, made my first catapult.

 

For many years he was my father figure while my dad tried to earn a living. Then Nanna died and he moved to a bungalow in the middle of town, Alzheimers set in, my world started to crumble I haven't even a photo of him - just memories, it seems all my memories of him were balmy summer days, bees and cheese and pickle sandwiches.

 

I grew up, joined the Army, served Queen and country, came out, got married, three kids later and a mortgage I can't afford I wish I could walk through a magic door and be right back there.

 

Though I was never taught to shoot by Grandad, sometimes mooching about in the woods, especially on a summers evening, even though I sometimes don't get anything is as near as I will ever get to those days.

[Stabs 3]

THIS IS WERE I FIRST INTRODUCED TO PANACILTY

 

:thumbs-up:

[stubby 175]

grew up as a townie, but had a grandad that was a top gardener/carpenter and budgerigar breeder, he taught me to have a love of gardening, a jack of all trades, I was always good at building hutches and aviarys, and of course birds, after he died we moved to rural hainault, but at that age I missed me mates and town, so went back to live with me nan, of course living with a nan who thought the sun shone out my arse meant I could have any pet I wanted, so the budgies made way for ferrets and after seeing "KES" the kestrels came along, luckerly we had a large amount of waste land/graveyard and golf course just up the road and this became my countryside, like most kids at that time, got into air rifles, could carry them around back then and shoot anything that moved,

getting married early in life(shotgun wedding,lol) I continued in my bird keeping/dogs etc until some 20yrs later when I saw the light and divorced her....

a few job changes later I met a yorkshire lass and we clicked, so deciede on another job change and took a wage cut to become a pest controller, never looked back, get to shoot things and get paid

got myself some permission to shoot on a farm next to a railway we were doing rabbit control on, so the next step was to get some ferts again,

have just got all the bits and peices back together, locator/nets etc and am looking forward to getting over the farm, would love to get a lurcher, but make do with my other half's j/russel till then, and fingers crossed, should be moving back into essex within a month or two

[J Darcy 5,871]

brilliant stories guys.....