All We Need Now Are The Ducks

 

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Flightponds are terribly personal things and while “mine” actually belong to someone else, a sense of custodianship has rapidly grown within me for these special places. Both ponds belong to a close friend, Nigel Parris, a local dairy farmer whose family have helped to shape the local landscape since parish records began, or so it seems.

A few years ago Nigel was kind enough to invite me to his annual walkabout shoot — a proper rough day just after Christmas, children in tow, big hills, slippery slopes, a handful of pheasants and a few ducks flushed from a pond in the wilds of east Devon. After this excellent example of having fun while shooting almost nothing, a fantastic lunch of lasagne and roast potatoes was served — a hitherto unknown combination but one I was delighted to make the acquaintance of. I asked Nigel if he ever flighted the ponds. His negative response set me on a mission to begin doing so and a plan was hatched.

The idea was simple: I would organise some wheat and feed the ponds, and organise the odd flight with Nigel. A dubious acquiescence was coaxed from Nigel and off I went to start the feeding.