weather

[sue 1]

watching vicar of dibbley and they are talking about the great storm ,flood,snow .what was your worst weather conditions while out hunting

[SportingShooter 0]

Out Duck flighting last year, started getting dark slowly then it went pitch black within a minute. Next thing we had thunderdrops, along with ferocious thunder, no duck would be flying now.

Lightning came down in the field behind us, so we though best to leave now! We sat in the car out on the roadside just outside the farm gates and watched the display of fork lightning, just spectacular.

No duck for us though.

Regards

SS

[pegleg 0]

I HAVE HUNTED IN FROZEN AND WINDBLOWN CONDITIONS AT 12000 FT. AND 11O DEGREES F IN THE DESERT AND HAVE TO SAY THAT I'LL TAKE THE COLD MOST ALWAYS. A FIRE AND PROPER CLOTHES ARE EASIER TO ADJUST. A GUY CAN'T DRAG A COOLER AROUND WITH HIM. COURSE I'VE ALWAYS BEEN MORE TOLERANT OF COLD THEN HEAT ANY WAY. I DON'T REALLY ENJOY A HEAVY COLD DOWN POUR EITHER BUT IT'S STILL BETTER IN MY MIND.

[Guest Ditch_Shitter]

While out? Anyone ever raises that question, the one and only time that ever seems to spring to mind for me was That Time I went out with Chris L.

 

Chris had some bloody big old moterbike and it had a proper, old fashioned side car attatched. Now, I'm scared to death of motor bikes and wouldn't get on the back of one for love or money. But the idea of that side car, oddly, rather appealed to me.

 

It was a gloriously lovely day so, when the subject of me giving Chris a day out, ferreting, on my permission was raised, I simply said; " F*ck it. Why not? Let me just box a few up and we'll give it a go now. ". And that's how we came to treat the public to the somewhat bemusing sight of a big, bearded Biker roaring down the road with what must have appeared horribly like a skinny, naked man grinning away in his side car! It was, in fact, Such a beautiful day that I'd took my shirt off to feel the warm air rush against my bod'.

 

Onwards we went then. Happily roaring out of town and off into the surrounding countryside. Finally decamping in a gateway and starting the long but pleasent trek across a wide open, north facing down the view from which ammounted to england for as far as the eye could see.

 

After some time of walking, we reached the occupied burys, netted up. Moved back to survey the scene and ensure we'd got all the couple of dozen or so holes covered. Then we sat back on our heels and had a crafty smoke before bringing the ferrets out and bidding the show begin. Blissfully contented as we listened to the Yellowhammers incessent song. Bit of midsummer pest control at it's best

 

Then I idly rubbed at my shoulder. Then involantarily arched my back as something gently tingled its way down my spine. I felt a light tap on the head. I glanced at Chris and saw him looking back at me, the grin now somewhat frozen and pained looking upon his face. I looked skyward, and blinked ..... And that's when she let us f*cking have it! The heavens absolutely opened and dumped an ocean on us! Chris dissapeared in a blink, behind a vertical curtain of silvery gray. I screamed to him, only to catch the muted, hidden sound of his own screaming in reply.

 

Bent, screaming and gasping, we charged up the hill towards the shelter of the hedgerow there. Throwing ourselves into its lee we took about under five seconds to realise that was absolutely futile. With the sound of water rushing and grown men screaming, we bolted for the solid brick structure which was a horses stable at the end of the hedge. Sadly, it was always kept equelly solidly locked. But we thought to get behind it and perhaps save ourselves from some of natures wrath.

 

And that's how we came to be stood, flattened against the side wall of the stable. Only our eyes were letting us down. Our eyes were letting us down because they were bulging ever further out of their sockets, even as we tried to become one with that solid brick wall at our backs. They were bulging just like the tensening muscles on the rear quarters of the huge f*cking Palamino mare stood feet away, facing us with those powerful haunches and shifting her deadly back hooves as she lined us up and decided which one of us was getting it first! Her little friends, the pair of drug crazed goats peered out at us from beneath her, as much as to say; " Oh, man. Bad move, man! Yo heading for a Real downer now ..... ". And so, still screaming, even more than before, we fled!

 

And that's about when it stopped. Just as suddenly as it had began. The stair rods ceased and the sun came out, mocking us. We sullenly lifted the drenched nets. Dumped them back in the saturated bags. Picked up the never to be opened ferret box and begun the unholy trudge back to the bike. Our happy afternoon had become a very litural Wash Out.

 

I've never forgotten that day. Very much doubt poor Chris has either. But I'll bet he too is still out there relating it, when ever 'Going Out' and 'The Weather' come together in the same phrase!