TEN months had passed since I’d last occupied this hide. It was last January when David Wilcox and me, at the invitation of Vince Raw, intercepted duck and woodcock on Vince’s flight pond in the Scottish borders of Dumfries & Galloway. 

On that occasion I shot well with five duck falling to my semi-auto although the woodcock managed to elude me. Now it was October and probably a bit too early for woodcock and this time Vince’s friend Gavin was in the adjacent hide, his first outing this season.

The cawing of rooks greeted our arrival. They were above the conifers ready to drop into the plantation and milled about in the sky above, hanging on the strengthening wind like black rags tossed against the clouds. 

Then, deciding it was time to roost they folded their wings and plummeted towards the tree tops, providing a spectacle of aerobatics as they tumbled earthbound before levelling out to disappear in the canopy. 

The light was fading and we waited in anticipation of what lay ahead. A Sparrowhawk appeared over the ponds providing another aerial display and in the distance was the hum of traffic on the nearby A75, the main road between Stranraer and Gretna.

A Tawny Owl dropped out of the plantation. I spotted it as it came over Gavin’s hide and it literally skimmed my hat – the closest encounter I’ve ever experienced with an owl!

Then above the sound of the distant traffic I heard the chattering of duck and a high pair of mallard circled. They didn’t come from the road and the Solway as expected. They came from above the plantation and were now swinging in towards the ponds, dropping closer all the time.

On their third circuit I stood up, swung and promptly missed with both barrels! Gavin got off one shot but he too failed to connect. Reloading I cursed my performance and my gun as I hadn’t got my favoured auto with me. Instead I had the under and over with tight chokes, a gun I never seem to do well with, especially on second barrel targets.

Another sound of chattering heralded more mallard swinging in which were following the same route so I stood again and swung through as they came over me. 

A shot from Vince’s gun in the adjacent hide suggested they were well within range of all of us. The ducks turned up the power and climbed almost vertically, sliding back over me as they did so and my second shot found a handsome drake which crashed through the trees to bounce on the grass not more than ten feet away from me.

With renewed enthusiasm I swung through the next single and watched it fold directly above me, almost crashing into Gavin’s hide! Then Gavin and Vince were into action with another mallard folding to Gavin’s gun.

Another pair appeared high, circled but were lost from view over the adjacent pasture and, as I stared into the inky blackness, I just caught sight of their re-appearance coming in low. My first shot missed but another folded dead in the air to my second barrel.

Then it was too dark to see. Audible splashes and the odd quack said more duck were coming in but we couldn’t see them so Vince called us in for the pick-up.

While Gavin picked one ‘Cleo’ hunted up the grass for the first kill and ‘Shanti’ collected another. However, ‘Cleo’ could make nothing of the area and, search as hard I did with the aid of the torch, I could not find the fowl. Vince cast ‘Shanti’ over the area and she was soon into the pond after a very lively mallard.

Each time she got within striking distance the fowl dived. Although I tried desperately to get off another barrel, it proved too difficult with a gun in one hand, torch in the other and dog in the water. Then the trail went cold. 

The margins of the pond were searched thoroughly by three dogs and nothing was found so Vince set off in the opposite direction to collect his gun and bag. In the meantime ‘Shanti’s’ nose had picked up scent and she was in full seeking mode as she crossed the sward and disappeared into the ditch Vince dug to relieve flooding.

I picked ‘Shanti’ out in my torch beam as she struggled back up the bank with a very lively drake mallard.

It was one of the best retrieves I’ve seen for many years. From where the duck originally landed and was spotted diving to where she eventually caught up with it was quite a distance. Not only was it a tremendous effort by the drake to escape, it was also a wonderful example of determination from the dog to prevent it from doing so. 

With the slain gathered we joined Vince at the vehicles for a wee dram. This is a custom I’ve grown quite fond of considering I lost the taste for whisky after once drinking two thirds of a bottle at a party in my misspent youth.

It appears that 35 years on, taken in moderation with good friends, it’s not so bad after all so on our journey home from the Borders Mrs Robinson kindly bought me a bottle from Gretna.

Now I, too, can uphold this tradition when entertaining guests after a successful evening flight.