“Shooting at woodcock, the most stunning of our game birds, always carries the small niggle of guilt, which I am thankful for” Every so often in the pages of my game book can be found two small pointy pin feathers held down crudely with sticky tape. There are some on page four and, as I leafed through while researching for this piece, I found another page with eight proud pairs. However, on nearly every page are the words “missed a woodcock”.
No other bird causes such furore as the woodcock. It is almost mythical, its flying glorious to behold and its flavour simply delicious. When I was much younger, a member of my father’s syndicate, Justin, and Andrew Broggio, a family friend and owner of Narracott shoot, would take me…
