Shooting Times & Country – 17 July 2019

Corvid stalk

Thereis oftena pairofbreedingcrows

bytheriveronthebottomfields

belowthefarm,andtheseseemedto

offermybestchanceofsuccess.

Large,unwieldygangsof

youngstershavetoomanyeyes

andmakeforunsettledstalking.

Aggressive,territorialadultsdefend

theirpatchliketyrantsandareoften

distractedbyfamilyaffairs.Theyhave

a fewfavouritelocationstospend

timeandI reasonedthatoneofthem

wouldmakeforaneasiertarget.

Havingidentifiedmyquarryand

realisedthatI wouldhavetocatchup

withthispairanyway,therewould

betimeforanexperiment.It wasa

dulldayasI setofffromthehouseand

I’dhardlygonebeyondthetrackat

thebottomofthefarmwhenI heard

a noisysquallandthoughtthegame

wasupalready.

Thesecrowsarenoslouchesand

everybodyknowsa crowcantellthe

differencebetweena shotgunand

a walkingstick.Fortunately,thelittle

.410foldsuponitselfandI managed

tostashit intomycamouflagejacket.

Buteitherway,theyellingwasjust

furiouschit-chat,thekindofbanter

thataggressivecrowsoftenfling

around.I wassofarundetected.

It wasn’tlongbeforeI’dmanaged

tospyoneofthepairandI dropped

behindtheshelterofanold

dyke.Amidthenettles,the

next 20 minuteswerespent

world of wildfowling and 12-bores —

the “mud guns” that are now the tools

of my trade. But the .410 still lingers at

the back of my gun cabinet and, when

I was challenged to undertake one of

the hardest hypothetical questions

in the sporting world, my mind went

straight to that lightly rusted prize

of my childhood.

Shooting Times asked me to stalk

and shoot a carrion crow with an

air rifl e. I know that many crows are

struck by airgun pellets every year,

but most of these seem to fl y out from

the camoufl aged recesses of a hide.

Airgunners often wait for their quarry

to come to them and therefore the

power dynamic lies with the hunter.

Misstep

It is quite a diff erent challenge to

observe a standing crow from long

range, then stalk into him at close

enough quarters, knowing that

even the slightest misstep will lead

to disaster. The changes to airgun

legislation in Scotland mean that

I handed my old BSA .22 into the

police a few years ago. I could hardly

justify keeping it for the sake of an

occasional “plink” with visiting

friends but, for all that, an air rifl e

represents the art of fi eldcraft and

close-quarter engagement.

However, so too does

my single-barrelled

.410, with its eff ective

killing range of

around 25 yards.

And to be specifi c,

my challenge was to tackle a

carrion crow — corvus corone,

the bird with the sharpest

sight and most cunning

disposition of any in the

land. If you think it sounds

nigh on impossible, you’re

underestimating it.

It’s no hardship

to fi nd a crow in this part

of the world. For all I run

Larsen traps throughout

the spring and into

the summer, the sky

is always twinkling

with black and

distant shapes.

Time went by and that .410
became my constant companion.
I found a stretch of old curtain
tape and I threaded the cartridges
into the slots to make a bandolier
across my shoulders until I felt like
a Boer commando or Crocodile
Dundee. I shot great mountains
of rabbits and pigeons, and I even
managed to pick off a stoat as it bolted
from a rabbit hole during a morning’s
ferreting. That gun and I were
inseparable, but I grew up and had my
eye drawn by bigger challenges.
We sometimes shoot grouse on our
hill farm and I was fi nally deemed old
enough for a trip on my 14th birthday.
I was lent a 28-bore for the occasion
and connecting with my fi rst grouse
changed the world for me. The .410
was instantly relegated to second
place and soon it would fall to third
and fourth as I escalated into the

“Crows are no slouches — everybody

knows they can tell the diff erence between

a shotgun and a walking stick”

Patrick is close

enough to take a

shot – but will he

be spotted?