There is no shooting without birds and beaters and at the end of the season the shoot repays all those covers walked in all weathers by the beaters, with their own day of shooting.

Nothing could have prepared me for the exhilaration of firing a 12 bore or the bruces if you hold it wrong. The birds had the better of the day around me, though I did pin two for my troubles.

The day ended the same as other shot days, with lunch curtsey of the Cooles household, much crack across the table and looking forward to the next season.

A lot of these new friends will disappear from view, until that time when the air will be filled with the crack of guns, the barking of dogs and the laughter of men.

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