Jottings for wildfowlers: opening-day greylags and picking the right spot on the saltings

Geese seem to have been everywhere over the past few weeks. There are greylags on our local farm reservoirs and trout lakes, there have been big numbers of Canadas flighting out onto the stubbles from old flooded gravel workings in the river valley and the other day I even saw a skein of barnacles flying over the farm. It’s the same out on the coastal marshes, which prompted me to think in terms of a trip down to the foreshore for a goose on 1 September rather than driving over to the Ouse Washes in search of an early mallard.

There’s not too much preparation needed for a simple morning flight at this time of year. The night-time temperature is so mild that I barely need a fowling jacket, and a pair of wellies is quite sufficient to tramp out onto the saltings – there’s no real need for waders. I had got my gun and a full belt of Eley bismuth ready the previous evening, so it was just a matter of boiling the kettle for a quick cup of tea before the half-hour drive to the club car park, then walking out to the foreshore.

A thermal imager for the walk out in the dark

It’s about a 40-minute hike across the grazing marshes to get to the sea wall, and it’s got to be done in full darkness. For this reason, I had slipped my Pulsar Accolade thermal imager into my fowling bag. Given the amount of time that is spent in darkness or near darkness during the fowling season, it makes a good deal of sense to carry the thermal. A head torch will light up the ground for several metres around, but with a thermal imager you can see the entire landscape to the horizon. Not only that, but you can check out where wildfowl are settling at night, and you can even watch airborne packs of ducks or skeins of geese in complete darkness as they move around the marsh. I have recently upgraded the thermal device I use for deerstalking, so my old Accolade has now been relegated to wildfowling duties.

There was barely a glow in the eastern sky as I climbed the steps to the top of the sea wall and drank in that magical burst of salt air scented with a cocktail of seaweed and estuarine mud. High water had only just been and gone, so the tide was right up to the edge of the saltings, with a light onshore breeze making ideal conditions for a morning flight. Having first scanned the grazing marsh with the thermal to check for geese, I rounded the bay and dropped down onto the saltings with Holly trotting along beside me. I had hoped that resident birds might be flighting out across the marsh to the opposite side of the estuary, but the thermal picked out nothing apart from crowds of waders.

Careful positioning on the saltings

And at the first crack of dawn, that was what came over me. Shrieking redshank rushing low over the marsh, bar-tailed godwits and an army of curlews just visible against the dawn sky. I had chosen my position carefully. The closest point of the saltings is normally a good spot and served me well last season. Moreover, I had first choice, since nobody else was out on the marsh. Or so I thought.

The light was already coming up when I spotted another person and a dog hurrying along the sea wall. An early-morning dog walker or another fowler? I soon clocked the gun slip on his back, and after a brief conversation, he made his way halfway along the marsh, maybe 250 yards from where I crouched along the tideline.

As it turned out, he was right and I was wrong. Within half an hour I could hear goose talk. A low murmuring at first but rising to a mighty crescendo as a huge army of greylags appeared over the water, coming from the far side of the estuary. I tucked low into the marsh, but it was clear that their track was not going to be over me, and sure enough they poured over my new friend. I looked on as maybe 150 geese went over him, watched his gun go up, heard the shot and saw a single bird crash down onto the saltings.

Oh well, it may not have been my morning, but at least one of our club members scored a goose on the first day of the season. And the geese will remain here or hereabouts for a few more weeks to come. Perhaps next time I might select a different position for morning flight.

Graham Downing is a passionate wildfowler who has been shooting over innumerable estuaries and marshes with a dog at heel for more than 50 years.