Words and images by Matt Kidd
A 5-hour drive covering almost 260 miles predominantly on the A1 from Alnwick to Frank Stephenson’s family home in Suffolk wasn’t at all bad. The Grenadier’s comfy, heated seats certainly helped achy legs and backs from our 22k steps across Broome Park estate on Day 4. The Grenadier’s outward visability and roomy cabin are also unusual for a vehicle of this type.
What was tough, though, was a 5th day in a row of getting up and out way before the crack of dawn, having only had six hours’ shut eye (at best).
Our plan was as follows: enjoy the morning flight on the marshes; head to the Boulge Hall shoot where we would help gamekeeper Chris Dickens go about his duties, then finally wait in a high seat until dusk for a fallow deer, muntjac or fox. The latter, of course, would not make it onto the menu of the GunsOnPegs Christmas shoot day lunch: the climax of our sporting road trip and by which our success would be judged.
A plan of action
And so, clad in rubber ocean waders and camo, we left our Grenadier after a 7-mile drive to the middle of nowhere and into the gloomy darkness of the marsh. Despite the wintry scene around us looking like a chilling Adnams’ Ghost Ship label, it was very mild and within 50 or so metres of squelching through mud we had stopped to strip off base layers and threw them into the decoy bag.
“The mud is pretty tough going, isn’t it?” quietly laughs Frank, gliding rather quickly through it. Digby and I were back and forth, pulling at our waders with our free hand four or five times or more with every step and getting out of breath. We agreed it takes a fair bit of practice to learn a wildfowler’s walk.
“Being a falling tide and about two hours off the low water mark, we will have to go so much further than usual across this mud to get any hopes of a shot,” he adds. “Plus, being warm, clear and still, we have about the absolute worst conditions for wildfowling.
“The saltings here are an incredibly rare terrain,” Frank continues, a little further on. “They contain some of the rarest coastal and saltmarsh plants in the country, which are in great abundance here. We have to be really careful where we tread, and make sure that we leave nothing but our footprints behind.”
We agreed a morning’s wildfowling allows you to really get back to nature, benefitting mentally from the isolation of being out in remote wilderness, and is often most rewarding when one is battered by the elements. How else would you get to watch waders, ducks and geese wake up as the dark sky melts away, or as they head to roost before daylight turns into an inky black?
In my experience, the sunrises and sunsets while laid up in cold mud are the absolute best there are. It is a precious and romantic pastime that’s comparable to very few. If you get a shot it’s a bonus, never a requirement.
“It is actually one of the lowest impact activities, too, wildfowling,” admits Frank. “You might fire a handful of non-toxic cartridges on a very good day, and everything you shoot produces a healthy, delicious meal or two. The sound of the shot, while loud for a split second, gives far less sustained sound pollution than that from engines of pleasure boats, for example."
"Plus, wildfowling clubs also practice habitat enhancement, litter pick areas no Joe Public would ever venture to, monitor bird populations, and often create additional nature reserves, and ownership/jurisdiction by a club prevents development of marshes and wetlands for other leisure/intensive human use.”
We finally reached a creek from which to conceal our position and waited for the sun to rise. With little water anywhere now, the majority of ducks and geese would have already moved out with the tide to stay close to the water’s edge, but we hoped a few quarry species remained in some deeper parts. But all was quiet around us except for dunlin, knot, redshank and a handful of other mud dwellers for some time, as a glorious, deep-orange sun lit up the sky before us.
About 30 minutes before calling time on our session, a flock of about 20 teal lifted and landed again, two creeks over. An experienced Frank used the call intermittently to try and bring them closer, and with our attention fixed on the ground in front, a rush of wings came from behind and into the scene before us.
Only Digby managed to rush a couple of shots by the time they were out of range. It was the only chance afforded to us, and Woody, Frank’s spaniel, would have to wait for another day to be rewarded for his patience and temperament. A leisurely breakfast at Frank’s beckoned.
Finally, out of grossly muddy waders and coats, and with mud showered out of our hair, off our faces and picked from under our fingernails, it was time to meet Chris for an afternoon of keepering duties.
Getting down to work
Boulge Hall shoot encompasses a little less than 1,000 acres, with 140 acres of mature woodland divided into many small coppices. A large part of the shoot is typical English parkland that has been turned from arable to grass within the wildlife stewardship scheme, together with the planting of many wild bird crops, pollen and nectar mixtures.
The team is also proud to have successfully introduced and maintained a stock of grey partridges, too, which if shot on a shoot day result in a fine donated to charity. To ensure the health of their precious woodland, Chris ensures that deer – particularly fallow and muntjac – are effectively managed to sustainable populations, too, which would grow at an alarming rate without and cause no end of damage.
Engineered as a workhorse, the INEOS Grenadier would therefore be tested for suitability on Chris’ lengthy list of requirements at this time of year.
“I need a vehicle that I can hop in and take anywhere, with quick access to my tools and feed. With the recent wet weather, we have a lot of thick mud and deep tracks in the fields and woods which can catch out many an off-road vehicle – with so many things to complete here, getting stuck is just not an option,” explained Chris.
“My remaining tasks for this afternoon will be to fix some of our pens and high seats, fill up our feeders across the estate, and finally, take the beaters’ wagon to the meeting point ready for tomorrow, which needed a few repairs.
“You two,” he pointed to Frank and me with an air of scepticism, a trait of so many keepers across the country, “can take my truck as a back-up and help us get out of any trouble.” Quietly confident that it would be the other way round, the three of us helped to load up the tools, materials and feed we would need (one requirement ticked off) and set out from the yard.
The hardcore tracks for the first half a mile or so were easy going. But off the main tracks and into the first of several fields it was a totally different story; so much standing water and thick, soft mud. In front of us Grenadier looked untroubled, excelling in what it was built to do, and left surprisingly minimal disturbance, all things considered. The truck, on the other hand, was shimmying its way down the tracks despite Frank’s best efforts, and the unsteady ride was making me rather nauseous.
In the woods the terrain worsened. Nevertheless, we followed and helped with one of the pens which had been damaged following a storm in a previous month. We chatted about the vehicles, and how the truck seemed to be fairing worse. It was decided the truck would lead the way, so that it had the best of the conditions, with Chris in the driving seat.
We stopped at a number of feeders, replaced a few steps on an older high seat and patched a section of roof on another, but getting there the result was the same. Grenadier 2 – Faithful truck 0. Back at the yard, we decanted the tools and remaining feed into Chris’ truck, hooked up the trailer and deposited the beaters’ wagon where it was required. Our Grenadier had done a stellar job, and our labour didn’t let us down neither.
A last chance for some venison
As a thank you for our help, Chris then left us with directions for where two high seats were positioned where we could wait out with a rifle until dark and help with his deer and vermin control. Which we duly did, though only a slim chance of a fallow pricket and a muntjac were afforded to us, but never made it into a ride for a safe shot.
On the empty-handed walk back to the Grenadier, Digby opines: “Whether Chris will put in an order of a Grenadier is anyone’s guess, but we do know that he is a non-believer in its ability, versatility and practicality no more. I think he was actually very impressed, though he did his very best not to show it. I think a lot of keepers will be asking owners to update their estate vehicles with Grenadiers, and I can totally see why.”
Our evening concluded with packing our gear into the vehicle and heading to Stamford in Lincolnshire for a night stay before the GunsOnPegs Christmas shoot day on Day 6.
Bag total: 6 pheasants; 3 grouse; 1 mallard
Miles completed: 809
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