An extract from
Wildfowing - North and South
by Alan Jarrett

A HOLE IN THE GROUND
After that first day flighting the Egyptian geese we tried for them again the next morning with limited success. We knew from experience at home that geese - no matter how unwary - soon tire of being shot at and eventually fly high and wide. They were no different in Africa, and needed a rest before we tried them again. This time we were better organised, for when we arrived in the afternoon the farm workers had been detailed to dig two holes in the fields from which we hoped to ambush incoming geese. The great sandy expanse of my field eventually gave way after about 200 yards to a cavernous pit that was both narrow and deep. The main worry as I looked down at the handiwork was whether it would be possible to get out unaided!

In the event the pit was no more than armpit deep, with the resultant spoil built into a low rampart around the pit. It was quite the most excellent subterranean shooting position I have so far encountered, although every movement provoked a rain of sandy soil that filled pockets and boots alike. All around the ground was littered with peanuts. They are named groundnuts advisedly, for they grow underground beneath a shrubby plant and provide a high protein foodstuff in a country craving for all the food it can get. Inevitably, as with all harvesting processes, there is a certain amount of spillage - enter the geese.

The geese came carefully on wide circuits of the field. The preparations for the flight included - at our suggestion - a quantity of goose wings cut from birds shot on previous outings. The important thing about having wings only was the great white patch they sport; by placing these in pairs either side of a ridge on the field, the impression of geese feeding was passable. Some of the incoming Egyptians decoyed without hesitation to a vast assemblage of sacred ibis (dubbed 'oxbirds' by the Afrikaans), which were also intent on a good feed of nuts; but after more shots than it is wise to own up to two big Egyptians were laid out in front of the pit with outstretched wings to act as decoys. This exercise was repeated as each bird was added to the bag, so that eventually a very tempting spread of decoys lay upon the field.

The next few minutes were a blur of great birds with splaying paddles; of steady, measured calls, which rise to that harsh cussing rasp when danger becomes evident; of birds hitting the field with a 'splash' of sand. Now and then a cripple-stopper prevented a long chase, so that eventually a nice bag of eight Egyptians lay before the pit, and a wonderful flight had come to an end. Several good opportunities for a right-and-left went begging as a result of some horrible misses, but the bag mounted steadily. It seldom ceases to amaze me the sheer manoeuvrability of geese: one bird when confronted with movement below and the deadly grin of twin barrels seemed to stop in mid-air, and turn away on swiftly beating wings.

The right-and-left finally came. A single bird had been plucked from a pair that had come in from left to right barely more than 10 feet off the ground, and the reload was carried out in a cheery relaxed manner. Each reload was accomplished by ejecting the spent cases over the rim of the hole, dropping the barrels of the gun down into the hole and inserting shiny new cases - taking care not to let the sandy soil get into the mechanism. Then carefully raising the stock to snap the gun shut. This time on looking up there were two Egyptians not more than 20 yards away and barely above the ground; they had approached unseen - and for once silently - from the rear, and were totally oblivious to my presence. The first shot sped true and the second bird began to turn away in alarm; but at that height and low down almost all opportunity for manoeuvrability had gone, and it simply remained for the gun to be nudged down the right-hand side of the bird and see it hit the ground in a great gout of dust.

The final bird came from a pair that came from out of the dark part of the sky as the light faded. For long seconds the steady rhythmic call came out of the gloom, gradually getting louder and louder, until the two birds appeared on stiff gliding wings coming right for the decoys. It was an easy enough chance, and one of them lay in a swirl of dust, whilst the survivor turned back into the gathering night with its harsh curses drifting back to me. With the dying of the day the sun had slid below the horizon as a spectacular fireball impossible to gaze at directly. At its passing the whole of the sky was alight for long minutes in a display of after-sun never seen here in England.

Eamon had been detailed to lie in ambush by a small clump of low trees way back in the centre of the field. Much later he came from out of the dying sun with the small clump of trees at his back so that his approach was invisible save for the plumes of gently drifting sand in his wake which marked his plodding passage. It was good to have somebody to share the adventure with - and someone to graciously help carry home the bag!