Shooters' tales from down on the riverbank

You lie in the cold mud with a gun hoping for a wild goose to fly over. Where's the sport in that? Mark Holdstock dons his waders to offer a guide to wildfowling.

It soon becomes clear out here at the back of beyond that what we are engaged in requires dedication, patience and a supreme ability to withstand numbing cold.

David Upton is regularly down here before dawn, crouching for two or three hours among the freezing reed beds lining the banks of the estuary. "You come and you take your chance," he says candidly. "There's a lot of good luck involved rather than good judgment.

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