Each week, 'Between the Eyes', will watch The Clovelly Shoot from a variety of perspectives - this week it is the turn Charles Goucher - The Shoot Owner. ..... 

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As Autumn starts descending on Clovelly, the landscape is transforming into a tapestry of warm hues - one of my favourite times..  The vibrant greens are slowly giving way to rich golds, reds and oranges - all creating a stunning backdrop for the shoot.

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The bustle of summer visitors is giving way to a quieter feel, an a peaceful prelude to the upcoming season...

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The whole landscape of the shoot is shifting with the seasons, leaves are now beginning to carpet the ground helping to pronounce the colours and adding a new dimension to the landscape.

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But the real starts of the show however are the birds (keepers read on....). Jim, Nick and Mike have worked tirelessly ensuring our birds are healthy strong and ready for the start of the season.   Now all released and established, they're thriving and are spread across the estate, their presence a testament to the exceptional care they have received.

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With the first day of shooting approaching rapidly, excitement is building, the estate is ready to welcome its guests from ...

The keepers, to The Red Lion Hotel, from Dave our chef to the beaters, from Pickers up to our teams of dogs and finally from us all.

It is truly a spectacular time at Clovelly where nature beauty and the dedication of the team have come together perfectly.

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I for one, am really looking forward to welcoming guns - both old and new ......

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Charles Goucher

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The air over the Clovelly estate is alive with motion and light, summer has spread its green cloud across the woodland, the great trees - oaks, beeches and chestnuts now draw a canopy so thick that the sun dappled the paths below like falling coins of gold.  As I swoop over the tree tops, I see where once the land was uneven and wet, the fields uneven.... now the tracks are dry and the fields have been rolled into soft curves.  The whole landscape now looking changed from careful planning and planting.  The fields around the drives, now shimmer with cover crops and the ground beneath them is alive with unseen roots and wriggling life ...  But moreover the kaleidoscopes of butterflies are a sight to be seen.

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Down by some of the drives, the wildlife is thriving, with some Butterflies even here - dancing like scraps of silk in the breezes.  Bees are tracing lazy circuits over the hedges and the low murmur of insect life rises out of the grass itself.

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The keepers seem to be everywhere I fly - I spot them at first light moving with purposeful strides, feed bags slung over shoulders, checking pens, testing water and spreading grains with an easy rhythm born of long practice.   The poults are in, small bundles of energy that cheep and dart, feathers catching the sun as they grow stronger and larger by the very day,

 

' Thats the last lot in now,'...... I heard one keeper say to another, wiping a brown with a forearm.  The weather has been fickle - sudden sharp, hard showers followed by dry blistering spells - but have they adapted, tending to each pen with a diligence that speaks of pride and respect.

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Elsewhere on the estate, hammers are ringing against timber, a new bridge is rising over a narrow gully, its supports strong and true. Old gun pegs were being dug out and replaced, the earth turning dark and loamy under their shovels.  On one of the main tracks, another team are patching holes and filling with fresh gravel, their voices carrying in the warm air as they worked.

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By evening, as the light softened and the canopy above glowed green-gold, the estate seems to take a deep breath and exhale.   The scent of wildflowers mingles over the early tang of freshly cut wood.  A hare lopes across a ride, pausing only to watch as the men packed away their tools for the day.

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Clovelly is not just an estate, it is my estate and it is a living, breathing thing, reshaped and cared for my many many hands, season after season.   And now as summer deepens, it thrums with life - from the flutter of a butterfly's wings to the steady and meteoric growth of the young poults.

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Release days will come soon, but for now, I hear only the steady rhythm of work, the hum of wildlife and the feeling - shared by all who walk these paths that something thriving and beautiful is unfolding once again.

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Oh and I really want to mention the great wedding we had take place at Clovelly in July.   Jim and Lauren's wedding, alias head keeper/manager and head of beating team.   They are both invaluable assets to Clovelly.  Jim with his exceptional skills and knowledge of Clovelly, the shooting world and estate management, Lauren with her amazing expertise working her 7 dogs all at once - an amazing sight..  and of course, the great help she is to Jim.  

Jim has worked with Charles since leaving university and they are truly a great match - I watch them on shoot days - true harmony and respect.  

Such a great Clovelly wedding with family, friends, beaters, guns, fishing friends and so so many more. Clovelly would not be the same without them.. as well as running Clovelly Shoot - Jim can be found following his other passion during summer months of fishing - he takes parties out towards Lundy - I love to follow in the wake of his boat...  Lauren sells the fish fish to locals and from their own fishing van in the visitor car park.  

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I view myself as so very very lucky to be part of this relationship between nature and man.... watching the 2 work in harmony and symmetry.

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Through the eyes of Ember...

 

The final morning of the season dawned dry and misty with the sea fog drifting in over Clovelly  - a late fog for this time of year but hey – the weather had not exactly been predictable ! and I should know I work in it in all conditions….

 

The winter air felt the first promise of spring …..   Goral the gull soared over us on the updrafts, his sharp old eyes taking in the familiar sight of the shoot assembling for one last time.  No sparkling range rovers, no expansive new 4 wheel drives – just the sight of a mass of rural vehicles… with my dog mates popping heads out of windows, leaning over tail gates with excitement written all over their bodies and ready for the off … I was in my normal old Landrover – draughty but great to look out of the back of !

 

Today was different – it was Beaters Day !  the day for those who had spent months wading through brambles, clambering and hauling themselves up the Clovelly ravines, flushing birds from the woodlands and working their dogs like me across the terrain.  It was a day of thanks, camaraderie and a final flush of the closed season. 

 

The day was divided between beating and shooting…. The beaters and keepers gathered, a smorgasboard of worn tweeds, mismatched hats, shotguns slung over their shoulders and us quivering by their sides.    It was a good atmosphere, light humoured banter, the usual more formal side of the shoot replaced with looser, lively energy.  Local farmers, friends, drivers, beaters, family and friends who had all helped to make Clovelly the shoot it is standing together, laughing and trading stories.  And of course us …….

 

Although, some of us  dogs were weary from months of work, (there can be upwards of 25 of us each day)... we were still shaking  with excitement, our tails wagging furiously as we readied ourselves for the last push.  Perhaps we were a little slower and stiffer in our movements, our bursts of energy shorter but our love for the work remained undimmed.

 

As Goral wheeled around the valleys, he noticed the firsts shifts towards Spring…. The landscape was gently softening, the minutest of buds were beginning to appear and the oak trees although to the passing eye looked skeletal, seemed to hold the first flush of green deep within their branches – waiting for the warmer days to unfurl.   

 

Soon the valleys that had echoed with the crack of gunfire, whistles and us dogs, would fall silent, giving over to the quiet work of the keepers who would soon be turning their attention to next season, the managing of the habitat and the preparation for new young blood.

 

The first drive began with the first ‘chosen’ to shoot instead of beating, half of us went beating and half stayed with the guns …. It was a different feel, the birds were wilder, wily, less predictable and faster – all only adding to the day, the shooting was spirited – more laughter, no pressure, and good natured cheers rang through the valleys.  Today was about the sheer joy of the sport, of being part of something steeped in tradition – something Clovelly is so steeped in. We revelled in it and running in every direction !

 

As the morning wore on, hip flasks twitching in pockets – there were a few unorthodox shots – some taken with wild optimism rather than skill – but nobody minded.  Stories told today would last till next season, with each pheasant becoming higher, faster and more elusive. Which of us dogs had made the best retrieve, the best find and picked up the most birds… (me of course).

 

By midday, guns were shouldered and the group and us made our way to a clearing to have lunch.  No grand bbq today but just good honest food shared by all – flasks of hot soup opened, sandwiches unwrapped, home made pies shared. And of course, a few odd tit bits for us.

 

From the sky Goral, watched it all unfold.  He had seen this village, these woods – through every season but he always felt this shift when the shooting stopped.  Soon the men and dogs would disappear, the land would return to its quiet patterns and the air would no longer ring with the calls of the shoot or the distant crack of guns.

 

Our day was fun, exhausting, at times a race between us to get to the falling bird – but I don’t think any of us would change a thing….

 

The day continued on until the sun could be seen dipping towards the sea, golden light splayed over the wild cliffs and the cobbled streets below. Goral gave a final satisfied cry and wheeled away toward the village.  There was always something new to watch in Clovelly – the season of the shoot was over but life here never truly stood still.  The valleys would echo once more with the sounds of the shoot, the camaraderie would return and the cycle would begin again.   But for now Clovelly would rest, waiting for the first chill morning and the cycle would begin again with the next chapter.

 

Us dogs made our way, now wearily to our cars, some of us leaping in, some needing a helping hand.   It had been a wonderful season, hard work but so energising.  Some of us would now have a well earned break for the summer – life would be more leisurely for a few months.

 

And as for Sam - who enjoyed his first day at Clovelly and his first hit, he dreamt of more to come – this season had been a turning point for him – his first true high-bird shooting, his first real connection to the sport.  He dreamt of more to come……..

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