braddock
09-19-2023, 07:09 AM
About 50 odd years ago I was employed in the Merchant Marine as a marine engineer, used to do 6 months on then 3 months off, pro rata of course. I used to take my leave to coincide with the shooting season so had plenty time to indulge myself. I used to do 9 months on a ship then at least 4.5 months off.
My big game back in those days was the mountain hares that used to thrive on the hills and mountain tops in my area of Wales.
This particular day I called into an old farm at the side of a steep hill near a place called Sennybridge and was greeted by the farmer, his wife and son who was about my age.
They invited me into their home and if you've ever seen John Wayne's film the Quiet Man you'd recognise the cottage immediately.
They offered me breakfast and wouldn't take no for an answer. Farmers wife cut two big rashers off of a cured ham hanging off the beams and fried them with eggs, home made black pudding and field mushrooms - I remember that meal as if it were yesterday.
The old man and his wife spoke welsh as their first language and were very rusty at English but the son spoke English well, my welsh was rudimentary but eventually we managed to communicate and they agreed I could shoot their ground. I had a rem 1100 for my gun, the old farmer had never seen a gun like it, they ran sheep on the farm with just a large kitchen garden for veggies and a few pigs and a cow for milk plus a couple of the most vicious welsh collies as sheepdogs, my bitch was in season so that took the dogs minds off of my legs.
I spent the next 5 or six hours still hunting and got 3 hares for my trouble, plus many pigeons and culled quite a few crows. Two of the hares and most of the pigeons I left with the farm and they tried to make me stay for evening meal but I was fresh married and the call was greater than my hunger pangs, if you get my drift.
They asked me to return any time but my job changed and I moved to the other end of the country and never went back.
There was a stream running down through the property that had cut deep into the hillside and had so many mature trees growing along its banks, whenever I get homesick for Wales I think of that farm and the welcome they gave me and it's one of my greatest regrets that I didn't go back.
My big game back in those days was the mountain hares that used to thrive on the hills and mountain tops in my area of Wales.
This particular day I called into an old farm at the side of a steep hill near a place called Sennybridge and was greeted by the farmer, his wife and son who was about my age.
They invited me into their home and if you've ever seen John Wayne's film the Quiet Man you'd recognise the cottage immediately.
They offered me breakfast and wouldn't take no for an answer. Farmers wife cut two big rashers off of a cured ham hanging off the beams and fried them with eggs, home made black pudding and field mushrooms - I remember that meal as if it were yesterday.
The old man and his wife spoke welsh as their first language and were very rusty at English but the son spoke English well, my welsh was rudimentary but eventually we managed to communicate and they agreed I could shoot their ground. I had a rem 1100 for my gun, the old farmer had never seen a gun like it, they ran sheep on the farm with just a large kitchen garden for veggies and a few pigs and a cow for milk plus a couple of the most vicious welsh collies as sheepdogs, my bitch was in season so that took the dogs minds off of my legs.
I spent the next 5 or six hours still hunting and got 3 hares for my trouble, plus many pigeons and culled quite a few crows. Two of the hares and most of the pigeons I left with the farm and they tried to make me stay for evening meal but I was fresh married and the call was greater than my hunger pangs, if you get my drift.
They asked me to return any time but my job changed and I moved to the other end of the country and never went back.
There was a stream running down through the property that had cut deep into the hillside and had so many mature trees growing along its banks, whenever I get homesick for Wales I think of that farm and the welcome they gave me and it's one of my greatest regrets that I didn't go back.