Woodcock in Ireland
Southern Ireland is one of the great wingshooting destinations of the world, and, although there are a significant number of driven shoots – more than many in England and Scotland might imagine – it is perhaps for it's walked up and rough shooting that it is most famous. Ireland has, or had, four native game birds, the red grouse (Lagopus lagopus hibericus - there is no proof of a separate irish bird though it has been conjectured), grey partridge (Perdix perdix – extremely rare and protected now), the woodcock (scolopax rusticola) and the snipe (Gallinago gallinago).
Irish driven shooting mainly concerns pheasant and introduced French partrdge (Alectoris rufa) today. As for the other species mentioned above, they are walked up or driven informally on most (though not all) occasions. I have done quite a lot of bird shooting in Ireland, with the control of pest birds having provided as much 'sport' as more upmarket driven days. My experience of woodcock in the Emerald Isle is limited but memorable. I had a vast number in front of my gun on a driven shoot once, but none presented a safe shot, indeed, on one drive I saw no less than 14 without an opportunity – very frustrating!
Ireland has a quite large native population of woodcock, though, and many migrants too. Because of boggy ground and cattle pasture for feeding (where cow pats provide worms and other foodstuff), and the warmth of the Gulf Stream, woodcock seem to thrive. They feed nocturnally and need cover during the day. The birds come over from Scandinavia and Russia when conditions become very cold, often stopping off on route in Eastern England and Scotland. The woodcock does not seem to like our West Country much, but 'falls' are seen in South Wales (which also has its fair share of snipe). Mass 'irruption' occurs when weather in the eastern countries becomes rarely harsh (these are the occasions when you see woodcock on north sea oil rigs).
My most memorable experience of Irish woodcock in Ireland was near Kerry where a kind and very well heeled friend put my girlfriend and I up at the Butler Arms – a hotel that was a favourite of Charlie Chaplin. It was all the more of an event because they opened the establishment and its excellent restaurant just for our party. Life can be tough! The adventure, because so it proved, began with the approach into Kerry Airport. There were screams from other passengers as our plane was buffeted by strong air currents. This slightly worrisome event is etched in my memory because the other half – five feet nothing of iron will – was looking out of the window and the bouncing horizon noting “this is great!” as other passengers were reaching for their sick bags. Anyway we landed, and it was with a sense of some relief (at least in my case) that we drove the fare distance to the old coastal hotel, which faces the Atlantic.
Ireland always seems to offer up the unexpected, and the Butler Arms was quite a place. The Craic was great, nevertheless, and in spite of the 'outfitter', a local builder rather more taciturn than most of his universally welcoming fellow countryman. The Guiness flowed. The next morning, at a civilised hour, we drove out in 4x4s to our first shooting location about 20 minutes away. It was a very cold and wet late January morning, happily it began to clear a bit as we arrived.
We trekked across marshy fields interlaced with sall fleets which we were (usually) able to jump and climbed over fences into a wooded area where we were put in position. A few men with dogs beat this with the intention of bringing birds to us. Nothing much happened initially. After lunch, we went back to the same area and had more luck. I shot a bird, and, later, another. Woodcock shooting is always an instinctive business and one must consider where one's gun is pointing as always, and also consider the other guns and note their gun handling. Woodcock, unless driven formally, tend to duck and dive as they leave cover. You may only get once chance and you must make the most of it. A fast handling open choked gun is usually the best call.
The next day will remain etched in my memory forever, because changing location we were walking across boggy ground. And, at some point I noted that my other half, who was carrying the cameras as is sometimes her lot, was missing. There was a plaintiff, but not hysterical call, and I turned and scanned the surrounding area. There she was poor, brave, thing, about 50 yards back waist deep and sinking, in a bog. We got to her in time, but it took myself and another man to get her out. Happily she still remained attached to her boots but was a little mudded-up. A few more woodcock were shot that day. Our total tally between a small team was half dozen averaging out about 2 birds each. No-one should expect a big bag on a woodcock day anywhere – that's not the point. Not losing the girl friend is a good thing too.
