Always be a Game Bird.
I am not part of the shooting, hunting set.That's because I not posh:-
I’m Welsh.
In Wales you are more defined by who your father was, which school you went to and which chapel you attend. God help you if you can’t hold a note...
Still, I’m a game bird, willing to learn.
It was in this spirit that I accompanied my husband to lunch with his chum who planned to serve some jolly nice grouse which had been nestling in his freezer since August. He’d shot them himself.
“I hate cooking” said his wife as she passed me the latest copy of Country Life, “you won’t have seen it yet.” I didn’t admit the last one I read, two years ago, was at the orthodontist’s in Farnham. Still, it’s refreshing to meet someone whose culinary skills are as lacking as mine. I happily perused the magazine as my companion scribbled under her “Christmas Cards, Locals” column in a foolscap book.
I learnt plenty from Country Life. I mean ,there’s enough info in there on hunting etiquette, dress codes etc to justify a “Game Studies” B.A. in some posh polytechnic.
“A horse known to exhibit kicking behaviour should be kept to the rear and wear a red ribbon at the top of its tail.” Apparently, at a shoot, a person” sporting tassels and rhinestones” would be frowned upon and probably” frighten the birds.” It’s a good idea to carry “printed details” of any medical condition, should you “have an accident.” What?
Like, being shot?
Apparently, jeans are out. One Master of the Hunt complained that turning out “like an out-of-work Hamburg seaman” is wholly unacceptable.
For myself, I cannot envisage taking part in blood sports. Oscar Wilde described hunting as "the unspeakable in pursuit of the uneatable.” Well I’m not sure about that. Admittedly fox would be pretty unpalatable, but at least the pheasant hunters eat what they shoot.
It’s certainly seems more respectful than the mass slaughter of the innocents that befalls the migratory birds in Italy.
At the table I peered at my grouse, lying there. Apparently, unlike farmed pheasants, it is a “really wild” bird. I bet it was after being blasted out of the sky by a twelve bore. I felt a twang of pity, but hey, I’m a carnivore. I got over it!
And it was delicious.
At a shoot you’re expected to wear a shirt and tie, out of respect for the quarry. I was rather impressed, and a vision of birds quoting Suetonius’ “moratori te salutamus”” we who are about to die salute thee” came unbidden to my mind. As did the story from my friend Lyn, who, accompanying her husband to a tedious accountancy dinner, was squashed between two actuaries. They talked to each other over her before good manners and etiquette finally asserted themselves. One deigned to ask “And what do you do?”
“I’m a Brown Owl” she innocently replied “Girl Guides.” They were completely dumbfounded.
My husband, fortified by copious amounts of Chateau Margaux Grand Cru, reminisced. “Do you remember that wine tasting we attended in Tokyo, with those two dolly birds tarted up in spangles and feathers?”
“Good Lord, yes.I certainly do.”
Now it is not generally known that some Asian people lack the enzyme that processes alcohol. Two hours into the evening the glamour models, now totally plastered, collapsed on the plush velvet reception sofa. His colleague commented:-
“They look like shot pheasants!”
And as for horse riding, well...
The last time I mounted a horse was at a riding school in the Brecon Beacons. I insisted on the animal nearest the ground. I got Cornflake, a short-legged, ginger, mulish beast with a sceptical look in his eye.
We bonded.
Hunting. Hmm.
But I have to say, there’s a lot to be said about the camaraderie, the good manners, the respect for the farmers, the timelessness , the sense of tradition , of continuity, of occasion , and the"no matter how muddy you become, you absolutely must look presentable.”
We had a delightful lunch, full of fun, good food, superb wine and reminiscences. Besides which our hosts generously lent us some plus fours and socks. They gave invaluable tips, all for the benefit of our son, due, ahem, to attend a shooting party, his first, that weekend.
It made me think.
In life, it’s important to be open to experience and to:-
always contribute, to bring something to the table, no matter what colour your feathers.
