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Mark Tointon, treasurer of the Dorset Wildfowlers Association, spreads his decoys out in Ower Bay
By Kate Gatacre
Thursday, 03 December 2009
Kate Gatacre visits a forward-looking club in Poole Harbour, where vast shallow waters and numerous islands provide an enthralling flight
All our wildfowling is done by boat,” Mark Tointon, treasurer of the Dorset Wildfowlers Association (DWA), had told me before I went to meet him and Sean Adamson, a long-standing member of the club. Paul Quagliana, the Shooting Times photographer, was chatting to Sean and Mark when I pulled up to the car park at Corfe Castle. The day was shrouded in thick fog and there was a biting cold in the air. We had planned to drive up to a high point so that we could get a feel for the lie of the land.
“You’ll see when we take you around the various marshes, it can get confusing,” Mark said, as we debated what course of action to take. “Poole is the second largest natural harbour in the world, and there are hundreds of inlets, bays and gutters. It can make it quite hard to navigate.”
We drove up to the viewpoint nonetheless, but there was not a hope of seeing more than 10ft, let alone the entire harbour. “We’ll have to take you round the various bays. With any luck the fog will start lifting,” Sean said, as we drove to where he had moored his boat. Founded in 1952, the DWA enjoys a good amount of foreshore, most on a Crown lease. Recently, however, the club had acknowledged the importance of further developing access to wildfowling. “We are committed to improving opportunities for our members,” Mark told me. “We have restructured our membership fees, which now incorporate an annual contribution to a land fund; this will better enable us to invest in the longterm future of our club. It has been an interesting year, with much debate in the club about how best to move forward, but as a result we have a really committed membership pulling together to our mutual benefit.”
Though membership numbers dipped when fees were revised, the club currently has 115 or so members and receives regular enquiries from people interested in joining. “The club organises monthly meetings with guest speakers. Other events include a summer barbecue, plus small-bore and full-bore range days. These activities encourage members to get more involved in the club and, as a result, we are now in a strong position to drive the club forward,” explained Sean. “In the past, working parties from the club have visited Brownsea Island, constructing and maintaining the tern islands, ensuring that they remain in good condition. We are now exploring other conservation activities in which we can get involved.”
The club purchased its first piece of land three years ago, buying Giggers Island, which is at the Frome and Piddle end of the harbour. Poole Harbour is littered with islands and while it is a very shallow area of water, with an average depth of only 18in, the tides can be tricky. “You get complex tides and winds — including a double high water — so you do have to know your way around. The harbour has changed enormously in the time I have been fowling, though,” Sean said, as he pointed out where the marsh had originally reached. Dredging practices as well as bait dragging have had their effect and, as in many coastal areas, the marsh is retreating. Having shot these waters since the age of 14, Sean knows the place intimately and had plenty of stories to tell.
It is remarkable that, with the amount of tourism in the area, the cross- channel ferries and the industrial interests (notably gas), the bays that the wildfowlers use are so unspoilt. Before heading out for the evening flight, I quizzed Mark and Sean about the future. “We have a good relationship with our neighbours. We are bordered by The National Trust, Natural England, English China Clay and the RSPB, and are working hard to maintain good links with these organisations. There is no access to the marshes on foot for those participating in wildfowling, which is why we do everything by boat. As a result, those areas we visit retain a very wild and inaccessible feel.”
The club has an energetic approach to attracting young members, which is paying off. Mark told me that the DWA is about to exchange contracts on an eight-acre parcel of land that will give the club access to inland flighting — this is aimed at encouraging young members.
Taking to the water
One young member that needs no encouragement is Ryan, Sean’s son, who took us out on the flight. Taking two boats into Ower Bay, one for Mark and his Novia Scotia duck tolling retriever, Tilley, and the other for us, Ryan was well prepared. Decoys, netting and posts were neatly stowed in the bottom of both boats. They may not have been traditional punts, but they had clearly both seen some service. This is Mark’s first season of fowling, so going out with a mentor like Ryan is par for the course. However, he has spent a lot of time in boats, so he and Tilley looked very contented setting off to lay their decoys. We did the same, Ryan kneeling on the back of the punt and pedalling us out to a likely looking spot, before tossing the decoys out in a loose formation and setting up the hide around the punt.
Then we settled down to wait. Egrets flapped about and the shrill cries of avocets could be heard. There was not a breath of wind. “Not much good for the birds,” Ryan said. “But we’d better get something. I’ll never live it down if we don’t!” Despite the lack of wind, a chill was setting in and the netting did little to shelter us from it. At least it was dry. Slowly the light leached out of the sky and we started picking up the sounds of moving fowl. The weeoo of wigeon made us both turn, peering into the shadows. Pulling out his call, Ryan whistled back. Weeeooo came the reply, though it did not get closer. “It sometimes sounds like they are having a whole conversation,” he said, lifting the call again. This time his efforts did have an effect, and a pair of wigeon whooshed over us, coming from my right. I fired, and missed. Ryan fired and missed. Both of us cursed.
“That is even worse than not seeing anything,” he said, gloomily. Another 15 minutes passed in silence, the bay quietening down, until the only sound was the slapping of the water against our punt. The wind had lifted ever so slightly, and in the distance the orange lights on the opposite shore might give us a good chance at seeing the silhouettes of duck coming in. Before I knew what was happening, a gentle splash in front of us alerted us to teal coming in to the decoys. A wigeon started to drop next and Ryan smoothly raised his gun and brought it down. This set up the teal nicely for me. I looked over at Ryan and could just about make out that he was as pleased as I was.
We waited another 10 minutes. This time a pair of teal crossed over, dropping as they spied the decoys. I missed with my first shot, but I took one with the second, while Ryan had seen another wigeon coming in and brought it splashing down into the water, followed not five minutes later by a teal.
“I’ll go and pick them up,” Ryan said, clambering out of the punt. “Keep an eye open for any others.” The wind had pushed our birds in towards us, so it was a simple matter to pick them. Minutes later, the birds collected, Ryan returned. The darkness had settled in and while more wildfowl might have dropped in to the decoys, it was time to call it a night.
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