The young pheasants (poults) arrive in late August, but the date is unpredictable, as the first three days of their stay are key. If it is bad weather, they will be reluctant to feed, and will become susceptible to disease. If predators are constantly present in and around the pen, then again they will not feed, and the stress will only exacerbate their problems. After this initial period, they are still vulnerable, but will have recovered from the journey and will be a little more settled. As with all animals, the more mature they become, the more their chance of survival.

Over the ensuing weeks, the pens will be visited at least twice daily. The visitors (Mark, or the two other workers on the estate, the farmer and his assistant) make the same whistling noises every time, so the poults become accustomed to the noise and associate it with food and safety. This is something that comes in handy later in the year - Mark’s whistling easing their concerns, before they are pushed over waiting guns.

They are released into the ticker parts of the pens - where it is safer and there is more shelter.

Shooting alone is something of a controversy. To those who know it and approve, it is lauded as a privilege and a right. To those outside of this circle, it can seem a ‘sport for toffs’ and is derided for its perceived privileged status and, most of all, that it is a cruel activity.

In comparison to the whole of the meat-eating industry, shooting pheasants for food is arguably one of the least cruel (assuming those shooting do so competently). In principal, shooting for your own food is something to be encouraged - if you’re going to eat meat, why not know exactly where it has come from? A well-shot pheasant will have had a considerably better life than any battery-farmed hen.

The ‘snob’ element is more complex, and it comes alongside the realisation that rural issues have immense socio-political implications. Those involved in shooting actually make up a variety of backgrounds and interests, it’s just the gun-holding proportion have a lot more money - shooting is prohibitively expensive.

Every effort is made to keep threats away. This scarecrow mainly for sparrowhawks, but will scare off most aerial predators.

History shows that shooting, especially on larger estates, was something of a jewel in the crown of a landowner, and symbolic of status. The more pheasants, partridge and grouse you could produce for shooting, the better. It would come at great expense so it is a real show of wealth and power to friends. It was a boast, as Dr Adam Smith of the Game & Wildlife Conservation Trust (GWCT), told me, “Grouse moors and deer forests were to a certain extent a display of one’s public wealth. They existed at least partly to demonstrate that one was so rich one could can stand under a cold shower tearing up money”.

The pens are as much to keep the poults safe from predation as to avoid letting them escape.

Pheasant shooting goes back a long way in UK history, and it is deeply engrained in rural life. Contrary to popular belief, beating, dog handling and shooting are participated in by all strata of society (albeit somewhat imbalanced), and there is the hard fact that it creates all manner of jobs from gun and ammunition manufacturers to dog handlers, pheasant rearers and, of course, keepers.

So it is a potential force for good, especially if it is with the intent of a meal. This is not consistently the case though. It is overexploited in parts, with some shoots bordering on the grotesque. I cannot begin to imagine what the justification for a 4 figure bird day’s shooting is. It is big business, but money cannot be justification for ecological excesses such as these. Restaurants don’t even want the shot pheasants as there is danger of feeding customers lead shot, and the same goes for supermarkets and other potential outlets. Rumour has it that a lot of stock is sent abroad, or worse, not used for food at all.

An unnatural amount of shelter is required to house an unnatural number of pheasants.

These particular pheasants will be shot in late December over the course of three days. The excess pheasants are given to the local community, along with any venison to people who have been helping out. The number of pheasants shot is a lot less than the big commercial shoots – in the 100-150 range a day, and still they have sufficient to give them away. Imagine scaling that up by ten.

The step-change in agrictulture in the 20th century was such that, were it not for shooting interests, a lot of woodland would have been uprooted for other more profitable uses. Even some creation of new woodland has been credited to shooting, so there is actually some benefit to the ecosystem in this respect.

The £30/40 per bird in the air (paid by those shooting) pays for a lot more than sport. It goes into paying for the pheasants, their feed, the pens, preserving woodland, preserving areas from more intensive and more damaging farming interests. Without this input, where would the money go? What would happen to this pseudo-conservational intent? It doesn’t really matter, it definitely wouldn’t be there though, there would be somewhere else for the money. It would mean leaving these woodland areas and hedgerows, game crops and attendant jobs redundant, making way for other uses. The first to suffer would not be the pheasants (as foreign species, technically they wouldn’t be of much concern anyway); it would be the local wildlife that rely on the habitats preserved for sheltering game. This land is not publicly owned, and no government, be it local or national, will be prepared to fill the financial gap that shooting pays for. Furthermore, this money would not end up in the hands of the likes of the RSPB or similar charitable conservation bodies. Their work would still be invaluable, but shooting would constitute a great financial loss.

Thorn is always at Mark's side. He is only six months old but is already trained to carefully herd the young escaped poults back into the pens.

There is real room for improvement in the world of shooting, and excess is something to be strongly discouraged. As they are so closely tied to and affected by the habits and desires of their employers, it is in the long term interests of gamekeepers to curb these massive shoots.

The next post, Chapter 3: Trapping - it's like they're stealing, will be posted on this blog on Saturday 19th January 10.30am. To buy a copy of the book for £25 contact me.

Is this photo telling you anything at all?

In my last post I discussed the industrialisation of wildlife photography, the need for context, and how the market is struggling to move forward artistically. This post is more to do with how the technology is integral to the changes, and I look at comparisons between shooting and wildlife photography.

The technological advances are not to be underestimated; they are responsible for great leaps of change in photography. In 1987 Canon introduced the EF mount, a whole new system, with which came the "Four White Lenses of the Apocalypse". These were the first and fastest autofocus super-telephoto lenses, and marked the starting point in the surge in new technology, turning Nikon from market leader into also-ran for many years.

From that point and from the point of the introduction of digital cameras, the technology has flourished. Now we find ourselves in a position that relatively unpracticed photographers can produce images of startling sharpness, displaying apparent technical prowess. The (sometimes) insurmountable challenges of photography of yesteryear are suddenly very approachable, to say nothing of the simplicity post-processing techniques.

One might imagine that this would inspire a new breadth of creative photography, the barriers to entry being lower in terms of skill (albeit higher in terms of cash), but sadly it seems this is not the case. The legends from before are still successful, even more so now they can really push the boundaries of their vision, and the newcomers want to be the legends. The newcomers are making amateur mistakes though - emulating the pioneering old pros. This isn't pioneering any more; this is pandering to expectations of the paying workshop customer.

We need a new wave of wildlife photographers, we don't need another line of people who are chasing the visions of established photographers who, frankly, can do it better. If and when they achieve that skill level, the realisation will come that most of the photos they are chasing have already been taken - what does that say for an artistic (yes it is artistic) endeavour?

This is the key with wildlife photography. Much of it is not a creative entity at the moment, but a recording one. It used to be the overcoming of the elements to bring us something amazing, maybe something we've never seen before. Not only that, but it was also perfectly composed, focussed, beautifully lit, in the most adverse of conditions. This is no longer enough, simply because most of it's been done already.

Formerly the demand for new imagery was voracious, this is now dwindling, partially because people can get these images themselves - they can pay for the elusive experience as well. To quote Pete Cairns on his Northshots Blog (quoting another photographer Danny Green from a while back), "wildlife photography will be the new golf".

Killing aside, and in terms of the surge of amateurs, I argue that it is the new shooting and hunting. We control and cajole local species into being more numerous, then set up permanent structures within their ecosystem to take our trophy. The animal isn't killed of course, but the action of photographing and the build up to making that opportunity happen is such that it totally undermines the 'wild'ness that the image is communicating. The paying customers are complicit in the control and domination, undermining themselves in one click.

What's more is the new amateur paying public is startlingly similar to those who took up shooting after the invention of the shotgun. Shooting was initially something for only the skilled as the guns were hard to use and dangerous, making successes few and far between. Shooting was really for food, with a few skilled enthusiasts in there. The inventions of the shotgun made all this relatively easy, and, coupled with the major commercialisation of shooting after the Highland Clearances, a fresh influx of interest, money and people flooded into rural UK. In some cases railways were constructed across Scotland with stations right outside the gate of the shooting estates, delivering paying clients from London. This commercialisation was the starting point in the disastrous proliferation of shooting to far far beyond the requirements of food into grotesque slaughters, and it has had profound effect on the landscape (for better or for worse, but this is to be discussed another time).

Of course I'm not claiming that wildlife photography is going to do the same, but I am lamenting the commercialisation, something that can take on a life of its own and can eventually be taken far and beyond the control of those interested in preserving the ecosystem for the ecosystem's sake.

Estates are now looking to exploit growing interests in photography and want to run workshops, the once pioneering industry is being taken over by business, integrating green initiatives with public demand. Taking the photograph has become a more authentic experience than the experience itself. The chance encounter of a predator isn’t interesting; it is too much of a risk to not see it - we are results (trophy?) driven nowadays. Clients want the best chance to see the animal but they won't spend the time and effort, they want someone else to prepare it first.

Of course this means that the quality of the equipment used bears on the process as well. There are nearly as many posts on blogs about equipment as about the imagery - what does that say for an ecological movement?

I can't tell the difference between the images taken on a Nikon D4 or a Canon 1d-X, no more than I would ever be able to afford one. Nor would I care - there is too much airtime given to such discussions, we'd all be far better off talking about the images. The same goes for many high-end cameras, often made famous by the professionals. Think of Leica, made famous by photojournalists worldwide - Salgado, Cartier-Bresson, Capa, all Time Magazine photographers, Tom Stoddart to pick a few off the top of my head - that now costs £15,000 for a top end body/lens set up, and most of these old pros used at least two with more lenses spare. So who on earth is buying these cameras now, and why?! Doctors, lawyers, bankers? Where do the photographers fit in? What's our contribution?

Our contribution will be the time we can give, the intellectual interrogation of our images and the images of our peers. Our attention is required at the cutting edge of an ever-growing medium; critical awareness and a healthy cynicism are absolutely key.

Wildphotos is coming up. This is the big annual conference on wildlife photography, with photographers from all the world's wild places. It is self-congratulatory across the board, sometimes where they are due, sometimes where they might no longer be due. It doesn't ask the awkward questions of photographic intent and meaning. It claims realism in a medium where we simply aren't getting enough of the whole picture. The picture is real, the context is often not. Although there will be inspiring photography, it sits very uncomfortably under the weakest of questioning.

Wildlife photography is beguilingly beautiful, but beware lack of context.

Game Chapter 2: Pheasants

Wildlife Photography Part 2/2: Technological Advances and The Rise of the Amateur