Lamping.
Ooo brings back memories. I used to set snares too. I also have fond memories of traipsing across ploughed fields whose ridges and furrows were frozen solid, sprained ankles abounded but then so did loads of wood pigeons.
I also did my fair share of picking up windfalls from cold wet/frosty grass. My parents made gallons of homemade wine.
Come to think of it the grumpy old git that was my father always lost his car keys on bonfire night I wonder why that was.
