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. 
