Peter Wilson MBE needs little introduction. The 38-year-old Olympic gold medallist from London 2012 has built an extraordinary career that bridges the worlds of clay and game shooting. Speaking from his Dorset farm, while taking a short break from coaching India’s Olympic trap team, he offers fascinating insights into his journey.
I’m a dad, a farmer, an Olympic shooting coach, a trader, and I was a competitive clay shot. My wife Michelle and I have two daughters – Robin (Bobby), almost seven, and Etta, five. The farm is half horses and half organic dairy, which keeps me busy when I’m not in India or building farm tracks.
My dad introduced me, though he wasn’t overly keen at first because my family bred racehorses. He would go game shooting a few times a year locally, and I always wanted to join him. Eventually, I persuaded him to let me go beating when I was about 10. Soon I was shooting air rifles and a .410. I moved quickly to a 20-bore, then a 16-bore, and finally a 12-bore, where I found my rhythm.
The clay shooting came later, as a way to improve my game shooting. Walking hedgerows with Dad, spaniels in between, shooting rabbits and the occasional pheasant, I wanted to make the most of every chance to pull the trigger.
At Millfield School, I worked into the first shooting team. It taught me that hard work is essential to succeed. Sheikh Ahmed Al Maktoum, who coached me later, saw that determination. I’ve always been a perfectionist – whether building a farm track or competing on the range. Second place was never good enough. For me, only winning mattered.
I even threw away medals that weren’t gold. The only one I kept was from South America, which won me my Olympic quota place for London 2012.
I helped Nathan in the crucial build-up years. The difference between being very good and winning Olympic gold is tiny. I asked him to try unusual drills, like shooting a registered event in England single barrel. Painful as it was, it paid off. In the end, he got it.
I started in April. India is one of the world’s largest shotgun shooting nations, but underachieving. I want them to accept where they are, lose the ego, and embrace new methods. I ask them to try uncomfortable drills – like single-barrel competitions – to prepare for Olympic pressure. They’re starting to understand it.
No, just training. To be an effective coach, I have to shoot, but I’m not competing.
We’ve had a fallow year. Dad, who is the gamekeeper, had knee surgery. I’ve been abroad a lot, and bird flu is close by. Normally, we run a small family shoot: four drives, six guns, and a long boozy lunch. On a good day, we might shoot 80. On a bad one, 20. I also share a gun at a small shoot near Sherborne – about 60-80 bird days. Hopefully, I’ll be home for them. Dad hopes I won’t, so he can take my days!
It’s all about shooting with good, like-minded people. They don’t all have to be close friends – sometimes shooting with new people is the real treat.
This baffles me. In Olympic trap, every technical advantage matters. But most game shooters use traditional over-and-unders, even when there are huge advantages available – like barrels that reduce recoil.
To me, it’s like entering Formula One with a Rolls-Royce. Beautiful, yes, but not competitive. Surely game shots should want to be as effective and clean as possible.
My grandfather, Frank Wilson. I never met him, but I’ve heard so much. I’d love to share a peg with him, even though he was apparently a dreadful shot. I’d happily back gun him!
I have OCD. I even saw a doctor about it. But it helped me win Olympic gold because my “no stone unturned” mindset gave me the edge. Everything has to be just so. It isn’t always easy to live with, but it became my superpower.