FIRST LESSON IN SEPTEMBER CONTINUED. “POINT” NOT RELINQUISHED FOR “DOWN CHARGE.”

259. Affection makes Dog anxious to please—when he rushes in to be dragged back.—260. Rule pressed.—261. Reason for Rule—Experience anticipated.—262. To “stand” far off—Pointer procuring shots at black game, but raising Grouse.—263. Patience enjoined—Not to part as enemies.—264. The first good point—Remain yourself stationary.—265. “Heading” Dog—Your circle to be wide. The first bird killed.—266. Finding dead bird, it being to Leeward.—267. Pointing it—Blinking it—The cause.—268. Woodcock lost from Dog not “pointing dead.”—269. Bird killed, the Dog to go to “heel.”—270. Supposed objection.—271. Answered.—272. Temptation to run after fallen bird greater than to run to “heel.”—273. Dog pointing one bird, and after “down charge” springing the others. The cause.—274. The preventive. Dog never to discontinue his point in order to “down charge.” How taught.—275. Its advantages exemplified.—276. Decide whether Dog goes direct to bird, or first to you.—277. Dog which performed well. Snipe-shooting on banks of Richlieu.—278. Coolness recommended. Inconsistency deprecated.

259. To proceed, however, with our imaginary September day’s work. I will suppose that your young dog has got upon birds, and that from his boldness and keenness in hunting you need not let him run riot on a haunt, as you were recommended (in 132), when you wished to give courage and animation to a timid dog. You must expect that his eagerness and delight will make him run in and flush them, even though you should have called out “Toho” when first you perceived his stern begin feathering, and thence judged that his olfactory nerves were rejoicing in the luxurious taint of game. Hollo out “Drop” most energetically. If he does not immediately lie down, crack your whip loudly to command greater attention. When you have succeeded in making him lie down, approach him quietly: be not angry with him, but yet be stern in manner. Grasping the skin of his neck, or what is better, putting your hand within his collar (for he ought to wear a light one), quietly drag him to the precise spot where you think he was first aware of the scent of the birds. There make him stand, (if stand he will, instead of timidly crouching), with his head directed towards the place from which the birds took wing, and by frequently repeating the word “Toho,” endeavour to make him understand that he ought to have pointed at that identical spot. Do not confuse him by even threatening to beat him. The chances are twenty to one that he is anxious to please you, but does not yet know what you wish. I assume also that he is attached to you, and his affection, from constantly inducing him to exert himself to give satisfaction, will greatly develop his observation and intelligence.

260. Consider it a golden rule never to be departed from (for I must again impress upon you a matter of such importance), invariably to drag a dog who has put up birds incautiously, or wilfully drawn too near them, and so sprung them (or, what is quite as bad,—though young sportsmen will not sufficiently think of it,—endangered their rising out of shot), to the exact spot at which you judge he ought to have pointed at first, and awaited your instructions.

261. Think for one moment what could be the use of chiding (or beating, as I have seen some * * * * * do) the poor animal at the spot where he flushed the birds. You are not displeased with him (or ought not to be) because the birds took wing,—for if they had remained stationary until he was within a yard of them, his fault would have been the same: nor are you angry with him because he did not catch them (which interpretation he might, as naturally as any other, put upon your rating him at the spot where he flushed them),—you are displeased with him for not having pointed at them steadily the moment he became sensible of their presence. This is what you wish him to understand, and this you can only teach him by dragging him, as has been so often said, to the spot at which he ought to have “toho-ed” them. Your object is to give the young dog by instruction, the caution that most old dogs have acquired by experience. Doubtless experience would in time convince him of the necessity of this caution; but you wish to save time,—to anticipate that experience; and by a judicious education impart to him knowledge which it would take him years to acquire otherwise. What a dog gains by experience is not what you teach him, but what he teaches himself.

262. Many carelessly-taught dogs will on first recognising a scent make a momentary point, and then slowly crawl on until they get within a few yards of the game,—if it be sufficiently complaisant to allow of such a near approach,—and there “set” as steady as a rock by the hour together. Supposing, however, that the birds are in an unfriendly distant mood, and not willing to remain on these neighbourly terms, “your game is up,” both literally and metaphorically,—you have no chance of getting a shot. This is a common fault among dogs hastily broken in the spring.

I speak feelingly on the subject from a still unpleasant recollection of my extreme vexation on a certain 20th of August,[43] when shooting over a young pointer bitch of excellent natural capabilities, but who had been injudiciously allowed, during her tuition in the spring, to stand too close to her birds. She was a quick ranger,—carried a high diligent nose,—had much endurance, and procured me several shots at young black game, but not one, if I remember right, at grouse. I was always aware when she first found, for her attitudes were fine and marked, but, in defiance of all my signals, and occasional calls, she would persist in creeping nearer, a proximity the grouse would not endure. As a violent jerk would not have been necessary, often did I wish that day, whenever she approached a likely spot, that it was in my power to attach to her collar a stiff thin checkcord about 100 yards long,[44] —such a one as would have been handed to me at a fishing-tackle shop on my asking for a strong hemp salmon line,—the kind used in former days after being soaked for weeks in oil,—now, however, considered heavy and unmanageable. A mild spiked collar applied as described in 302 to 304, would, I think, have noiselessly reclaimed her, without injuring my shooting.

263. But to resume our supposed lesson. You must not be in a hurry—keep your dog for some time—for a long time, where he should have pointed. You may even sit down alongside him. Be patient; you have not come out so much to shoot, as to break in your dog. When at length you give him the wave of the hand to hie him on to hunt, you must not part as enemies, though I do not say he is to be caressed. He has committed a fault, and he is to be made sensible of it by your altered manner.

264. Suppose that, after two or three such errors, all treated in the way described, he makes a satisfactory point. Hold up your right hand, and the moment you catch his eye, remain quite stationary, still keeping your arm up. Dogs, as has been already observed, are very imitative; and your standing stock-still will, more than anything else, induce him to be patient and immovable at his point. After a time (say five minutes if, from the hour of the day and the dog’s manner, you are convinced that the birds are not stirring), endeavour to get up to him so quietly as not to excite him to move. Whenever you observe him inclined to advance,—of which his lifting a foot or even raising a shoulder, or the agitation of his stern will be an indication,—stop for some seconds, and when by your raised hand you have awed him into steadiness, again creep on. Make your approaches within his sight, so that he may be intimidated by your eye and hand. If you succeed in getting near him without unsettling him, actually stay by him, as firm as a statue, for a quarter of an hour by one of Barwise’s best chronometers. Let your manner, which he will observe, show great earnestness. Never mind the loss of time. You are giving the dog a famous lesson, and the birds are kindly aiding you by lying beautifully and not shifting their ground.[45]

265. Now attempt a grand coup, in which if you are successful, you may almost consider your dog made staunch for ever. Keeping your eye on him, and your hand up (of course the right one), make a circuit, so that the birds shall be between him and you. Be certain that your circle is sufficiently wide,—if it is not, the birds may get up behind you, and so perplex him, that at his next find he will feel doubtful how to act. Fire at no skirter, or chance shot. Reserve yourself for the bird or birds at which he points; a caution more necessary on the moors than on the stubbles, as grouse spread while feeding. When you have well headed him, walk towards him and spring the birds. Use straight shooting-powder. Take a cool aim well forward, and knock down one. Do not flurry the dog by firing more than a single barrel, or confuse him by killing more than one bird. If you have been able to accomplish all this without his stirring (though, to effect it, you may have been obliged to use your voice), you have every right to hope, from his previous education, that he will readily “down charge” on hearing the report of your gun. Do not hurry your loading:—indeed, be unnecessarily long, with the view of making him at all such times patient and steady. If, in spite of all your calls and signals, he gives chase to the sprung birds, make him “drop,”—instantly if possible,—and proceed much as described in 259, dragging him back to the place where he should have “down charged.”

266. When you have loaded, say, “Dead,”[46] in a low voice, and signalling to “heel” make him come up to you, yourself keeping still. By signs (xi. of 141) place him as near as you can, but to leeward of the dead bird. Then, and not till then, say, “Find;” give him no other assistance. Let him have plenty of time to make out the bird. It is not to be find and grip, but find and point,[47] therefore the moment you perceive he is aware that it is before him, make him (by word of command) “toho:”—go up to him, stay for a while alongside him, then make a small circuit to head him, and have the bird between you and him; approach him. If he attempt to dash in, thunder out “No,” and greet him with at least the sound of the whip: slowly pick up the dead bird; call the dog to you; show him the bird; but on no account throw it to him, lest he snatch at it; lay it on the ground, encourage him to sniff it; let him (for reason why see 313) turn it over with his nose,—teeth closed,—say to him, “Dead, dead;” caress him; sit down; smooth the feathers of the bird; let him perceive that you attach much value to it; and after a while loop it on the game-bag, allowing him all the time to see what you are doing. After that, make much of him for full five minutes: indeed with some dogs it would be advisable to give a palatable reward, but be not invariably very prodigal of these allurements; you may have a pupil whose attention they might engross more than they ought. Then walk about a little time with him at your heels. All this delay and caressing will serve to show him that the first tragedy is concluded, and has been satisfactorily performed. You may now hie him on to hunt for more birds.

267. Pray mind what is said about making your youngster point the dead bird staunchly, the moment you perceive that he first scents it. Should he be allowed to approach so near as to be able to touch it (instead of being made to point the instant he finds), the chances are, that, if hard-mouthed he will give it a crunch, if tender-mouthed a fumbling of the feathers; and either proceeding satisfying him, that he will quit it, and not further aid you in a search. As “pointing” is only a natural pause (prolonged by art) to determine exactly where the game is lying, preparatory to rushing forward to seize, it would be unreasonable to expect him willingly to make a second point at game he has not only found but mouthed:—the evil, however, does not rest here. There is such a disagreeable thing as blinking a dead bird, no less than blinking a sound one. For mouthing the bird you may possibly beat the dog, or for nosing it and not pointing you may rate him harshly, either of which, if he be not of a bold disposition, may lead, on the next occasion, to his slinking off after merely obtaining a sniff. You ought, in fact, to watch as carefully for your pupil’s first “feathering” upon the dead bird, as you did (259) upon his first coming upon the covey. You see, then, that your teaching him to “point dead” is absolutely indispensable; unless, indeed, you constantly shoot with a retriever. Pointing at a live bird or at a dead one, should only differ in this, that in the latter case the dog makes a nearer point. Begin correctly, and you will not have any difficulty; but you may expect the greatest, if you let your dog go up to one or two birds and mouth them, before you commence making him point them. The following season, should you then permit him to lift his game (538), it will be time enough to dispense with his “pointing dead.” I dwell upon this subject because many excellent dogs, from not having been properly taught to “point dead,” often fail in securing the produce of a successful shot, while, on the contrary, with judiciously educated dogs it rarely happens that any of the slain or wounded are left on the field. Moreover, the protracted search and failure (as an instance see 314) occasions a lamentable loss of time. Were a sportsman who shoots over dogs not well broken to “point dead” (or retrieve) to calculate accurately, watch in hand, he would, I think, be surprised to find how many of his best shooting hours are wasted in unprofitable searching for birds, of the certainty of whose untimely fate his dogs had probably long before fully convinced themselves.

268. I was shooting some seasons back where woodcocks, being scarce, are considered great prizes. If one is sprang, the pheasants are immediately neglected, and every exertion is made to secure the rara avis. We flushed one; at length it was killed; it fell in thick cover,—was found by a setter (a feather or two in his mouth betraying him); but as the dog had not been properly taught to “point dead,” we were obliged to leave the bird behind, after spending nearly half an hour in a fruitless search.

269. As to the word “Dead,” whether you choose to continue using it immediately after loading, or, as I have recommended (xi. of 141), after a time omit it, and merely let the signal to “heel” intimate that you have killed, always make your dog go to you before you allow him to seek for the fallen bird.

270. Some may say, “As a dog generally sees a bird fall, what is the use of calling him to you before you let him seek?—and even if he does not see the bird, why should any time be lost? Why should not you and he go as direct to it as you can?”

271. Provided you have no wish that the “finder” (see 541), rather than any of his companions, should be allowed the privilege of “seeking dead,” I must admit that in the cultivated lands of England, when a dog “sees a bird fall,” he might in nine cases out of ten go direct to it without inconvenience. Even here, however, there are occasions when intervening obstacles may prevent your observing what the dog is about; and in cover, so far from being able to give him any assistance by signaling, you may be ignorant whether or not he has seen the bird knocked over, or is even aware of the general direction in which he ought to seek. But in the oft-occurring cases in which “he does not see the bird fall,” it is obvious (particularly when he happens to be at the extremity of his beat), that you will far more quickly place him where you wish, if you make him, at first, run up to you, and then advance from you, straight to the bird, by your forward signal (277). These good results at least will follow, if you remain stationary, and make him join you. You do not lose sight of the spot where you marked that the bird or birds fell. The foil is not interfered with by your walking over the ground (a matter of much importance, especially on bad scenting days). The dog, if habituated to “seek” without your companionship, will readily hunt morasses and ravines, where you might find it difficult to accompany him. He will feel the less free to follow his own vagaries; and this consciousness of subjection will dispose him to pay more watchful attention to your signals. He will the more patiently wait at the “down charge;” and when you are reloaded will not be so tempted to dash recklessly after the bird, regardless whether or not he raises others on the way. If he is dragging a cord, you can the more easily take hold of its end, in order to check him, and make him point when he first winds the dead bird,—and should you be shooting over several dogs, by none of them being permitted to run direct to the fallen bird, they will the less unwillingly allow you to select the one who is to approach close to you before “seeking dead.”

272. The opponents of this method argue, that the practice may give the dog the bad habit of running immediately after the “down charge” to the gun, instead of recommencing to hunt; particularly if he is shot over by a first-rate performer. Granted; but is not the temptation to bolt off in search of a dead bird still stronger? To check the former evil, endeavour to make the coming to “heel” an act of obedience rather than a voluntary act, by never failing, as soon as you are reloaded, to give the customary signal (viii. of 141) when you have killed, or the signal to “hie on” should you have missed.

273. Moreover, you will sometimes meet with a dog who, when a bird has been fired at, though it be the first and only one sprung of a large covey, commences “seeking dead” immediately after the “down charge,” apparently considering that his first duty. This sad, sad fault—for it frequently leads to his raising the other birds out of shot—is generally attributable to the dog’s having been allowed to rush at the fallen bird, instead of being, accustomed to the restraint of having first to run up to the gun.

274. To prevent your pupil from ever behaving so badly, often adopt the plan of not “seeking dead” immediately after loading, especially if the birds are lying well. Mark accurately the spot where your victim lies, and closely hunt for others, endeavouring to instil great caution into the dog, much in the manner (being guided by his disposition and character) described in 196, 197, and 329. As long as any of the covey remain unsprung, you ought not to pick up one dead bird, though you should have a dozen on the ground. Your dog ought not even to “down charge” after you have fired, if he is fully aware that more birds are before him. To impart to him the knowledge that, however important is the “down charge,” his continuing at his point is still more so, you may, when the birds are lying well and he is at a fixed point, make your attendant discharge a gun at a little distance while you remain near the dog, encouraging him to maintain his “toho.” If you have no attendant, and the birds lie like stones, fire off a barrel yourself while the dog is steadily pointing.[48] He will fancy you see birds which he has not noticed, and, unless properly tutored and praised by you, will be desirous to quit those he has found, to search for the bird he conceives you have shot.

275. It is a fine display of intelligence in the dog, and of judicious training in the breaker (may it be your desert and reward ere long to witness it in your pupil), when a pointer (or setter) in goodly turnips or strong potatoes draws upon birds which obligingly rise one after the other, while by continuing his eloquent attitude he assures you that some still remain unsprung, to which he is prepared to lead you, if you will but attend to them and him, and, instead of pot-hunting after those you have killed, wait until his discriminating nose informs him that having no more strangers to introduce, he is at liberty to assist you in your search.

276. To revert, however, to the point particularly under discussion, viz., whether you prefer that your dog go direct to the fallen bird, or (as I strongly recommend) that he first join you, pray be consistent; exact which you will, but always exact the same, if you are anxious to obtain cheerful unhesitating obedience.

277. I have seen the advantage of the latter method very strikingly exemplified in America, in parts of which there is capital snipe-shooting. In the high grass and rushes on the banks of the Richelieu, many a bird have I seen flushed and shot at, of which the liver and white pointer, ranging at a little distance, has known nothing. As he was well broken in, he, of course, dropped instantly, on hearing the report of the gun. If the bird had fallen, his master, after reloading, used invariably to say “Dead,”[49] in a low tone of voice, on which the dog would go up to him; and then his master, without stirring from the spot where he had fired, directed him by signals to the place where the bird fell, to reach which the dog often had to swim the stream. His master then said “Find.” At that word, and not before it, his intelligent four-footed companion commenced searching for the bird, nor did he ever fail to find and bring; and so delicate was his mouth that I have often seen him deliver up a bird perfectly alive, without having deranged a feather, though, very probably, he had swam with it across one of the many creeks which intersect that part of the country. If the shot was a miss, his master’s silence after reloading, and a wave of his arm to continue hunting (or the command to “Hie on,” if the dog was hidden by the rushes—perhaps a low whistle would have been better), fully informed his companion of the disappointment. He was quite as good on the large quail, and small woodcock found in Canada, which latter makes a ringing noise on rising, not unlike the sound of a distant soft bell; but reminiscences of that capital old dog are leading me away from your young one.

278. For some days you cannot shoot to your pupil too steadily and quietly—I had well-nigh said too slowly. By being cool, calm, and collected yourself, you will make him so. I am most unwilling to think that you will be too severe, but I confess I have my misgivings lest you should occasionally overlook some slight faults in the elation of a successful right and left. Filling the game-bag must be quite secondary to education. Never hesitate to give up any bird if its acquisition interfere with a lesson. Let all that you secure be done according to rule, and in a sportsmanlike manner.