FIRST LESSONS IN SEPTEMBER CONTINUED. CAUTION.—NATURE’S MYSTERIOUS INFLUENCES.

190. Dog to be hunted alone.—191. Many Breakers exactly reverse this; it expedites an inferior education, but retards a superior.—192. Turnips, Potatoes, &c., avoided. Range of Dogs broken on moors most true.—193. In Turnips, &c., young Dogs get too close to birds.—194. Cautious Dogs may with advantage be as fast as wild ones; the two contrasted; in Note, injudiciousness of teaching A Puppy to “point” Chickens.—195. Instance of a Dog’s running to “heel,” but not “blinking,” on finding himself close to birds.—196. A Dog’s Nose cannot be improved, but his caution can, which is nearly tantamount; how effected.—197. How to make fast Dogs cautious.—198. The cause why wild Dogs ultimately turn out best.—199. Dog tumbling over and pointing on his Back.—200. Dog pointing on top of high-log Fence at quail in tree; in Note, Militia Regiment that sought safety by taking to Trees.—201. The day’s Beat commenced from leeward.—202. Wondrous Dogs, which find Game without hunting.—203. Colonel T——y’s opinion.—204 to 209. His dog “Grouse,” that walked up direct to her Game.—210. “Grouse’s” portrait.—211 to 213. Probable solution of “Grouse’s” feat; in Note, why high nose finds most game.—214. Reason why Dogs should be instructed separately, and allowed Time to work out a Scent; young dogs generally too much hurried.—215. Mysterious Influences.—216. Retriever that runs direct to hidden object.—217. Not done by nose.—218. Newfoundland that always swam back to his own Ship.—219. Another that did the same.—220. Now belongs to the Duke of N——k.—221. Cats and Dogs carried off in baskets, finding their way back; Nature’s Mysteries inexplicable. In Note, instance of extraordinary memory in a Horse.

190. If it is your fixed determination to confirm your dog in the truly-killing range described in the last Chapter, do not associate him for months in the field with another dog, however highly broken. It would be far better to devote but two hours per diem to your pupil exclusively, than to hunt him the whole day with a companion.

191. Many breakers do exactly the reverse of this. They take out an old steady ranger, with the intention that he shall lead the young dog, and that the latter, from imitation and habit, shall learn how to quarter his ground. But what he gains by imitation will so little improve his intellects, that, when thrown upon his own resources, he will prove a miserable finder. On a hot, dry day he will not be able to make out a feather, nor on any day to “foot” a delicate scent. I grant that the plan expedites matters, and attains the end which most professional trainers seek; but it will not give a dog self-confidence and independence, it will not impart to him an inquiring nose, and make him rely on its sensitiveness to discover game, rather than to his quickness of eye to detect when his friend touches upon a haunt; nor will it instruct him to look from time to time towards the gun for directions. It may teach him a range, but not to hunt where he is ordered; nor will it habituate him to vary the breadth of the parallels on which he works, according as his master may judge it to be a good or bad scenting day.

192. To establish the rare, noble beat I am recommending,—one not hereafter to be deranged by the temptation of a furrow in turnips or potatoes,—you must have the philosophy not to hunt your dog in them until he is accustomed in his range to be guided entirely by the wind and your signals, and is in no way influenced by the nature of the ground. Even then it would be better not to beat narrow strips across which it would be impossible for him to make his regular casts. Avoid, too, for some time, if you can, all small fields (which will only contract his range), and all fields with trenches or furrows, for he will but too naturally follow them instead of paying attention to his true beat. Have you never, in low lands, seen a young dog running down a potato or turnip trench, out of which his master, after much labour, had no sooner extracted him than he dropped into the adjacent one? It is the absence of artificial tracks which makes the range of nearly all dogs well broken on the moors so much truer than that of dogs hunted on cultivated lands.

193. Moreover, in turnips, potatoes, clover, and the like thick shelter, birds will generally permit a dog to approach so closely, that if he is much accustomed to hunt such places, he will be sure to acquire the evil habit of pressing too near his game when finding on the stubbles (instead of being startled as it were into an instantaneous stop the moment he first winds game), and thus raise many a bird out of gun-shot that a cautious dog,—one who slackens his pace the instant he judges that he is beating a likely spot,—would not have alarmed.

194. “A cautious dog”! Can there well be a more flattering epithet?[29] Such a dog can hardly travel too fast[30] in a tolerably open country, where there is not a superabundance of game, if he really hunt with an inquiring nose;—but to his master what an all-important “if” is this! It marks the difference between the sagacious, wary, patient, yet diligent animal, whose every sense and every faculty is absorbed in his endeavour to make out birds, not for himself but for the gun, and the wild harum-scarum who blunders up three-fourths of the birds he finds. No! not finds, but frightens,—for he is not aware of their presence until they are on the wing, and seldom points unless he gets some heedless bird right under his nose, when an ignoramus, in admiration of the beauty of the dog’s sudden attitude, will often forget the mischief which he has done.

195. Nature gives this caution to some dogs at an early age. A clergyman of my acquaintance, Mr. G. M——t, a keen sportsman in his younger days, told me that when he was partridge-shooting once in Essex, a favourite pointer of his, that was ranging at a rapid pace alongside a thick hedge, coming suddenly upon an opening where there should have been a gate, instantly wheeled round and ran to heel, and then commenced carefully advancing with a stiffened stern towards the gap; and so led his master up to live birds which were lying close to it, but on the further side. Evidently the cautious dog,—for he was no blinker,—on so unexpectedly finding himself in such close vicinity to the covey, must have fancied that his presence would alarm them, however motionless he might remain.

196. Though you cannot improve a dog’s nose, you can do what is really tantamount to it—you can increase his caution. By watching for the slightest token of his feathering, and then calling out “Toho,” or making the signal, you will gradually teach him to look out for the faintest indication of a scent, and point the instant he winds it, instead of heedlessly hunting on until he meets a more exciting effluvia. (See 259 to 261, also 329.) If from a want of animation in his manner you are not able to judge of the moment when he first winds game, and therefore are unable to call out “Toho” until he gets close to birds, quietly pull him back from his point “dead to leeward” for some paces, and there make him resume his point. Perseverance in this plan will ultimately effect your wishes, unless his nose be radically wrong. A dog’s pointing too near his game more frequently arises from want of caution,—in other words, from want of good instruction,—than from a defective nose.

197. Slow dogs readily acquire this caution; but fast dogs cannot be taught it without great labour. You have to show them the necessity of diminishing their pace, that their noses may have fair play. If you have such a pupil to instruct, when you get near birds you have marked down, signal to him to come to “heel.” Whisper to him “Care,” and let him see by your light, slow tread your anxiety not to alarm the game. If he has never shown any symptoms of blinking, you may, a few times, thus spring the birds yourself while you keep him close to you. On the next occasion of marking down birds, or coming to a very likely spot, bring him into “heel,” and after an impressive injunction to take “care,” give him two or three very limited casts to the right or left, and let him find the game while you instruct him as described in 329. As there will be no fear of such a dog making false points, take him often to the fields where he has most frequently met birds. The expectation of again coming on them, and the recollection of the lectures he there received, will be likely to make him cautious on entering it. I remember a particular spot in a certain field that early in the season constantly held birds. A young dog I then possessed never approached it afterwards without drawing upon it most carefully, though he had not found there for months. At first I had some difficulty in preventing the “draw” from becoming a “point.”

198. I have elsewhere observed that fast dogs, which give most trouble in breaking, usually turn out best. Now if you think for a moment you will see the reason plainly. A young dog does not ultimately become first-rate because he is wild and headstrong, and regardless of orders, but because his speed and disobedience arise from his great energies,—from his fondness for the sport; from his longing to inhale the exhilarating scent and pursue the flying game. It is the possession of these qualities that makes him, in his anxious state of excitement, blind to your signals and deaf to your calls. These obviously are qualities that, under good management,[31] lead to great excellence and superiority,—that make one dog do the work of two. But they are not qualities sought for by an idle or incompetent breaker. He would prefer the kind of dog mentioned in 280, and boast much of the ability he had displayed in training him. These valuable qualities in the fast dog, must, however, be accompanied by a searching nose. It is not enough that a dog be always apparently hunting, that is to say, always on the gallop—his nose should always be hunting. When this is the case (and you may be pretty certain it is if, as he crosses the breeze, his nose has intuitively a bearing to windward), you need not fear that he will travel too fast, or not repay you ultimately for the great extra trouble caused by his high spirits and ardour for the sport.

199. The Rev. Mr. M——t (spoken of in 195) had one of these valuable, fast, but cautious dogs. The dog, in leaping over a stile that led from an orchard and crowned a steep bank, accidentally tumbled head over heels. He rolled to the bottom of the bank, and there remained motionless on his back. Mr. M——t went up in great distress, fancying his favourite must have been seriously injured. However, on his approaching the dog, up sprung some partridges, which, it appears, the careful animal must have winded, and fearing to disturb, would not move a muscle of his body, for happily he was in no way hurt by the fall.

200. I was shooting in the upper provinces of Canada over a young dog, who suddenly checked himself and came to a stiff “set” on the top of a high zigzag log fence. I could not believe that he was cunning enough to do this for the purpose of deceiving me, because I was rating him for quitting the field before me; and yet why should he be pointing in mid-air as rigidly as if carved in stone? On my going up the enigma was solved, by a bevy of quail flying out of a neighbouring tree.[32] It is said they often take to them in America: but this was the only instance I ever saw. But we will now hark back to your pup, which, for your sake, I wish may turn out as cautious a dog.

201. You have been recommended invariably to enter every field by the leeward side. This you can generally accomplish with ease, if you commence your day’s beat to leeward. Should circumstances oblige you to enter a field on the windward side, make it a rule, as long as your dog continues a youngster, to call him to “heel,” and walk down the field with him until you get to the opposite side (the leeward),—then hunt him regularly up to windward.

202. I have read wondrous accounts of dogs, who, without giving themselves the trouble of quartering their ground, would walk straight up to the birds if there were any in the field. It has never been my luck, I do not say to have possessed such marvellous animals, but even to have been favoured with a sight of them. I therefore am inclined to think that, let your means be what they may, you would find it better not to advertise for creatures undoubtedly most rare, but to act upon the common belief that, as the scent of birds, more or less, impregnates the air, no dog, let his nose be ever so fine, can, except accidentally, wind game unless he seek for the taint in the air,—and that the dog who regularly crosses the wind must have a better chance of finding it, than he who only works up wind,—and that down wind he can have little other chance than by “roading.”

203. Thus had I written, for such was my opinion, but Colonel T——y, mentioned in 99, having seen the preceding paragraph, in the first edition, spoke to me on the subject, and, as he thinks such a dog occasionally may be found, and gave good reasons for so believing, I begged him to commit the singular facts to paper; for I felt it a kind of duty to give my readers the most accurate information in my power on a matter of such interest. He writes:—

204. “I should like to show you the portrait of a favourite old pointer of mine, who certainly had the gift of walking up straight to her birds without, apparently, taking the trouble of looking for them, and about which I see you are naturally somewhat sceptical. It was in this wise:—

205. “I had gone down into Wales, with my Norfolk pointers, in order to commit great slaughter upon some packs of grouse frequenting the moors belonging to my brother-in-law; my dogs, I think, were fair average ones, but the three did not find so many birds, I was going to say, in a week as old ‘Grouse’ (the pointer alluded to) did in a day. She had been, previous to my arrival, a sort of hanger-on about the stables,—gaining a scanty subsistence by foraging near the house,—until she was four years old, without ever having been taken to the adjoining moor, at least, in a regular way.

206. “One morning as I was riding up to the moor she followed me; happening to cast my eyes to the right I saw her pointing very steadily in a batch of heather not far from a young plantation. I rode up, and a pack of grouse rose within twenty yards. This induced me to pay more attention to my four-footed companion; and the result was, that in a week’s time the Norfolk pointers were shut up in the kennel, and the neglected ‘Grouse’ became my constant associate. A more eccentric animal, however, cannot well be conceived. She hunted just what ground she liked—paid no attention whatever to call or whistle—would have broken the hearts of a dozen Norfolk keepers, by the desperate manner in which she set all rules for quartering at defiance,—but she found game with wonderful quickness, and in an extraordinary manner. She seemed, in fact, to have the power of going direct to where birds lay, without taking the preliminary trouble of searching for them; and, when the packs of grouse were wild, I have seen her constantly leave her point, make a wide circuit, and come up in such direction as to get them between herself and me.

“She was, in every way, a most singular creature. No one did she regard as her master:—no one would she obey. She showed as little pleasure when birds fell, as disappointment when they flew away; but continued her odd, eccentric movements until she became tired or birds scarce, and then quietly trotted home, totally regardless of my softest blandishments or my fiercest execrations.

208. “She was beautifully-shaped, with round well-formed feet, her forehead prominent, and her nostrils expanded more, I think, than I ever saw in any dog.

209. “I bred from her, but her offspring were not worth their salt, although their father was a good dog, and had seen some service in Norfolk turnips.”

210. As a horse-dealer once said to me, “I’d ride many a mile, and pay my own pikes,” to see such an animal; but, “Grouse,” being, unhappily, no longer in the land of the living, I was forced to content myself with merely looking at her portrait. This, however, afforded me much pleasure; I therefore obtained the owner’s permission to have it engraved. He says that she always much arched her loins when at a point close to game, and that the artist has most happily hit off her attitude. She is the darker dog of the two, and stands, as soldiers say, on the “proper left.” Her companion, “Juno,” was far from a bad bitch.

211. Might not this singular feat of “Grouse’s” be thus explained?—

212. The longer the time that has elapsed since the emission of particles of scent, the more feeble is that scent, on account of the greater dispersion of the said particles; but, from the greater space[33] they then occupy, a dog would necessarily have a greater chance of meeting some of them, though, possibly, his nose might not be fine enough to detect them.

213. Now, my idea is, that “Grouse’s” exquisite sense of smell made her often imagine the possible vicinity of game from the very faintest indications,—that her sagacity led her not to abandon hastily such tokens, however feeble, but rather to seek patiently for a confirmation or disproval of her surmises,—that these fancies of hers often ending in disappointment, her manner did not exhibit any excitement that could have induced a spectator to guess what was passing in her mind,—that he, therefore, noticed nothing unusual until after the removal of her hesitation and doubts, when he observed her walking calmly direct up to her birds,—and that he thus was led to regard as an unexplained faculty what really ought to have been considered as simply an evidence of extreme sensitiveness of nose combined with marvellous caution,—a caution it is the great aim of good breaking to inculcate. If I am right in my theory, extraordinary “finder” as “Grouse” was, she would have been yet more successful had she been taught to range properly.

214. It is heedlessness,—the exact opposite of this extreme caution,—that makes young dogs so often disregard and overrun a slight scent; and since they are more inclined to commit this error from the rivalry of companionship, an additional argument is presented in favour of breaking them separately, and giving them their own time, quietly and methodically, to work out a scent, provided the nose be carried high. I am satisfied most of us hurry young dogs too much. Observe the result of patience and care, as exhibited in the person of the old Dropper, noticed in 228.

215. But, doubtless, there are mysterious influences and instincts of which the wisest of us know but little.

216. An old brother officer of mine, the Hon. F. C——h, has a very handsome black retriever that possesses the extraordinary gift of being able to run direct to any game, or even glove, you may leave behind you, however tortuous may be your subsequent path. C——h told me that he has, in the presence of keepers, frequently dropped a rabbit within sight of the dog, and then walked in a circle, or rather semicircle, to the other side of a low hill—a distance, possibly, of nearly a mile—before he desired the dog to fetch it; yet, on receiving the order, the animal invariably set off in an undeviating line straight to the rabbit, unless his attention had been drawn away by playing with other dogs—a license C——h sometimes designedly allowed. The retriever would then shuffle about a little before he went off, but when he started it would be in as direct a line to the object as usual.

217. No one could explain by what sense or faculty he performed this feat. It appears not to have been by the aid of his olfactory powers, for C——h (who is a keen sportsman, and capital shot, by-the-bye) would often purposely manage that the dog, when he was desired to “fetch” the object, should be immediately to windward of it; and in the most unfavourable position, therefore, for deriving any advantage from the exercise of his nasal organs.

218. Capt. G——g, R.N. mentioned to me, that a ship, in which he had served many years ago in the Mediterranean, seldom entered a port that the large Newfoundland belonging to her did not jump overboard the instant the anchor was dropped, swim ashore, and return, after an hour or two’s lark, direct to his own ship, though she might be riding in a crowd of vessels. He would then bark, anxiously, until the bight of a rope was hove to him. Into this he would contrive to get his fore-legs, and, on his seizing it firmly with his teeth, the sailors, who were much attached to him, would hoist him on board.

219. Mr. W——b, of S——a, had a young Newfoundland that from very puppyhood took fearlessly to water, but acquired as he grew up such wandering propensities on land, that his master determined to part with him, and accordingly made him a present to his friend Lieut. P——d, R.N. then in command of H.M. Cutter “Cameleon.” “Triton,” however, was so attached to his old roving habits, that whenever the cutter went into port he would invariably swim ashore of his own accord, and remain away for several days, always managing, however, to return on board before the anchor was weighed. Such, too, was his intelligence that he never seemed puzzled how to pick out his own vessel from amidst forty or fifty others. Indeed, Lieut. P——d, (he lately commanded the “Vulcan,”) to whom the question, at my request, was expressly put, believes, (and he has courteously permitted me to quote his name and words,) that, on one occasion, “Triton” contrived to find his own vessel from among nearly a hundred that were riding at anchor in Poole harbour. The dog’s being ever so well acquainted with the interior of the craft does not explain why he should be familiar with her external appearance. Did he judge most by the hull or the rigging?

220. The Duke of N——k so much admired the magnificent style in which “Triton” would spring into the strongest sea, that Lieut. P——d gave the fine animal to his Grace, who, for all I know to the contrary, still possesses him.

221. Who can account for the mode in which a dog or cat, carried a long journey from home, in a covered basket, instinctively, finds its way back?—yet, numerous are the well authenticated instances of such occurrences.[34] But, enough of this,—fortunately I have not undertaken to attempt an elucidation of any of Nature’s many mysteries, but simply to show how some of the faculties she has bestowed upon the canine race may easily be made conducive to our amusements.