FIRST LESSON IN SEPTEMBER CONTINUED. CUNNING OF AGE.—RANGE OF FROM TWO TO SIX DOGS.

222. Your dog not to “break fence;” how taught; birds often sprung while you are scrambling over hedge.—223. Turning one’s back upon a dog to bring him away; stooping down, &c. to make him hunt close.—224. Dog, when fatigued, not to be hunted; leads to false points.—225. Sent home, brushed, and allowed a warm berth; not to follow all day at “heel.”—226. Instance of longevity and vigour; flapper shooting.—227. Value of good old dogs.—228. Exemplified in an old dropper on the moors.—229. Young dogs get thrown out; cunning of old birds exemplified in a Grouse.—230. Annual “fall” of underwood in Kent.—231. Mr. K——g, good fisherman; in Note, anecdote of voracity of pike. Wheatley’s “Rod and Line.”—232. Extraordinary chase after a wounded pheasant.—233. Singular appearance of the pheasant on its capture.—234. Description of the Spaniel “Dash.”—235. Evil of “fetching,” not having been taught in youth exemplified.—236. Another instance of the cunning of an old Pheasant. In Note, how to choose and tell age of Pheasants.—237. The last Duke of Gordon; his black setters; his shooting over old dogs.—238 to 240.—Beat of two dogs; how regulated.—241. Whatever number be hunted, all should look to the gun for orders; Mr. Herbert’s opinion in his “Field Sports in United States.”—242, 243. Beat of three dogs.—244. Of four dogs.—245 to 247. Of five or six dogs.—248. Great precision impracticable, but the necessity of a system maintained; System particularly essential where game is scarce; dogs to be brigaded not employed as a pack.—249. When each keeper hunts a brace.—250. Major B——d’s highly broken pointers.—251, 252. His making six alternately “road;” their running riot when ordered.—253. Not a good shot, which shows excellence in shooting not to be essential in a breaker.—254. A brigade of fine rangers worth from fifty to sixty guineas a brace.—255. Bad rangers afford some sport where game is plentiful; Captain R——s’ dogs on Quail.—256. Fastest walkers do not necessarily beat most country.—257. Nor do always the fastest dogs.—258. How slow dogs may hunt more ground than faster.

222. Of course, you will not let your pupil “break fence,” or get out of your sight. If he be a small, active pointer or setter he may be out of sight before you are aware of it. Be on the watch to whistle or call out “Fence,” the instant you perceive that he is thinking of quitting the field. Do not wait until he is over; check him by anticipating his intentions. Should he, unperceived, or in defiance of your orders, get into a field before you, call him back (by the same opening, if practicable, through which he passed, the more clearly to show him his folly); and do not proceed further until he has obeyed you. A steady adherence to this rule will soon convince him of the inutility of not exercising more patience, or at least forbearance; then signal to him “away” in the direction you choose, not in the direction he chooses. It is essential that you should be the first over every fence. In the scramble, birds, at which you ought to have a shot, are frequently sprung. If he is not obedient to your orders make him “drop,” and rate him as described in 188.

223. A dog from his own observation so much feels,—and in a greater or less degree, according to his education,—the necessity of watching in what direction you are walking, that if he is habituated to work under your eye,—I mean, is never allowed to hunt behind you,—by turning your back upon him when he is paying no attention to your signals, you will often be able to bring him away from a spot where he is ranging (perhaps down wind) against your wishes, at a time when you are afraid to whistle, lest you should alarm the birds. Waving your hand backwards and forwards near the ground, and stooping low while walking slowly about, as if in search of something, will often attract the attention of an ill-taught self-willed dog; and his anxiety to participate in the find, and share the sport which he imagines you expect, will frequently induce him to run up, and hunt alongside of you for any close lying bird.

224. Never be induced to hunt your young dog, (nor indeed, any dog), when he is tired. If you do, you will give him a slovenly carriage and habits, and lessen his zeal for the sport. In order to come in for a sniff, at a time when he is too fatigued to search for it himself, he will crawl after his companion, watching for any indication of his finding. As they become wearied you will have a difficulty in keeping your old well broken dogs separate—much more young ones, however independently they may have ranged when fresh. You may also, to a certainty, expect false points; but what is of far more consequence, by frequently overtasking your young dog, you will as effectually waste his constitution as you would your horse’s by premature work.

225. If he is very young when first entered, two or three hours’ work at a time will be sufficient. When he is tired, or rather before he is tired, send him home with the man who brings you a relief. Do not fancy your dog will be getting a rest if he be allowed to follow at your heels for the remainder of the day, coupled to a companion. His fretting at not being allowed to share in the sport he sees, will take nearly as much out of him as if you permitted him to hunt. If you can persuade John always to rub him down, and brush and dry him—nay even to let him enjoy an hour’s basking in front of the fire—before he shuts him up in the kennel, you will add years to his existence; and remember that one old experienced dog, whose constitution is uninjured, is worth two young ones.

226. A gentleman in Eyrecourt, County Galway, gave me, as a valuable present, a black setter thirteen years of age. And most valuable was the setter to my friend, who had carefully reared him from a puppy, and had him well under command; but with me he was so wild,—I make use of the term most advisedly,—that he did me more harm than good the only season I shot over him. He was stolen from me, and his teeth were so sound, and he bore so little the appearance of age, that I have no doubt he was sold as a tolerably young dog. He was the best specimen I ever saw of the vigour that may be retained for old age by judicious treatment in youth. The excellence of his constitution was the more remarkable, from the fact of his having always been extremely fond of the water. Few dogs could equal him for flapper shooting, that vilest of sports, if followed before the unfortunate birds get strong on the wing—as unprofitable, too, for the table, as unsatisfactory to the real sportsman. Sir J——s M——e, of Perthshire, told me that he had shot grouse over an Oxfordshire pointer bitch (the best he ever possessed and the founder of his kennel-stock) until she was eighteen years of age, when she could do no more than crawl up the side of a hill, occasionally, to gain time, making false points. Once, however, on the top, she would work merrily downwards,—no false points then.

227. But canine veterans, of however invalided a constitution, if they have been really first-rate in their youth, are not always to be despised. Occasionally you may come across one who will, from his past experience and superior nose, prove a more valuable auxiliary in the field, than many a campaigner of greater activity and vigour.

228. Many years ago I went from the south of England for some grouse-shooting in Scotland. When arranging with my companion (Captain S——s, a connexion of the kind-hearted old warrior, whose crowning victory was Goojerat,) what dogs should accompany us, he remarked, that it would be useless to take his old Dropper (one far more resembling a pointer than a setter), as he was too aged to undergo any work. I observed, that he could do us no harm if he did us no good; and, as he had been an admirable animal, I advised his being taken. Off he went to the North; and frequently did we afterwards congratulate ourselves upon this decision, for the old fellow, apparently grateful for the compliment seemed to feel that he ought to make us some return, and that the less ground he could traverse with his legs the more he was bound to traverse with his nose. The result was, that while he was slowly pottering about, (the season being unusually hot and dry, there was but little scent) he was constantly finding us birds which his more flashy companions had passed over; and before we left Scotland we agreed that none of our dogs had procured us so many shots as the slow, careful old gentleman.

229. Old birds become very cunning; they are quite sensible of the danger they incur by rising, and to escape from the dog, and puzzle him, have as many wiles and twists as a hunted hare. It may be that as old age advances, their decreasing bodily powers warn them to add to their security by the exercise of their wits. It is often remarked, that if ever we kill any of their natural enemies, whether winged or four-footed, we are sure to find them in fair condition. This condition makes it obvious, that they must have gained with years the experience which enables them to obtain a good livelihood by craft, at a time of life when their failing strength would prevent their procuring a single meal by a direct pursuit.[35] If then we argue from analogy, we shall think it almost impossible for any unpractised dog, however highly-bred, to procure us so many shots as one who has been hunted for several seasons. And such is really the case. A young dog will not keep to the trail of an old bird for more than about forty yards; after that he will give it up altogether, or rush in. It is when he is “roading” one of these knowing aged patriarchs, that you become aware of the great value of experience in a dog. You may have seen a young one bewildered in the devious intricacies of the broken hags, sought as a refuge by an old cock-grouse, and have probably imagined that the youngster had only been following a recent haunt, and that the game was gone. Not so, the dog was right at first. He “footed” it out admirably until he came to the dark bush, which you must have wondered to see growing in such a situation; there the sly bird doubled, then turned short to the right for nearly a hundred yards before it resumed its course down wind. A dog more up to his work would have again hit off the scent, and an old stager, probably, never have lost it.

230. In order to be generally understood, I will preface the following anecdote by mentioning that in the large Kentish woods, where the annual falls of underwood take place to the extent of forty or fifty acres, it is usual to drain the land by digging water-courses, or as they are commonly called, Grips. The first year’s growth of the underwood is called yearling Fall (or Spring); the second, two-year old Fall (or Spring); and so on.

231. Mr. K——g, a good sportsman, and so successful an angler,[36] that he is familiarly called by his friends “the King-fisher,” to distinguish him from others who bear his name, was pheasant shooting in the winter of 1848–9, in two-year old springs, where, with all acknowledged partiality for Kent, it must be admitted that birds are not so plentiful as in certain preserves in Norfolk, though probably foxes are fully as numerous. It has been remarked, by-the-bye, that where foxes abound, old pheasants are very cunning; doubtless from having been often put to their shifts to escape from their wily adversaries.

232. K——g sprung a splendid cock-pheasant, which, although a long way off, he shot at and dropped. Judging from the manner in which it fell that it was a runner, and well knowing the racing propensities of the old cocks, he hastened to the spot where it tumbled, and, giving his gun to the marker, prepared for a sharp burst, though he little expected the extraordinary chase that was to follow. He found, as he had anticipated, some breast feathers, but no bird. After fruitlessly trying in every direction, for nearly a quarter of an hour, to put “Dash” on the scent, K——g’s eyes rested on one of the grips just spoken of: it ran close to where the bird had fallen, and the thought struck him that possibly the cunning creature might have taken refuge in it, and thus have thrown out the spaniel. K——g got into it, and though finding fully six inches of water, he persevered in following it. It brought him to a high wood about one hundred yards off, and towards which the pheasant had been flying when shot at, but “Dash” could not obtain the least scent of the bird. As a last resource, K——g then returned to the spot where he had left the marker with his gun, being determined to try the grip in the opposite direction, notwithstanding its leading exactly contrary to the point for which the bird had been making. He did so, and by calling energetically to “Dash,” he endeavoured to make the dog believe that at length the bird was in view. The plan succeeded. “Dash,” who had become slack from disappointment, hunted with renewed animation, and, after pursuing the grip for some time, took the scent full cry across the springs until he came to an old waggon-road, along which he went at speed. Feeling assured that all was now right, K——g gladly moderated his pace, for he was much out of breath. When at length he overtook “Dash,” instead of seeing him in possession of the bird, he only found him completely at fault, trying up and down the well-indented wheel-ruts. On the other side of the road there was another grip. Into it K——g jumped, followed the plan he had before adopted, and with like success; for on running up the grip for about sixty yards, the spaniel again hit off the scent, and after taking it away at a right angle (so far that K——g could only now and then catch a faint tingle of the bell), brought it back to the same grip, but some 200 yards higher, where he suddenly “threw up.” For the fourth time in went K——g. “Dash” now seemed thoroughly to understand matters, and kept trying both sides of the grip for the scent. At length he found it, and went full cry across a yearling fall, which was everywhere very bare, except here and there an occasional patch of high strong grass. At one of these K——g found him again at fault. The dog seemed quite done; but still it was evident, from his excited manner, that he thought the pheasant was not far distant. After a time he began scratching at the long grass. K——g went up, and, on putting the stalks aside, fancied he perceived the end of some tail feathers. He thrust in his arm, and ultimately succeeded in dragging forth the well-hunted bird, quite alive, out of the deep wheel-track in which it had buried itself. The coarse grass had grown so closely over the rut, that the bird had been able to creep in for three or four yards.

233. A more miserable appearance than the poor creature presented, cannot easily be conceived. Its feathers were so completely sopped, and stuck so close to its body, that it looked a mere skeleton; and yet it was a noble bird, measuring three feet and an inch from the tip of its bill to the extremity of its tail, and weighed 3 lbs. 6 oz.

234. As “Dash” plays so conspicuous a part in the foregoing history, it appears right that a few words should be given to describe him. He is a low, strong-limbed, broad-backed nearly thorough-bred Sussex spaniel, with an extremely intelligent-looking head, but a sadly mean stern. His colour is black. K——g generally hunts him with a bell, especially where the underwood is thick. If he is sharply called to when he is on game he will slacken his pace, look round for his master, and not “road” keenly until the gun approaches him; he will then rush in with a bark to flush, though at other times hunting mute. The intelligent animal seems, however, perfectly to know when the cover is too high or strong for K——g to follow, for he then invariably runs full cry from first touching on a scent. He never deceives the sportsman, for he never gives one of his eloquent looks unless he is certain of being on game; and his nose is so good, and he hunts so true, that he invariably “pushes” his pheasant, however much it may turn or double.

235. He is also undeniable at “seeking dead,” but unluckily was not taught as a youngster to fetch. Much time is, therefore, often lost in finding him after he has been sent for a winged bird; but when he is at length discovered it is sure to be with him.

236. I was told of a farmer in Kent—one of her fine yeomen, of whom England has such cause to feel proud, (pity that in some other counties the class is not as distinctly preserved!)—who was shooting with an old short-legged, strong-loined, Sussex spaniel. The dog, after “roading” a pheasant along many a tortuous path, led the farmer to the edge of a shallow brook, up the middle of which, far away to his right, he was lucky enough to see the animal running, obviously with the design of throwing out the dog. A light pair of heels soon brought the sportsman within shot, and enabled him to bag the heaviest and richest feathered bird he had ever seen. The sharp long spurs[37] showed it to be at least five years of age, and its sagacity would probably have borne it triumphantly through another campaign or two, had not the farmer’s quick eye detected its adroit manoeuvre,—one that forcibly calls to mind Cooper’s descriptions of the stratagems employed by the North American Indians to baffle pursuit by leaving no indication of their trail.

237. Must there not be experience on the part of dogs to contend successfully with such wiliness as this? So much was the last Duke of Gordon convinced of its necessity,—and he is well known to have been a capital sportsman, and to have paid great attention to his fine breed of black setters,—that he would never allow one of them to accompany him to the moors that had not been shot over five or six seasons—and “small blame” to his Grace “for that same,” as he had a choice from all ages. But it must be acknowledged, that however excellent[38] in many respects,—and when in the hands of the breaker their indomitable energies would cause the bunch of heather, fastened to the end of their checkcords, to dance merrily over the mountains from morning until night-fall,—most of them were a wild set in their youth, and required constant work to keep them in order. Every experienced sportsman in the Highlands is aware that young dogs will romp (for it cannot be termed hunting), with their noses here, there, and everywhere, obtaining but few points over ground on which knowing old dogs will immediately afterwards keep the gun-barrels at an exhilarating temperature.

238. When you hunt a brace of dogs, to speak theoretically, they should traverse a field in opposite directions, but along parallel lines, and the distance between the lines should be regulated by you according as it is a good or a bad scenting day, and according to the excellence of the dogs’ noses. Mathematical accuracy is, of course, never to be attained, but the closer you approach to it the better.

239. You should attempt it (on entering the field to leeward, as before directed) by making one dog go straight ahead of you to the distance which you wish the parallel lines to be apart from each other, before you cast him off (say) to the right; then cast off his companion to the left. If the dogs are nearly equal in pace, the one ahead, so long as he does not fancy he winds game, should continue to work on a parallel more advanced than the other.

240. Should you not like to relinquish, for the sake of this formal precision, the chance of a find in the neglected right-hand corner of the field, cast off one dog to the right, the other to the left on entering it, and make the one that soonest approaches his hedge take the widest sweep (turn), and so be placed in the advanced parallel.

241. With regard to hunting more than a brace—when your difficulties wonderfully multiply—your own judgment must determine in what manner to direct their travelling powers to the greatest advantage. Much will depend upon the different speed of the dogs; the number you choose, from whim or otherwise, to hunt; the kind of country you beat; and the quantity and sort of game you expect to find. It is, however, certain you must wish that each dog be observant of the direction in which your face is turned, in order that he may guide his own movements by yours;—that he from time to time look towards you to see if you have any commands;—and that he be ever anxious to obey them.

Herbert writes as follows, in his work on shooting in the United States:[39] his words ought to have influence, for manifestly he is a good sportsman; but I own I cannot quite agree with him as to the facility with which a range can be taught: “It is wonderful how easily dogs which are always shot over by the same man—he being one who knows his business—will learn to cross and re-quarter their ground, turning to the slightest whistle, and following the least gesture of the hand. I have seen old dogs turn their heads to catch their master’s eye, if they thought the whistle too long deferred; and I lately lost an old Irish setter, which had been stone deaf for his last two seasons, but which I found no more difficulty in turning than any other dog, so accurately did he know when to look for the signal.”

242. To beat your ground systematically with three dogs you should strive to make them cross and re-cross you, each on a different parallel, as just described for two dogs; but each dog must make a proportionately bolder sweep (turn); or,

243. If you have plenty of space, you can make one dog take a distinct beat to the right, another a separate beat to the left, and direct the third (which ought to be the dog least confirmed in his range) to traverse the central part,—and so be the only one that shall cross and re-cross you. If one of your dogs is a slow potterer, and you prefer this method to the one named in 242, give him the middle beat, and let his faster companions take the flanks. In our small English fields you have not space enough, but on our moors, and in many parts of the Continent, it cannot be want of room that will prevent your accomplishing it. To do this well, however, and not interfere with each other’s ground, how magnificently must your dogs be broken! In directing their movements, the assistance that would be given you by each dog’s acknowledging his own particular whistle, and no other (505), is very apparent.

244. It is difficult enough to make three dogs traverse across you on tolerably distinct parallels, and at a judicious distance between the parallels; you will find it hopeless to attempt it with more than three; and one can hardly imagine a case in which it would be advantageous to uncouple a greater number of good rangers. If, however, the scarcity of game, and the extensiveness of your beat, or any peculiar fancy, induce you habitually to use four dogs, hunt one brace to the right, the other to the left; and, so far as you can, let those which form a brace be of equal speed.[40] Your task will be facilitated by your always keeping the same brace to one flank,—I mean, by making one brace constantly hunt to your right hand; the other brace to your left. The same reasoning holds with regard to assigning to each dog a particular side when hunting three, according to the mode described in last paragraph. It should, however, be borne in mind, that constantly hunting a dog in this manner on one and the same flank, tends to make him range very disagreeably whenever employed single-handed.

245. If you hunt five dogs, four of them ought to work by braces to the right and left, and the fifth (the dog whose rate of speed most varies from the others) should have a narrow beat assigned him directly in advance of you.

246. If three brace are to be used, let the third brace hunt the central ground, as recommended for the fifth dog,—or they could be worked in leashes, one on the right of the gun, the other on the left.

247. These are the correct theoretical rules, and the more closely you observe them, the more truly and killingly will your ground be hunted.

248. Probably you will think that such niceties are utterly impracticable. They must be impracticable, if you look for mathematical precision; but if you are determined to hunt many dogs and hope to shoot over more than a mere rabble, you should work upon system. If you do not, what can you expect but an unorganized mob?—an undrilled set, perpetually running over each other’s ground,—now scampering in this part, now crowded in that,—a few likely spots being hunted by all (especially if they are old dogs), the rest of the field by none of them; and to control whose unprofitable wanderings, why not employ a regular huntsman and a well-mounted whip? Doubtless it would be absurd to hope for perfect accuracy in so difficult a matter as a systematic range in a brigade of dogs; but that you may approach correctness, take a true standard of excellence. If you do not keep perfection in view, you will never attain to more than mediocrity. I earnestly hope, however, that it cannot be your wish to take out a host of dogs,—but should you have such a singular hobby, pray let them be regularly brigaded, and not employed as a pack. In my opinion, under no circumstances can more than relays of leashes be desirable; but I should be sorry in such matters to dispute any man’s right to please himself; I only wish him, whatever he does, to strive to do it correctly.

249. Some men who shoot on a grand scale make their keepers hunt each a distinct brace of dogs,—the gun going up to whatever dog points. It is the most killing plan to adopt; but that is not the matter we were considering. The question was, what method a man ought to pursue who had a fancy to himself hunt many dogs at a time.

250. The late Major B——d, of B——d, in Lancashire, had this fancy. The moors over which he shot were by no means well-stocked with game; but the wonderful control he obtained over his pointers showed, in the strongest manner, the high grade of education that can be imparted to dogs by gentle and judicious treatment.

251. He was accustomed to hunt three brace at a time. Each dog when he was ranging would take up his separate ground, without interfering with that of his companions. The Major’s raising his arm was the signal for all to drop.

252. If one of the dogs was pointing, the Major would go up perhaps to the dog furthest off, and make him approach the dog that was standing; and in October (when grouse run much) he has thus brought all six dogs in a line, one following the other, and made each in succession take the lead, and “foot” the birds for a short distance. The same dogs, on the same day, at a given signal, would run riot; scamper over the moor; chase hares, sheep, or anything they came across; and at the well-known signal again would drop, and, as if by magic, resume their perfect obedience.

253. Major B——d was quite one of the old school; used flint and steel; and looked with ineffable contempt at the detonators of the youngsters. He was not remarkable for being a good shot, capital sportsman as he undoubtedly was in the highest sense of the word, showing the truth of what was said in the fifth paragraph, that excellence in shooting, though of course advantageous, is not a necessary qualification in a breaker.

254. If a professional breaker could show you a brigade of dogs well trained to quarter their ground systematically, and should ask from fifty to sixty guineas[41] a brace for them, you ought not to be surprised. What an extent of country they could sweep over in an hour and not leave a bird behind! And consider what time and labour must have been spent in inculcating so noble a range. He would have been far better paid, if he had received less than half the money as soon as they “pointed steadily,” both at the living and the dead; “down charged;” “backed;” and were broken from “chasing hare,” or noticing rabbits.

255. The great advantage of fine rangers is not much considered where game is abundant. A friend of mine, a capital shot (though far inferior to his namesake, Captain R——s of sporting celebrity), with whom I have enjoyed some pleasant quail shooting in America, used constantly to hunt a leash of pointers, “Jem,” “Beau,” and “Fag,”—the last a regular misnomer, for the dog was incorrigibly idle. It was curious to watch how pertinaciously, like sheep, they herded together,—seldom did one wind a bird that would not have been found a few seconds afterwards by the others. R——s, long before I knew him, had relinquished all attempts at making them beat separately—indeed, I am not positive that he was fully sensible of its utility. As they all “backed” promptly—instantly “down charged,” and had not a shade of jealousy, they did little harm; and sometimes on a broiling day “Beau,” who generally took the lead, was not the first to come on a dead bird. Where game is plentiful, as bad rangers as the trio belonging to my old friend, will afford you sport; but it is certain that they will pass by many birds, unless you undergo the fatigue of walking over most of the ground yourself, and it is clear if you do, that you will not be able to hunt half as many acres in a day, as you could if you kept to your general central direction while the dogs hunted according to rule. Few Frenchmen agree with us respecting a fine range. They make their pointers and setters hunt almost as close as spaniels. They prefer bitches to dogs, saying that they are more affectionate (“plus fidÈles”), and therefore range nearer. In England, in old days, when our dogs were far heavier and slower than they are now, and, in consequence, could not run over so much ground, they were taught to traverse little more than from thirty to sixty yards on each side of the gun.

256. Some men fancy that the faster they walk, the more country they hunt. This is far from being always the case. Dogs travel at one rate, whether you walk fast or slow, and the distance between the parallels on which they work, (being determined by the fineness of their noses, and the goodness of the scent,) ought not to be affected by your pace. Suppose, therefore, that you shoot in an unenclosed country, whether you walk quickly, or merely crawl along, the only difference in the beat of your dogs ought to be that, in the latter case, they range further to the right and left. You thus make up in your breadth what you lose in your length of beat.

257. Nor do the fastest dogs, however well they may be broken, always truly hunt the most ground. The slower dogs have frequently finer olfactory nerves than their fleeter rivals,—therefore the parallels on which the former work, may correctly be much wider apart than the parallels of the latter. The finer nose in this manner commands so much more ground, that it beats the quicker heels out and out.

258. You will see, then, how judicious it is to show forbearance and give encouragement to the timid, but high-bred class[42] of dogs described in 116; for it is obvious that, though they may travel slower, yet they may really hunt properly, within a specified time, many more acres of ground than their hardier and faster competitors: and it is certain that they will not so much alarm the birds. Dogs that are most active with their heels are generally least busy with their noses.