FIRST LESSON IN SEPTEMBER CONTINUED. ASSISTANT.—VERMIN.

279. Some Dogs will not point readily—Breeding in and in, error of.—280. Instance of two young, untaught, highly-bred Pointers, behaving well first day shown Game—Dogs more inclined to point at first than afterwards.—281. Checkcord employed—spike attached to it.—282. With wild dog assistant useful—Signals to.—283. How particularly useful with a badly broken Dog—Range of Stoat—Traps better than Guns. In Note, Hen-harrier feeding her young—Decoy Owl for Winged-Vermin—Keeper to possess Dog that hunts Vermin—Account of a capital Bull-Terrier—Destructiveness of Stoats. (See Appendix).—284. Shy birds, how intercepted between Guns and dog. Cheeta driven near Antelopes by cart circling and never stopping. In Note, Cheeta always selects the Buck. Cheeta how trained.—285. “Heading” Dog at his point—not practised too often—Dog to acquire a knowledge of his distance from Game.—286. Beautiful instance of Pointer correcting his Distance.—287. Constantly “Heading” Dog may make him too immoveable.—288. A fault often caused by over-punishment.—289. Mr. C——t’s Bitch, which persisted three times in taking up the same point.—290 to 292. Instance of fine “roading” in a young Dog.—293. False points caused by over-punishment—Self-confidence and experience only cures for over-caution.—294. Dog’s manner shows position of birds.—295. Curiously instanced in a Dog of Lord M——d’s.—296. Also shows species of Game—Pointer on Rabbits.—297. Young Dog drawing upon his first Blackcock.—298. Terrier pointing four kinds of game, and each in a different attitude.

279. It is proper you should be warned that you must not always expect a dog will “toho” the first day as readily as I have described, though most will, and some (especially pointers) even more quickly, if they have been previously well drilled, and have been bred for several generations from parents of pure blood.

I do not say bred in and in. Breeding in and in, to a certainty, would enfeeble their intellects as surely as their constitutions. In this way has many a kennel been deprived of the energy and endurance so essential in a sportsman’s dog.

280. The late Lord Harris gave Mr. M——t (mentioned in 195), then residing in Essex, two young, very highly-bred pointer pups, a brother and sister. Mr. M——t, after some months, carried them into Kent, and, without their having had the least preliminary instruction, or ever having seen a bird, took them out partridge-shooting. He had no older dog to set them a good example, and as they were wholly unbroken, he feared they would bolt for home the moment he squibbed off his gun; but, though they seemed much astonished and extremely nervous at the report, great caressing and encouragement induced them to remain. After awhile the dog went forward, and sniffed about,—then he began to hunt,—at length he did so very assiduously; but his sister not so keenly, for she did little more than follow in his wake. Generally it is otherwise, bitches being usually the earliest in the field. At length the dog came to a stiff point at the edge of some turnips. The bitch perceived him and timidly backed. Mr. M——t hastened up—birds arose—one fell, fortunately killed outright—the dog dashed at it, and, tremulous with a world of new and pleasurable emotions, nosed and fumbled it about in a very excited manner, but did not attempt to gripe it. Mr. M——t, lest he should damp the youngster’s ardour, refrained from rating, or even speaking to him, but left him entirely to himself. After a time, singular to say,—for he had not been taught as a puppy to “fetch,”—he lifted the partridge, and carried it to his master,—a practice he was afterwards allowed to pursue. Is it not clear that, if he had been well instructed in the initiatory lessons, Mr. M——t would have found him perfectly made with the exception of having no systematic range? He turned out extremely well, and constantly showed himself superior to his sister, who always wanted mettle.

As in the present instance, it often occurs that a dog is less inclined to dash in at first than when he is more acquainted with birds. He is suddenly arrested by the novelty of the scent, and it is not until he is fully assured from what it proceeds that he longs to rush forward and give chase. In autumnal breaking the dog gets his bird—it is killed for him—he is satisfied—and therefore he has not the same temptation to rush in as when he is shown birds in the spring.

281. If you find your dog, from excess of delight and exuberance of spirits, less under general command than from his initiatory education you had expected, and that he will not “toho” steadily at the exact spot at which you order him, at once attach a checkcord to his collar. It will diminish his pace, and make him more cautious and obedient. The moment you next see him begin to feather, get up quickly, but without running, to the end of the cord, and check him with a sudden jerk if you are satisfied that game is before him and that he ought to be pointing. If from his attitude and manner you are positive that there is game, drive a spike (or peg) into the ground, and tie the cord to it. I only hope the birds will remain stationary. If they do, you can give him a capital lesson by remaining patiently alongside of him, and then heading him and the birds in the manner before described (264, 265).

282. As a general rule, an attendant or any companion cannot be recommended, because he would be likely to distract a young dog’s attention (10); but an intelligent fellow who would readily obey your signals, and not presume to speak, would, doubtless, with a very wild dog, be an advantageous substitute for the spike. You could then employ a longer and slighter cord than usual, and, on the man’s getting hold of the end of it, be at once free to head and awe the dog. Whenever you had occasion to stand still, the man would, of course, be as immoveable as yourself.

Your signals to him might be:—
The gun held up,—“Get near the dog.”
Your fist clenched,—“Seize the rope.”
Your fist shaken,—“Jerk the cord.”
Your hand spread open,—“Let go the cord.”

Or any signs you pleased, so that you understood each other without the necessity of speaking.

283. Should it ever be your misfortune to have to correct in a dog evil habits caused by past mismanagement, such an attendant, if an active, observant fellow, could give you valuable assistance, for he sometimes would be able to seize the cord immediately the dog began “feathering,” and generally would have hold of it before you could have occasion to fire. But the fault most difficult to cure in an old dog is a bad habit of ranging. If, as a youngster, he has been permitted to beat as his fancy dictated, and has not been instructed in looking to the gun for orders, you will have great, very great difficulty in reclaiming him. Probably he will have adopted a habit of running for a considerable distance up wind, his experience having shown him that it is one way of finding birds, but not having taught him that to seek for them by crossing the wind would be a better method.

Curiously enough, nature has given this systematic range to the stoat,[50] though, happily for the poor rabbits, it cannot carry a high nose, and therefore the parallels on which it hunts are necessarily not far apart. This interesting proceeding is occasionally witnessed by those keepers who injudiciously prefer their game-disturbing guns to their vermin-destroying traps.[51]

284. The great advantage of teaching a dog to point the instant he is sensible of the presence of birds (260), and of not creeping a foot further until he is directed by you, is particularly apparent when birds are wild. While he remains steady, the direction of his nose will lead you to give a tolerable guess as to their “whereabouts,” and you and your companion can keep quite wide of the dog (one on each side), and so approach the birds from both flanks. They, meanwhile, finding themselves thus intercepted in three directions, will probably lie so close as to afford a fair shot to, at least, one gun, for they will not fail to see the dog and be awed by his presence. Raise your feet well off the ground, to avoid making a noise. Walk quickly, but with no unnecessary flourish of arms or gun. They may fancy that you intend to pass by them:—a slow cautious step often raises their suspicions. (Most sportsmen in the Highlands prefer a low cap, or a wide-awake, to a hat; one of the motives for this choice being that the wearer is less conspicuous,—not appearing so tall. It is because he will not appear so tall that he thinks he can get nearer to a pack by approaching the birds up hill, rather than by coming down upon them from a height. Many an old sportsman crouches when approaching wild birds.) As soon as you and your friend are in good positions, you can motion to the dog to advance and flush the birds. You should on no account halt on the way, for the moment you stop they will fancy they are perceived, and take wing. It is by driving round and round, constantly contracting the circle, and never stopping, that the bullock-cart, carrying the trained cheeta, is often brought within 100 yards of the herd of antelopes, amidst which is unsuspiciously browsing the doomed dark buck.[52] Driven directly towards the herd, the cart could not approach within thrice that distance. In Yorkshire, very late in the season, when the grouse are so scared that they will not allow a dog or man to get near them, it often happens that a good bag is made by the gun keeping just ahead of a cart and horse. Here, however, no circuit is made. The birds are found by chance. The only dog employed is the retriever, kept in the cart until he is required to fetch.

285. You must not, however, too often try to work round and head your pupil when he is pointing. Judgment is required to know when to do it with advantage. If the birds were running, you would completely throw him out, and greatly puzzle and discourage him, for they probably would then rise out of shot, behind you, if they were feeding up wind,—behind him, if they were feeding down wind.[53] Far more frequently make him work out the scent by his own sagacity and nose, and lead you up to the birds, every moment bristling more and more, at a pace[54] entirely controlled and regulated by your signals. These being given with your right hand will be more apparent to him if you place yourself on his left side. It is in this manner that you give him a lesson which will hereafter greatly aid him in recovering slightly winged birds,—in pressing to a rise the slow-winged but nimble-heeled rail,—or in minutely following the devious mazes through which an old cock-pheasant, or yet more, an old cock-grouse, may endeavour to mislead him. And yet this lesson should not be given before he is tolerably confirmed at his point, lest he should push too fast on the scent; and make a rush more like the dash of a cocker than the sober, convenient “road” of a setter. As his experience increases he will thus acquire the valuable knowledge of the position of his game:—he will lead you to the centre of a covey, or what is of greater consequence—as grouse spread—to the centre of a pack, (instead of allowing himself to be attracted to a flank by some truant from the main body), and thus get you a good double shot, and enable you effectually to separate the birds:—he will, moreover, become watchful, and sensible of his distance from game—a knowledge all-important, and which, be it remarked, he never could gain in turnips or potatoes, or any thick cover.

286. Mr. C——s R——n, well known in Edinburgh, told me that a black and tan pointer of his (Admiral M——y’s breed) gave, on one occasion, a very clever proof of his knowledge of the distance at which he ought to stand from his game. He was ranging in thick stubble. Some partridge, being slightly alarmed, rose a little above the ground, and then dropped very near the dog,—upon which the sagacious creature instantly crouched close to the ground, his head between his fore-legs, and in that constrained position ventre-À-terre, pushed himself backwards until he had retreated to what he conceived to be a judicious distance from the covey, when he stood up and pointed boldly.

287. There is another and yet stronger reason why you should not consider it a rule always to head your young dog at his point. You may—although at first it seems an odd caution to give—make him too stanch. This, to be sure, signifies less with partridges than with most birds; but if you have ever seen your dog come to a fixed point, and there, in spite of all your efforts, remain provokingly immoveable—plainly telling you of the vicinity of birds, but that you must find them out for yourself—your admiration of his steadiness has, I think, by no means reconciled you to the embarrassing position in which it has placed you. I have often witnessed this vexatious display of stanchness, although the owner cheered on the dog in a tone loud enough to alarm birds two fields off.

288. A keeper will sometimes praise his dog for such stanchness; but it is a great fault, induced probably by over-severity for former rashness,—and the more difficult to be cured, if the animal is a setter, from the crouching position which he often naturally assumes when pointing.

289. A friend of mine was told by Mr. C——t (to whom those interested in the prosperity of the Edinburgh Zoological Gardens ought to feel much indebted), that a little pointer bitch of his came, on a hot, dry, bad scenting day, to a fixed point. He could not persuade her to move, nor could he or his friend spring any game; and two not bad-nosed dogs that were hunting with her would not acknowledge the scent, even when they were brought close to the bitch. As she would neither advance nor retire, he actually had her carried off in a boy’s arms. When she was put down, away she ran and resumed her point. After another ineffectual attempt to raise birds, again she was borne off, but only to take up for a third time her point. At length, after a yet closer search—in which, however, she still refused to join,—a young blackcock was perceived closely buried under a thick piece of heather. The very excellence of the bitch’s nose, and her admirable perseverance, made it the more vexatious that she had not been taught the meaning of the signals to advance. One grieves that anything should have been neglected in the education of so superior a creature.

290. I advised (285) your practising your young dog in “footing” out a scent. Though it occurred many years ago, I remember as if it were but yesterday (from my annoyance at shooting so execrably, when it was peculiarly incumbent on me not to miss), my nearly making a sad mistake with a very young dog, who was following up a retreating bird most magnificently.

291. I was looking for grouse where I thought that there might be some, but was sure there could not be many. After beating for a considerable time unsuccessfully, the youngest of the dogs that were hunting made a stanch point. I got up to him;—nothing rose. I encouraged him to press on. He did so, and at a convenient pace which allowed me to keep parallel with him. He so seldom stopped, and bristled so little, that I thought he was making a fool of me. Still, as he now and then looked round sagaciously, as if to say “There really is game ahead,” I did not like to tell him of my suspicions. Though my patience was sorely tried, for he led me a distance which I dare not name, I resolved to let him have his own way, and to see what would be the result, satisfied that undue precipitance on my part might effect more evil than could arise from an erroneous participation in his proceedings. At length, when my good resolutions were all but exhausted, and I was thinking of chiding the dog for his folly, we approached a bare spot, free from heather:—up sprung a noble cock-grouse, challenging splendidly.

292. I had been so perplexed, and was, I am ashamed to say, so unnerved, that, though the bird went off in a line directly from me, I missed him with both barrels; I don’t know when I was more vexed:—nothing but my bungling lost the young dog the reward he so richly deserved.

293. I recount this story, though it is little in my favour, to warn you against the too common error of fancying that a young dog is making false points if birds do not get up directly. They may have taken leg-bail, and thus have puzzled him in his inexperience. Dogs not cowed by punishment will, after a little hunting, seldom make false points, while they are unfatigued. To a certainty they will not draw upon a false point for any distance: therefore, never punish what is solely occasioned by over-caution. Your doing so would but increase the evil. Self-confidence and experience are the only cures for a fault that would be a virtue if not carried to excess. Even a good dog will occasionally make a point at larks from over-caution when birds are wild; but see the first note to 194.

294. After you have shot over a dog a short time, his manner and attitude will enable you to guess pretty accurately whether birds are really before him; whether they are far off or near; and whether or not they are on the move. Generally speaking, the higher he carries his head, and the less he stiffens his stern, the further off are the birds. If he begin to look nervous, and become fidgety, you will seldom be wrong in fancying they are on the run. But various, and at times most curious, are the methods that dogs will adopt, apparently with the wish to show you where the birds are, and certainly with the desire to get you a shot.

295. A pointer, belonging at the present moment to a nobleman in Perthshire, Lord M——d, (from whose lips my informant heard the strange story), has quite a novel mode of telling that birds are on the move. While they continue quiet, he points them in the usual manner, with his head towards them, but so soon as they begin to walk off, he directly faces about, very disrespectfully presenting his stern to them,—whether to express contempt for their want of courtesy, or to warn his lordship to look out for a long shot, I will leave you to decide.[55] I particularly inquired if he did this indifferently, whether the birds were running up or down wind. This my informant could not positively tell. All he knew was that his lordship had said, in a general way, that the singularly mannered animal invariably repeated this eccentric proceeding whenever the birds moved.

296. Not only will a dog’s manner often show you whether or not birds are on the move, but his carriage, when you are accustomed to him, will frequently tell you what species of game is before him. I know an old pointer that is capital in light cover. His owner shoots rabbits over him, and whenever the dog finds one, though he points steadily, his tail vibrates as regularly as a pendulum.

297. Years ago, when I was shooting in the North, I was crossing some land which the encroachments of husbandry had converted from wild heather to profitable sheep-walks; suddenly a young dog that was with me came to a more rigid point than I had ever seen him make—every muscle appeared distended—I was puzzled—I felt satisfied that he had winded something very unusual, but what to expect I could not imagine, for there seemed not cover for a tomtit. When I got up to him he was so nervously anxious that I had some difficulty in making him advance, but at length he slowly brought me towards a small bush, to which he nailed his nose. Further he would not proceed. I kicked the bush; when, to my great gratification, up gradually rose a young blackcock, which went off to killing distance with a flight not more rapid than that of the florikin. It was the first black game that the dog had ever seen. It was also the first that I had ever seen on the wing, and this may account for all the attendant circumstances being so strongly impressed upon my memory.

298. Colonel C——n, on the staff of the Duke of C——e, told me that about ten years ago he heard a gentleman, then living on the Mall at Birr, make a bet of a pony (he offered to wager a much larger sum) that his terrier bitch would point all the kinds of game found in the neighbouring bog—and further, that before it was sprung he would name what description of game the dog was pointing. The gentleman won his bet handsomely, though they found snipe, woodcock, grouse, hare, and something else,—as well as Colonel C——n now remembers,—a duck. It was soon evident to the spectators, that the attitude of the clever animal—short-eared, with a considerable cross of the bull-dog—varied according to the nature of the game she came across. To an English ear shooting on a bog does not sound very attractive,—but though the walking is generally difficult, the sport is often interesting, from the variety of game the sportsman frequently meets with.