SETTER TO RETRIEVE. BLOODHOUNDS. RETRIEVERS TO “BEAT.” WOUNDED WILDFOWL RETRIEVED BEFORE THE KILLED.

536. SETTER TO RETRIEVE; obtain thereby in one dog the services of two; necessity of having some Dog that retrieves.—537. Predilection for Setters confessed; Reason given; in Note, Setters daily becoming more valuable than Pointers; Partridges netted by Poachers, also by Keepers, to make birds wary; Bloodhounds to track Poachers; Education of Bloodhounds; Education of Keeper’s night dog. (See Appendix).—538. Retrieving not to be taught first season.—539. Value of retrieving instanced in Pointer.—540. One Dog only to retrieve; Dog that bolted Partridge because interfered with by companion; Birds kept cool.—541. Let “retrieving” be done by “Finder.”—542. Captain J——n’s three Dogs that alternately retrieved as ordered.—543. Such an Education could be given, but unnecessary.—544. Seeking Dead with two Dogs; Winged Bird searched for in direction of covey’s flight.—545. Scent differs of wounded and unwounded birds.—546. Three dead Snipe lifted in succession; Setter that stood fresh birds while carrying a dead one; Pointer that pointed Partridge while carrying a hare; Retriever refusing to relinquish chase of wounded Hare; wounded Woodcock walked up to, not “set” by Dog.—547. “Venus” tracking winged Partridge through Pheasants and Rabbits.—548. Injudiciousness of retrieving Setter pointing dead.—549. Argument against employing retrieving Setters holds against using regular Retrievers.—550. REGULAR RETRIEVERS TO BEAT; its Advantages; one Dog does the duty of two.—551. Instance of Retriever doing so spontaneously.—552. Retriever that never disturbed fresh ground.—553. WATER RETRIEVERS (OR WATER SPANIELS) TO RETRIEVE CRIPPLED BEFORE PICKING UP DEAD WILDFOWL; how taught.—554. None of these Accomplishments so difficult to teach as a good range.—555. Might be taught by your Gamekeeper but not to be expected of regular Breaker.

SETTER TO RETRIEVE.

536. Undeniably there is some value in the extra number of shots obtained by means of highly broken dogs; and nearly as undeniable is it that no man, who is not over-rich, will term that teaching superfluous which enables him to secure in one dog the services of two. Now, I take it for granted (as I cannot suppose you are willing to lose many head of killed game), that you would be glad to be always accompanied in the field by a dog that retrieves. Unless you have such a companion, there will be but little chance of your often securing a slightly winged bird in turnips. Indeed, in all rough shooting, the services of a dog so trained are desirable to prevent many an unfortunate hare and rabbit from getting away to die a painful, lingering death; and yet, if the possession of a large kennel is ever likely to prove half as inconvenient to you as it would to me, you would do well, according to my idea of the matter, to dispense with a regular retriever, provided you have a highly broken setter who retrieves well.

537. I say setter rather than pointer, not on account of his more affectionate, and perhaps more docile disposition (for certainly he is less liable to sulk under punishment), but because, thanks to his long coat, he will be able to work in any cover, and that from nature he “roads” quicker.

I must, however, plead guilty (for many good sportsmen will think I evince bad taste) to a predilection for setters—meaning always cautious setters—a partiality, perhaps, attributable to having shot more over wild, uncertain ground than in well-stocked preserves. Doubtless, in a very enclosed country, where game is abundant, pointers are preferable, far preferable, more especially should there be a scarcity of water; but for severe and fast work, and as a servant of all work, there is nothing, I humbly conceive, like the setter.[97] He may be, and generally is, the more difficult to break; but when success has crowned your efforts, what a noble, enduring, sociable, attached animal you possess. I greatly, too, admire his long, stealthy, blood-like action,—(for I am not speaking of the large heavy sort before which in old days whole coveys used to be nettled), and the animated waving of his stern, so strongly indicative of high breeding; though, strange to say, in gracefulness of carriage the fox, when hunting, and actually on game, far excels him. But we are again getting astray beyond our proper limits; let us keep to the subject of dog-breaking.

538. As it will be your endeavour, during your pupil’s first season, to make him thoroughly stanch and steady, I cannot advise you (as a general rule liable, of course, to many exceptions—one of which is named in 317), to let him retrieve,—by retrieve I always mean fetch,—until the following year. There is another advantage in the delay. His sagacity will have shown him that the design of every shot is to bag the game—when, therefore, he has once been permitted to pick up a bird, he will be desirous of carrying it immediately to you, and will resist the temptation to loiter with it, mouthing and spoiling it; and however keenly he may have heretofore “sought dead,” he will henceforth search with redoubled zeal, from the delight he will experience in being permitted to carry his game. Moreover, the season’s shooting, without lifting, will have so thoroughly confirmed him in the “down charge,” that the increased[98] inclination to bolt off in search of a falling bird will be successfully resisted. If he has been taught while young to “fetch” (107, 109, &c.), he will be so anxious to take the birds to you, that instead of there being any difficulty in teaching him this accomplishment, you will often, during his first season, have to restrain him from lifting when he is “pointing dead.” The least encouragement will make him gladly pick up the birds, and give them, as he ought, to no one but yourself.

539. Suppose you possess no regular retriever—if, instead of lifting your game yourself, you accustom one of your pointers or setters to do so, you will occasionally, in some odd manner, bag a bird which you would otherwise inevitably lose. In 97 is given such an instance; and in Scotland, no later than last season, I saw another. An outlying cock-pheasant rose out of stubble. It was a long shot, but he was knocked over, falling into an adjoining piece of turnips. After the “down charge,” a pointer bitch accustomed to retrieve, was sent to fetch him. The moment she approached the bird, up he got, apparently as strong as ever, and flew over some rising ground, but wither, I had no idea, further than suspecting that he was making for a distant cover on forbidden ground. I, therefore, at once gave him up as lost. The dog, however, was more sanguine, for, to my great surprise, off she started in pursuit, clearly imagining it was quite a mistake of the pheasant’s. I soon lost sight of her, but, to my great gratification, I observed her, some little time afterwards, topping the hillock with the bird in her mouth. If she had been young, her chase after the pheasant might only have shown sad unsteadiness and wildness; but as she was a stanch sober old lady, it manifestly evinced nothing but,—it will be safest to say,—much intelligence and discrimination, lest you cavil at the words reason or reflection. I must own I should not.

540. You need hardly be cautioned not to let more than one dog retrieve the same bird. With more dogs than one the bird would, almost to a certainty, be torn: and if a dog once becomes sensible of the enjoyment he would derive in pulling out the feathers of a bird, you will find it difficult to make him deliver it up before he has in some way disfigured it.

A bitch that retrieved admirably, known to an acquaintance of mine, was on one occasion so annoyed at being interfered with by her companion, that, in a fit of jealousy, she actually bolted the partridge she was carrying lest “Jack” should come in for a nibble. I must confess I think it of much importance that a dog who retrieves should be tender-mouthed, for I own I like to put my birds by smooth and tidy, and, if I want them to keep long, take care to observe the old rule of hanging them (by their heads rather than their feet, that rain may not saturate the feathers) on the loops outside the game-bag until they are quite cool, before I allow them to become inside passengers; but I generally have their bodies placed within the netting, as for want of this precaution many a bird has been decapitated in the scramble through a thick hedge. Game, whether cool or warm, kept in a close Mackintosh bag, soon becomes unfit to send to any distance.

541. If you shoot with several dogs that retrieve, be careful always to let the dog who finds the game be the one to bring it. It is but fair that he should be so rewarded, and thus all will be stimulated to hunt with increased diligence.

542. Captain J——n, R.N., of Little B——w, Essex (well-known for the gallantry and skill he displayed when risking his own life to save that of many stranded on the Kentish coast), used to break in his own dogs, and retrieved them to show yet greater obedience and forbearance while retrieving. At one period he was in the habit of taking two pointers and a little spaniel into the field to hunt together,—the latter so small that he often carried it in his pocket when it was fatigued. The following kind of scene constantly occurred. One of the pointers would stand,—the other back,—so also would the spaniel. Captain J——n, after killing his bird and loading, probably said, “Don, go fetch it.” Don went forward to obey. “Stop Don.” Don halted. “Carlo, fetch the bird.” Carlo advanced. “Stop, Carlo.” Carlo obeyed. “Tiny, bring it.” The little creature did as ordered, and placed it in her master’s hand, the pointers meanwhile never moving.

543. I am not urging you to give up the time requisite to educate dogs so highly as this, but you see it can be done.

544. If the dog that found the covey be not able to wind the bird you have shot, make one of the other dogs take a large circuit. The latter may thus, without interfering with the first dog, come upon the bird, should it have run far. Send him in the direction the covey has taken—the chances are great the bird is travelling towards the same point. By pursuing this plan, obviously there will be much less chance of your losing a bird than if you allow the dogs to keep close together while searching. (See also 115.)

545. Do not think that by making your setter lift (after his first season), instead of “pointing dead,” there will be any increased risk of his raising unsprung birds. The difference between the scent of dead or wounded game, and that of game perfectly uninjured, is so great that no steady, experienced dog will fail to point any fresh bird he may come across whilst seeking for that which is lost.

As a proof of this I may mention that,

546. In North America I once saw three snipe lying on the ground, which a pointer, that retrieved, had regularly set one after the other, having found a couple on his way to retrieve the first, and which he afterwards brought in succession to his master, who had all the time governed the dog entirely by signs, never having been obliged to use his voice beyond saying in a low tone, “Dead,” or “Find.” I remember, also, hearing of a retrieving setter that on one occasion pointed a fresh bird, still retaining in her mouth the winged partridge which she was carrying,—and of a pointer who did the same when he was bringing a hare; there must, too, be few sportsmen who will not admit that they have found it more difficult to make a dog give up the pursuit of a wounded hare than of one perfectly uninjured. I know of a sportsman’s saying he felt certain that the hare his retriever was coursing over the moors must have been struck, although the only person who had fired stoutly maintained that the shot was a regular miss. The owner of the dog, however, averred that this was impossible, as he never could get the discerning animal to follow any kind of unwounded game; and, on the other hand, that no rating would make him quit the pursuit of injured running feather or fur. The retriever’s speedy return with puss, conveniently balanced between his jaws, bore satisfactory testimony to the accuracy of both his own and his master’s judgement. In December ’49, a woodcock that was struck hard took a long flight. A setter bitch I have often shot over came, quite unexpectedly to herself, on the scent of the bird when it was at such a distance from her that the party who had shot it felt sure she was on other game. Instead, however, of “setting,” the bitch, who, be it observed, is particularly steady, drew on, and after deliberately walking up to the woodcock, gave it a touseling, for she is not broken into “pointing dead.” It is certain that her olfactory nerves plainly told her there was no chance of its rising.

547. In corroboration of the correctness of the opinion I have just expressed, respecting the difference between the scent of injured and uninjured birds, I am glad to be permitted to make the following extract from a letter I lately received from Colonel T——y, spoken of in 99. He writes, “When shooting at Alresford, in Essex, last year, I had a singular instance of Venus’ sagacity in detecting the scent of wounded game. I was returning home, and while walking through a field of turnips a covey of birds got up near the fence. I winged one, which fell in the midst of some rabbits and pheasants feeding near the edge of the cover on the opposite side. Of course, they all bolted at the appearance of such an unwelcome visitor as the retriever—the rabbits into their burrows,—the pheasants into cover. My servant brought the bitch up to the place where I thought the bird had fallen. After puzzling about for some time, she took the trail about thirty yards down by the side of the fence, and then ‘set’ at a rabbit-hole. Thinking she was mistaken, I rated her and tried to get her away, but she stuck to her point. Determining, therefore, to ascertain the facts, we dug up the top part of a narrow fence, and bolted a couple of rabbits out of the hole, at the further end of which we found my wounded bird, an old Frenchman.”[99]

548. Some good sportsmen maintain that a retrieving setter (or pointer) on finding a dead bird ought to point it until directed to lift it. This training they hold to be advisable, on the ground that it conduces to the dog’s steadiness by diminishing his wish to run forward on seeing a bird fall; but the plan has necessarily this evil consequence, that should the setter, when searching for the dead bird, come across and point, as he ought, any fresh game, on your telling him to fetch it (as you naturally will), he must spring it if he attempt to obey you. Surely this would tend more to unsteady him than the habit of lifting his dead birds as soon as found? Your dog and you ought always to work in the greatest harmony—in the mutual confidence of your, at all times, thoroughly understanding each other—and you should carefully avoid the possibility of ever perplexing him by giving him any order it is out of his power to obey, however much he may exert himself. Moreover, if you teach your retrieving setter to “point dead,” you at once relinquish—surely unnecessarily?—all hope of ever witnessing such a fine display of sagacity and steadiness as has just been related in the first part of 546.

549. If you object to a setter’s being taught to lift on the ground, that it will make the other dogs jealous, pray remember that the argument has equal force against the employment of a regular retriever in their presence.

REGULAR RETRIEVER TO BEAT.

550. We all have our prejudices,—every Englishman has a right to many. One of mine is to think a regular retriever positively not worth his keep to you for general shooting if one of your setting dogs will retrieve well—but what an all-important “if” is this! However, if you shoot much in cover, I admit that a regular retriever which can be worked in perfect silence, never refusing to come in when he is merely signalled to, or, if out of sight, softly whistled to, is better[100] (particularly when you employ beaters), but even then he need not be the idler that one generally sees,—he might be broken in to hunt close to you, and give you the same service as a mute spaniel. I grant this is somewhat difficult to accomplish, for it much tends to unsteady him, but it can be effected,—I have seen it,—and being practicable, it is at least worth trying; for if you succeed, you, as before (536), make one dog perform the work of two; and, besides its evident advantage in thick cover, if he accompany you in your everyday shooting, you will thus obtain, in the course of a season, many a shot which your other dogs, especially in hot weather, would pass over. If, too, the retriever hunts quite close to you, he can in no way annoy his companions, or interfere with them, for I take it for granted he will be so obedient as to come to “heel” the instant he gets your signal.

551. Many regular retrievers take spontaneously to beating. Two brothers, named W——e, living at Grewell, in Hampshire, termed by the village wags, not inappropriately, “Watergruel” (there is good snipe and duck-shooting in the surrounding marshes), have a ranging-retriever (a Newfoundland), still young, now called “Nelly,” though, as a puppy, christened “Nelson” by the girls of the family. Miss Nelly, as if to give further proof of the impropriety of her original name, is remarkably timid, and therefore has been allowed to follow, unchecked, her own devices in the field. In imitation of her companions, she took to beating and pointing; and, after the “down charge,” would retrieve as zealously and efficiently as if she had never been allowed to “quit heel,” except for that express purpose. I have myself, when in the north, killed game to the voluntary point of “Sambo,” a black regular retriever, who was permitted to range close to the keeper. I have also shot to the point of “Bang,” a very handsome animal, a cross between a Newfoundland and a setter. Dogs so bred often, when ranging, take to pointing for a short period before dashing in; or can easily be made to do so,—thereby giving the gun a very acceptable caution.

552. The sire of “Venus”—honourable mention is made of her in 99—a very celebrated dog, had an invaluable quality as a retriever, though the very opposite of the range I have been recommending. He disturbed as little ground as possible during his search, and no fresh ground returning. After running with the greatest correctness a wounded pheasant through a large cover, he would invariably return upon the same track he had taken when first sent from “heel.” I confess I cannot see how this admirable habit could be taught by any one but Dame Nature. Is it not a beautiful instance of sagacity? But you will observe that, singularly good as was this regular retriever, he would have sprung the snipe at which the retrieving-pointer stood (546). For instructions regarding regular land retrievers, see 112 to 130.

WATER RETRIEVERS (or WATER SPANIELS)

TO RETRIEVE WOUNDED, BEFORE PICKING UP KILLED WILDFOWL.

553. This a knowing old dog will often do of his own accord; but you must not attempt to teach a young one this useful habit, until you are satisfied that there is no risk of making him blink his birds. You can then call him off when he is swimming towards dead birds, and signal to him to follow those that are fluttering away. If the water is not too deep, rush in yourself, and set him a good example by actively pursuing the runaways; and until all the cripples that can be recovered[101] are safely bagged, do not let him lift one of those killed outright. If very intelligent, he will before long perceive the advantage of the system, or at least find it the more exciting method, and adhere to it without obliging you to continue your aquatic excursions. (For advice about water retrievers, see 90 to 95.) I have placed this paragraph among the “refinements” in breaking; but I ought, perhaps, to have entered it sooner; for if you are fond of duck-shooting, and live in a neighbourhood where you have good opportunities of following it, you should regard this accomplishment as a necessary part of your spaniel’s education.

554. In your part of the country none of these extra, or, as some will say, always superfluous accomplishments may be required; but if you consider that a pupil of yours attaining any one of them would be serviceable, be not deterred from teaching it by the idea that you would be undertaking a difficult task. Any one of them, I was nearly saying all of them, could be taught a dog with far greater ease, and in a shorter time, than a well-established, judicious range.

555. It would be quite unreasonable to expect a regular breaker (“mark,” I do not say your gamekeeper) to teach your dog any of these accomplishments. He may be fully aware of the judiciousness of the system, and be sensible of its great advantages, but the many imperious calls upon his time would preclude his pursuing it in all its details. At the usual present prices it would not pay him to break in dogs so highly.