CHAPTER XIV. DISTINGUISHING WHISTLES. "BACKING" THE GUN. RETREAT FROM AND RESUMPTION OF POINT. RANGE UNACCOMPANIED BY GUN. HEADING RUNNING BIRDS. A DISTINGUISHING WHISTLE FOR EACH DOG.
271. Though you may have only begun to shoot last season, have you not often wished to attract the attention of one of your two dogs, and make him hunt in a particular part of the field, but for fear of alarming the birds, have been unwilling to call out his name, and have felt loath to whistle to him, lest you should bring away at the same time the other dog, who was zealously hunting exactly where you considered him most likely to find birds?272. Again: have the dogs never been hunting close together instead of pursuing distinct beats; and has it not constantly happened, on your whistling with the view to separate them, that both have turned their heads in obedience to the whistle, and both on your signal changed the direction of their beat, but still the two together? And have you not, in despair of ever parting them by merely whistling and signalling, given the lucky birds—apparently in the most handsome manner, as if scorning to take any ungenerous advantage—fair notice of the approach of the guns by shouting out the name of one of the dogs.273. Or, if one dog was attentive to the whistle, did he not gradually learn to disregard it from observing that his companion was never chidden for neglecting to obey it?—and did not such laxity more and more confirm both in habits of disobedience?274. I believe several of my readers will be constrained to answer these questions in the affirmative; and, further, I think their own experience will remind them of many occasions, both on moor and stubble when birds were wild, on which they have wished to attract the notice of a particular dog—perhaps running along a hedge, or pottering over a recent haunt; or hunting down wind towards marked game—by whistling instead of calling out his name, but have been unwilling to do so, lest the other dogs should likewise obey the shrill sound to which all were equally accustomed.275. Now, in breaking young dogs, you could, by using whistles of dissimilar calls, easily avoid the liability of these evils; and by invariably employing a particular whistle for each dog to summon him separately to his food—29—each would distinguish his own whistle as surely as every dog knows his own master's whistle, and as hounds learn their names. Dogs not only know their own names, but instantly know by the pronunciation when it is uttered by a stranger. To prevent mistakes, each dog's name might be marked on his own whistle. You might have two whistles, of very different sound, on one short stock. Indeed, one whistle would be sufficient for two dogs, if you invariably sounded the same two or three sharp short notes for one dog, and as invariably gave a sustained note for the other. Nay, the calls could thus be so diversified, that one whistle might be used for even more than two dogs.
But whatever whistle you choose to employ, be sure, both in and out of the field, to sound it softly whenever the dog is near you. Indeed, you would act judiciously to make it a constant rule, wherever he may be, never to whistle louder than is really requisite, otherwise—as I think I before remarked—he will, comparatively speaking, pay little attention to its summons, when, being at a distance, he hears it but faintly.
TO BACK THE GUN.
276. In shooting, especially late in the season, you will often mark down a bird, and feel assured that you stand a better chance of getting a shot at it if the dogs cease hunting whilst you approach it. You can teach your dog to do this by holding up your right hand behind you when you mark down a bird, saying at the same time, "Toho," in an earnest, quiet voice, and carrying your gun as if you were prepared to shoot. He will soon begin, I really must say it to back you,—for he actually will be backing you, ludicrous as the expression may sound. After a few times he will do so on the signal, without your speaking at all; and he will be as pleased, as excited, and as stanch, as if he were backing an old dog. Making him "drop" will not effect your object, for, besides that it in no way increases his intelligence, you may wish him to follow at a respectful distance, while you are stealing along the banks of some stream, &c. Ere long he will become as sensible as yourself that any noise would alarm the birds, and you will soon see him picking his steps to avoid the crisp leaves, lest their rustling should betray him. I have even heard of a dog whose admirable caution occasionally led him, when satisfied that his point was observed, to crawl behind a bush, or some other shelter, to screen himself from the notice of the birds.277. The acquisition of this accomplishment—and it is easily taught to a young dog previously made steady in backing another—it should not be attempted before—will often secure you a duck, or other wary bird, which the dog would otherwise, almost to a certainty, spring out of gun-shot. If you should "toho" a hare, and wish to kill one, you will have an excellent opportunity of practising this lesson.278. In America there is a singular duck, called, from its often alighting on trees, the Wood-duck. I have killed some of these beautiful, fast-flying birds, while they were seated on logs overhanging the water, which I could not have approached within gun-shot had the dog not properly backed the gun when signalled to, and cautiously crept after me, still remaining far in the rear.
TO RETREAT FROM A POINT AND RESUME IT.
279. Amidst coppices, osiers, or broom—indeed, some times on a rough moor—you will occasionally lose sight of a dog, and yet be unwilling to call him, feeling assured that he is somewhere steadily pointing; and being vexatiously certain that, when he hears your whistle, he will either leave his point, not subsequently to resume it, or—which is far more probable—amuse himself by raising the game before he joins you. There are moments when you would give guineas if he would retreat from his point, come to you on your whistling, lead you towards the bird, and there resume his point.280. This accomplishment—and in many places abroad its value is almost inappreciable—can be taught him, if he is under great command, by your occasionally bringing him in to your heel from a point when he is within sight and near you, and again putting him on his point. You will begin your instruction in this accomplishment when the dog is pointing quite close to you. On subsequent occasions, you can gradually increase the distance, until you arrive at such perfection that you can let him be out of sight when you call him. When he is first allowed to be out of your sight, he ought not to be far from you.281. You may, for a moment, think that what is here recommended contradicts the axiom laid down in 255; but it is there said, that nothing ought to make a dog "voluntarily" leave his point. Indeed, the possession of this accomplishment, so far from being productive of any harm, greatly awakens a dog's intelligence, and makes him perceive, more clearly than ever, that the sole object for which he is taken to the field is to obtain shots for the gun that accompanies him. When he is pointing on your side of a thick hedge, it will make him understand why you call him off;—take him down wind, and direct him to jump the fence: he will at once go to the bird, and, on your encouraging him, force it to rise on your side.282. You will practise this lesson, however, with great caution, and not before his education is nearly completed, lest he imagine that you do not wish him always to remain stanch to his point. Indeed, if you are precipitate, or injudicious, you may make him blink his game.283. After a little experience, he will very likely some day satisfactorily prove his consciousness of your object, by voluntarily coming out of thick cover to show you where he is, and again going in and resuming his point.
TO HUNT REGULARLY FROM LEEWARD TO WINDWARD WITHOUT THE GUN.
284. In paragraph 147 I observed, that when you are obliged, as occasionally must be the case, to enter a field to windward with your pupil, you ought to go down to the leeward side of it, keeping him close to your heels, before you commence to hunt. After undeviatingly pursuing this plan for some time, you can, before you come quite to the bottom of the field, send him ahead—by the underhand bowler's swing of the right-hand, IV. of 119,—and, when he has reached the bottom, signal to him to hunt to the right—or left. He will be so habituated to work under your eye—130—that you will find it necessary to walk backwards—up the middle of the field,—while instructing him. As he becomes, by degrees, confirmed in this lesson, you can sooner and sooner send him ahead—from your heel—but increase the distances very gradually,—until at length he will be so far perfected, that you may venture to send him down wind to the extremity of the field—before he commences beating,—while you remain quietly at the top awaiting his return, until he shall have hunted the whole ground, as systematically and carefully as if you had accompanied him from the bottom. By this method you will teach him, on his gaining more experience, invariably to run to leeward, and hunt up to windward—crossing and recrossing the wind—whatever part of a field you and he may enter. What a glorious consummation! and it can be attained, but only by great patience and perseverance. The least reflection, however, will show you that you should not attempt it until the dog is perfected in his range.285. A careful dog, thus practised, will seldom spring birds, however directly he may be running down wind. He will pull up at the faintest indication of a scent, being at all times anxiously on the look-out for the coveted aroma.286. Not only to the idle or tired sportsman would it be a great benefit to have a field thus beaten, but the keenest and most indefatigable shot would experience its advantages in the cold and windy weather customary in November, when the tameness of partridge-shooting cannot be much complained of; for the birds being then ever ready to take wing, surely the best chance, by fair means, of getting near them would be to intercept them between the dog and yourself.287. Here the consideration naturally arises, whether dogs could not be taught—when hunting in the ordinary manner with the gun in the rear—
TO HEAD RUNNING BIRDS.
Certainly it could be done. There have been many instances of old dogs spontaneously galloping off, and placing themselves on the other side of the covey—which they had pointed—as soon as they perceived that it was on the run,—and by good instruction you could develope or rather excite, that exercise of sagacity.288. If dogs are taught to "hunt from leeward to windward without the gun," they become habituated to seeing game intercepted between themselves and their masters,—and then their spontaneously heading running birds—though undeniably evincing great intelligence—would not be very remarkable. They would but reverse matters by placing themselves to windward of the birds while the gun was to leeward. This shows that the acquisition of that accomplishment would be a great step towards securing a knowledge of the one we are now considering. Indeed there seems to be a mutual relation between these two refinements in education, for the possession of either would greatly conduce to the attainment of the other.289. This accomplishment—and hardly any can be considered more useful—is not so difficult to teach an intelligent dog as one might at first imagine; it is but to lift him, and make him act on a larger scale, much in the manner described in 212 and 296. Like, however, everything else in canine education—indeed, in all education—it must be effected gradually; nor should it be commenced before the dog has had a season's steadying, then practise him in heading every wounded bird, and endeavor to make him do so at increased distances. Whenever, also, he comes upon the "heel" of a covey which is to leeward of him—instead of letting him "foot" it—oblige him to quit the scent and take a circuit—sinking the wind—so as to place himself to leeward of birds. He will thereby head the covey, and you will have every reason to hope that after a time his own observation and intellect will show him the advantage of thus intercepting birds and stopping them when they are on the run, whether the manoeuvre places him to leeward or to windward of them.290. If you could succeed in teaching but one of your dogs thus to take a wide sweep when he is ordered, and head a running covey before it gets to the extremity of the field—while the other dogs remain near you—you would be amply rewarded for months of extra trouble in training, by obtaining shots on days when good sportsmen, with fair average dogs, would hardly pull a trigger. And why should you not? Success would be next to certain if you could as readily place your dog exactly where you wish, as shepherds do their collies. And whose fault will it be if you cannot? Clearly not your dog's, for he is as capable of receiving instruction as the shepherd's.291. Manifestly it would be worth while to take great pains to teach this accomplishment, for in all countries it would prove a most killing one when birds become wild; and it would be found particularly useful wherever the red-legged partridge abounds,—which birds you will find do not lie badly when the coveys are, by any means, well headed and completely broken. But there are other accomplishments nearly as useful as those already detailed; the description of them, however, we will reserve for a separate Chapter.
