‘FOUL’ FEEDING.
‘FOUL’ FEEDING.
The keeper just spoken of used to rear his pheasants within doors, or rather in an outhouse, the floor of which was in part covered with sods of turf,—but I thinkJ——sT——n, another of the craft whom I know well, pursues a better and far less troublesomeplan. He selects a piece of clover[120]facing the south, and sheltered from the north and east winds by a contiguous small copse which he feels assured can harbour no destructive vermin. On this grass-plat, if the weather is fine, he places the common barn-door hens,—each with her brood the moment they are hatched,—under separate small coops. Two or three boards run from each coop, forming a temporary enclosure, which is removed in about a week on the little inmates gaining strength. If he has any fear of their being carried off by hawks, &c., he fixes a net overhead. The hens had sat on the eggs in an outhouse.
The first food given to the chicks is soaked bread,—and white of eggs cut up fine. The colour (is not that a bull?) catches their eye, which is the alleged reason for all their food being given to them white. Ants’ nests are procured for them,—of the red ant first,—of the larger kind, when the chicks become so strong that the insects cannot injure them—later in the season, wasps’ nests. When there is a difficulty in procuring any of these nests, curd is often given; but should it become sour, as frequently happens in hot weather, it is likely to occasion dysentery,[121]therefore oatmeal porridge made with milk is considered a safer diet. This is eagerly picked up when scattered about, sprinkled as it were,—and the weaker chicks are thus enabled to secure a fair share.T——nbreeds a quantity of maggots for them,—and at no expense,—in the adjacent copse. Whatever vermin he kills (whether winged or four-footed) he hangs up under a slight awning as a protection from the rain. On the flesh decaying the maggots drop into the box placed underneath to receive them. The insects soon become clean, if sand and bran is laid at the bottom of the box, and it is an interesting sight to see the excited little birds eagerly hurrying from all quarters to the grass-plat on the keeper striking the tray with his knuckles to invite them to partake of some choice maggots, spread out on sanded boards.
If a piece of carrion is placed under a wire netting near the coops, the chicks will feed with avidity on the flies it attracts.
Change of food is beneficial:—therefore, boiled barley or rice, is often substituted, or oatmeal, or Indian-corn meal,—mixed with the flesh of boiled rabbits.
Saucers of clean water are placed about. Water in a dirty state is very injurious. It is not of any depth, lest the chicks should wet their feathers when standing in it. Occasionally iron saucers are used, ingeniously designed on the ridge and furrow plan. Theridges are so little apart, that the chicks can insert no more than their heads into the furrows. As cleanliness must in all things be preserved, the coops are shifted a few feet aside twice a day.
The chicks soon quit the hens to roost in the shrubs, which afford welcome shade during the mid-day heat; but the imprisoned matrons are still useful, as their plaintive call prevents the chicks from becoming irreclaimable truants. As they have always the opportunity of running in the grass and copse, where they find seeds and insects, they quickly become independent, and learn to forage for themselves,—yet when fully grown up they are not so likely to stray away as birds who have been more naturally reared, and who have been made wanderers even in their infancy. This is a great advantage.
That the chicks may come upon fresh ground for seeds and insects, the situation of the coops may be occasionally changed. If liable to be attacked by vermin at night, a board can be fixed in front of each coop.
Partridges may be reared by the same means. But instances are rare of their laying while in a state of captivity.
That the young birds may be able to rid their bodies of vermin, they should be provided with small heaps of sand protected from rain, and dry earth, in which they will gladly rub themselves.
If you design rearing pheasants annually, always keep a few of the tame hens and a cock at home. By judicious management these will supply a large quantity of eggs for hatching,—eggs that you can ensure, when in their freshest state, being placed under barn-door hens. Keep the eggs in a cool place. I cannot believe that you will ever be guilty—for it is guilt, great guilt—of the sin ofpurchasingeggs. “Buyers make thieves,”—and one sneaking, watching, unwinged pilferer on two legs would do more mischief in the month of May than dozens of magpies or hooded crows.
Pheasants so soon hunt for their own subsistence, that they are brought to maturity at less expense than common fowls.
Since the publication of the second edition, I have had an opportunity of talking to Mr. Cantelo, the clever inventor of the novel hatching machine, whereby (following nature’s principle) heat is imparted only to the upper surface of eggs. He annually rears a large quantity of all kinds of poultry, besides partridges and pheasants, and I believe no one in England is so experienced in these matters.
He found it best not to give food to any kind of chicks for the two first days after they were hatched. As they would not all break the shell together, it is probable that in a state of nature many of them would be for, at least, this period under the hen before she led them forth to feed. To young turkeys and pheasants he gave no food for three days. They would then eat almost anything voraciously, whereas, when fed sooner, they become dainty and fastidious.
He recommends that the lean of raw beef, or any meat (minced fine, as if for sausages) be given to partridge or pheasant chicks,along with their other food,[122]or rather before their other food, and only in certain quantities; for if they are fed too abundantly on what they most relish, they are apt to gorge themselves, and they will seldom refuse meat, however much grain they may have previously eaten. He said that they should be liberally dieted, but not to repletion,—that once a day they should be sensible of the feeling of hunger.
It certainly is most consonant to nature, that the flesh given to the chicks should not be cooked; and Mr. Cantelo observed that it would be immediately found on trial, that young birds prefer that which is undressed,—nay, that which has a bloody appearance.
He considers maggots (gentles) an admirable diet, and he gave me a valuable hint about them. This is, that they be fattened on untainted meat, placed in the sand-box into which they fall. The pieces of meat will soon be drilled like a honey-comb, and the little crawlers, by becoming in a day or two large and fat, will prove a far more nourishing diet than when given in the attenuated state to which they are commonly reduced, by the present starving process of cleansing.
Mr. Cantelo has remarked that guinea-birds require food at an earlier period after they are hatched than any other sort of chick,—and that they and ducklings eat most meat,—turkey-poultry least.
Wet is injurious to all chickens (the duck-tribe excepted); and when the hen, from being confined, cannot lead her brood astray, they will, of themselves, return to her coop on finding the grass too damp.
Mr. Cantelo is strongly of opinion, that all diseases to which infant birds are liable are contagious. He advises, in consequence, that the moment any one of the brood is attacked with diarrhœa, sore eyes, or sneezing, it be instantly separated from the others.
He considers all chickens safe from ordinary diseases on their gaining their pen-feathers.
He has found thatnesteggs, not sat on for twelve hours, do not lose their vitality. This shows that eggs taken by mowers should not be hastily thrown away, in consequence of a considerable delay unavoidably occurring before they can be placed under a hen to complete their hatching.
Pheasants sit about five days longer than common fowls.
Mr. Cantelo recommends that eggs sent from a distance be packed in oats. He had succeeded in hatching some he had kept, as an experiment, upwards of two months in a temperate atmosphere,turning them daily. This continued vitality is, however, seldom a consideration as regards pheasants; for the earlier in the season the birds can be produced the better. It is a great advantage to have five months’ growth and feed in them by the first of October.
Mr. Knox, in his interesting work on “Game-birds and Wildfowl,” has given some good advice about the rearing and preservation of pheasants. I will make some extracts from it, and, I think, many would do well to read the whole book.
With respect to a pheasantry for procuring eggs, he is of opinion that in March,—the time when the cocks begin to fight,—the enclosure containing the stock of birds should be divided, by high hurdles, or wattles, into partitions, so that each cock may be told off with three hens into a distinct compartment. He advises that no harem should be greater in a state of confinement. His opportunities for forming a correct judgment have probably been greater than mine; but I must observe that I have known of ladies, kept in such small seraglios, being worried to death. “The larger the compartments,” he says, “the better;” “a heap of bushes and a mound of dry sand in each;” an attendant to visit them once (and but once) a day, to take in the food of “barley, beans, peas, rice, or oats; boiled potatoes, Jerusalem artichokes, and Swedish turnips;”[123]and to remove whatever eggs may have been laid during the preceding twenty-four hours.
The accidental destruction of the net overhanging Mr. Knox’s pheasantry, and the escape of the cocks, led to his ascertaining a fact of much importance; viz. that pinioned hens (one wing amputated at the carpal joint—“the wounds soon healed”) kept in an unroofed enclosure, near a cover, into which (what are called) “tame-bred pheasants” have been turned, will always attract sufficient mates—mates in a more healthy state than confined birds,—and that the eggs will be more numerous, and unusually productive.
I can easily imagine that such matrimonial alliances are sure to be formed wherever the opportunity offers; and if I were establishing a pheasantry, I would adopt the plan Mr. Knox recommends, unless withheld by the fear that more than one cock might gain admittance to the hens; for I am aware of facts which incline me to think, that, in such instances, the eggs may be unserviceable. At a connexion’s of mine, where the poultry-yard lies close to a copse, hybrid chickens have often been reared—the offspring of barn-door hens and cock-pheasantsnot tame-bred.
Mr. Knox elsewhere observes, that the hen-pheasants kept in confinement should be tame-bred; that is, be “birds which have been hatched and reared under domestic hens, as those which are netted, or caught, in a wild state, will always prove inefficient layers.” “About the fourth season a hen’s oviparous powers begin to decline, although her maternal qualifications, in other respects, do not deteriorate until a much later period. It is, therefore, of consequence to enlist, occasionally, a few recruits, to supply the place of those females who have completed their third year, and who then may be set at large in the preserves.” Of course, not those birds who have had the forehand of a wing amputated.
Talking of ants’ eggs, which Mr. Knox terms “the right hand of the keeper” in rearing pheasant chicks—it is the first food to be given to them—Mr. Knox says, “Some persons find it difficult to separate the eggs from the materials of the nest. The simplest mode is, to place as much as may be required—ants, eggs, and all—in a bag or light sack, the mouth of which should be tied up. On reaching home, a large white sheet should be spread on the grass, and a few green boughs placed round it on the inside, over which the outer edge of the sheet should be lightly turned; this should be done during sunshine. The contents of the bag should then be emptied into the middle, and shaken out so as to expose the eggs to the light. In a moment, forgetting all considerations of personal safety, these interesting little insects set about removing their precious charge—the cocoons—from the injurious rays of the sun, and rapidly convey them under the shady cover afforded by the foliage of the boughs near the margin of the sheet. In less than ten minutes the work will be completed. It is only necessary then to remove the branches; and the eggs, or cocoons, may be collected by handfuls, unencumbered with sticks, leaves, or any sort of rubbish.”
Mr. Knox goes on to say, that “green tops of barley, leeks, boiled rice, Emden groats, oatmeal, &c.,” are excellent diet for the chicks, but that this kind of food is “almost always given at too early a period. In a state of nature, their food, for a long time, would be wholly insectile.” “Now, as it is not in our power to procure the quantity and variety of small insects and larvæ which the mother-bird so perseveringly and patiently finds for them, we are obliged to have recourse to ants’ eggs, as easily accessible, and furnishing a considerable supply of the necessary sort of aliment in a small compass.”
“When the chicks are about a week or ten days old, Emden groats and coarse Scotch oatmeal may be mixed with the ants’ eggs; and curds, made from fresh milk, with alum, are an excellent addition. If ants’ nests cannot be procured in sufficient quantities, gentles should occasionally be given.”
When more wasps’ nests are obtained than are required for immediate use, “it will be necessary to bake them for a short time in an oven. This will prevent the larvæ and nymphs from coming to maturity,—in fact, kill them—and the contents of the combs will keep for some weeks afterwards. Hempseed, crushed and mingled with oatmeal, should be given them when about to wean them from an insect diet. Hard boiled eggs, also, form a useful addition, and may be mixed, for a long time, with their ordinary farinaceous food.”
“Young pheasants are subject to a kind of diarrhœa, which often proves fatal. If the disease be taken in time, boiled milk and rice, in lieu of any other diet, will generally effect a cure. To these chalk may be added, to counteract the acidity which attends this complaint; and should the symptoms be very violent, a small quantity of alum, as an astringent.”
This treatment appears reasonable. Many consider rice a judiciousdiet in such cases; and I know of a surgeon’s giving boiled milk with great success, in the West Indies, to patients suffering from diarrhœa.
“But the most formidable disease from which the young pheasant suffers is that known by the name of ‘the gapes:’—so termed from the frequent gaping efforts of the bird to inhale a mouthful of air. Chickens and turkeys are equally liable to be affected by it; and it may be remarked, that a situation which has been used, for many successive seasons, as a nursery ground, is more apt to be visited with this plague, than one which has only recently been so employed. Indeed, I have observed that it seldom makes its appearance on a lawn or meadow during the first season of its occupation; and, therefore, when practicable, it is strongly to be recommended, that fresh ground should be applied to the purpose every year: and when this cannot be done, that a quantity of common salt should be sown broadcast over the surface of the earth, after the birds have left it in the autumn.” He elsewhere describes the gapes as that “dreadful scourge, which, like certain diseases that affect the human subject, seems to have been engendered and fostered by excessive population within a limited district.”
“Dissection has proved that the latent cause of this malady is a minute worm of the geniusfasciola, which is found adhering to the internal part of the windpipe, or trachea.” Then Mr. Knox explains how this worm may be destroyed; (and only by such means,—the most delicate operator being unable to extract it without materially injuring the young bird)—viz. by fumigating with tobacco-smoke, according to the method (which he fully describes) recommended by Colonel Montagu. If the worm is not destroyed, the death of the bird ensues “by suffocation from the highly inflamed state of the respiratory apparatus.”
I once kept many guinea-birds when abroad; and I am now convinced that I should have succeeded in rearing a far greater number, had I adopted more closely the mode of feeding, &c., here recommended for young pheasants.
In July, ’57, I saw in a large clover field at Sandling, East Kent, 820 pheasant chicks which had been reared byM——nunder sixty-six common hens. It was a very interesting sight. I accompanied him round all the coops. They stood about twenty paces apart, and I could not detect a single bird with a drooping wing or of sickly appearance. He told me most positively that he had not lost one by disease, but a few had been trodden under foot by careless, awkward hens, and, what seems curious, some few chicks on quitting the shell had been intentionally killed by the very hens which had hatched them. A hatching hen will sometimes thus destroy ducklings,—but these are far more unlike her natural progeny than are pheasant chicks.M——nfound that game-fowls make the best mothers—Cochin-china the worst. He has a prejudice,—how doctors differ! against maggots and ants’ nests. However, he has a right to his notions, for he lost hardly any birds in the year ’56, out of the 400 and upwards that broke the shell. He devotes himself to what, withhim, is a labour of love. He has great, and just pride in his success. He maintains that pheasants can be reared cheaper than barn-door fowls, wherever there are woods, as the chicks find their own food at such an early age. The rearing of the birds that I saw and about fifty partridge-chicks, occupied the whole of his time and that of an assistant. There was also a boy to cook, &c. The chicks were fed every two hours throughout the day with a mixture of hard boiled eggs,[124]curds, bread-crumbs, rape and canary seed. The shutter of each hutch doing duty as a tray for the food. After the chicks had fedM——nmade his rounds, and scraped into a pot all that was not consumed, being careful that nothing was left to get sour. He gave a small portion of these remains to the imprisoned matrons. He feeds the chicks liberally, yet calculates to a great nicety what will be eaten, for on every shutter a portion, but a very small portion of food was left. Water, kept in earthenware pans made with concentric circles on the ridge and furrow system, was placed at intervals between the hutches. Many times a day he moved the several coops a few feet to fresh ground. At night when all the chicks have joined the hens he fastens the shutters, and does not remove them in the morning until the dew is off the grass. How entirely is this practice opposed to the advice of the Yorkshireman given at the commencement of this note! and yet it might be possible to reconcile the contradictory recommendations by supposing that as soon as the young birds have nearly reached maturity they are allowed to search for insects at the earliest dawn.M——n’slast location for the hutches would be in the centre of the landlord’s property, and they would not be taken away until the hens were quite abandoned by the young pheasants—which in general would be at the end of August. Differing much from Mr. Knox, it wasM——n’spractice to keep as many as five hens with one cock for the purpose of obtaining eggs. I observed that some hutches possessed a disproportionate number of inmates. This had arisen from the hutches having been placed in too close proximity before the chicks had the sense to know their respective foster-mothers.
Remarking once after a good battue in cover upon the fine condition of the birds spread in a long array on the lawn for the inspection of the ladies, I was told that the keeper greatly attributed their size and weight to keeping ridge and furrow pans near their feeding places constantly filled with bark-water. He used to boil from a quarter to half a pound of oak-bark in two gallons of water until it was reduced to half the quantity. After once tasting it the pheasants become fond of it, their natural instinct telling them the advantages of the tonic. A cross with the true China makes the young birds hardy and wild. The brilliancy of the plumage is much increased but not the size of the birds. However long Chinese pheasants may be kept in confinement they will be alarmed at the sight of strangers.
It is far more easy to get a well broken pointer than a well broken setter; but times may change, for clean farming, the sale of game, poaching, and poisoning of seed-grain, are now carried on to such an extent, and the present game-laws are so inefficacious, that, probably, our children will much prefer the hard-working setter to the pointer. What an encouragement to villany is it that poulterers will give a higher price for game that appears perfectly uninjured, than for what has been shot; andseldom ask questions! It is a pity that the sale of such game cannot be rendered illegal. The destructive net sweeps off whole coveys at a time. The darkest night affords no protection, for the lantern attached to the dog’s neck sufficiently shows when he is pointing at birds. A friend of mine in Kent, some years ago, wanted a partridge in order to break in a young bitch. Under a solemn promise of secrecy he was taken to an attic in an old house, not far from London, where he saw more than a hundred birds, ready for the market against the approaching first of September, running among the sheaves of corn standing in the corners of the room. To prevent the employment of the net, it has been recommended that the fields frequented by partridges should be staked, according to the method successfully followed in some preserved streams: but there are French gamekeepers who adopt a far less troublesome, and more effective plan. They themselves net the coveys at night, as soon as the harvest is collected, and turn them out again on the same ground the next evening, in the fullest confidence that the birds are henceforth safe from the poacher’s net: for, however carefully they may have been handled, they will have been so alarmed, that their distrust and wariness will effectually prevent their being again caught napping. Talking of poaching, I am led to observe that one well-trained bloodhound would be more useful in suppressing poaching than half-a-dozen under-keepers; for the fear poachers naturally entertain of being tracked to their homes at dawn of day, would more deter them from entering a cover, than any dread of being assailed at night by the boldest armed party. Even as compared with other dogs, the sensitiveness of the olfactory nerves of the bloodhound appears marvellous. Let one of pure breed but once take up the scent of a man, and he will hold it under the most adverse circumstances. No cross scents will perplex him.
At two o’clock on a frosty December morning in ’44, when the wind blew bitterly cold from the east, Mr.B——e, ofS——d, Warwickshire, was called up by the keepers of a neighbour, Mr.W——n, and informed that some poachers were shooting pheasants in a plantation belonging to Mr.B——e, whose keepers were on the look-outin a different direction. They and Mr.W——n’shad agreed to work in concert, and mutually assist each other.
Mr.B——einstantly dressed, and went out with his brother (CaptainB——), and the butler, making a party of eight, including Mr.W——n’skeepers. They took with them a couple of trained bloodhounds in long cords, a regular night-dog, and a young bloodhound which had broken loose, and, unsolicited, had volunteered his services.
“One well-trained bloodhound will be more useful.”—Page344.Larger image(238 kB)
“One well-trained bloodhound will be more useful.”—Page344.
Larger image(238 kB)
On entering the plantation, it was found that the poachers, having become alarmed, had made off. Two of the keepers remained to watch. The bloodhounds were laid on the scent. They took it up steadily, and the rest of the party followed in keen pursuit. As the poachers had not been seen, their number was unknown, but it was supposed to be about six from the report of the guns.
Notwithstanding the cold east wind and sharp frost the hounds hunted correctly, for about three miles, across fields, and along foot-pathsand roads, until they came to a wood of three hundred acres. They took the scent into the heart of it, evincing great eagerness. Here the hunt became most exciting, for the poachers were heard in the front crashing through the branches. A council of war was held, which unluckily ended, as many councils of war do, in coming to a wrong decision. It was resolved to divide forces, and endeavour to head the enemy. CaptainB——e, two men and one of the old hounds, turned down a ride towards which the poachers seemed to be inclining; while the others continued the direct chase. The poachers, however, soon broke cover, but had not run across many fields ere they were overtaken. The clear, bright moon showed eight well-armed men,—rather a disproportionate force for the attacking three. A fight ensued. The young hound and the watch-dog were shot. Mr.B——ewas lamed, and his two men being a good deal hurt, the poachers triumphed and resumed their flight. On CaptainB——erejoining the baffled party the pursuit was renewed for nine miles,—the dogs carrying the scent the whole way into Coventry, where they were stopped.
It was now half-past seven. Many early risers were about the streets; the police offered to point out the poachers, provided their identity could be sworn to. The hounds were stopped. Two men were apprehended—(a third escaped from the police)—were lodged in jail, and subsequently convicted and sentenced to eighteen months’ hard labour. As they had not been seen until the time of the scuffle, which took place fully five miles from Mr.B——e’splantation, the only evidence to prove they had been poaching there was furnished in the undeviating pursuit of the hounds. The remainder of the gang fled the country.
A farmer, several years ago, sent to the same Mr.B——eto say, that a sheep had been killed and carried off in the night. Six hours, to a certainty,—probably many more,—had elapsed since the animal had been stolen before Mr.B——ecould put the only hound he had with him on the scent. The dog, which was loose, hunted very slowly to a barn where the hidden skin was found; and afterwards, without any hesitation, held on the scent from the barn to the residence of a respectable person so wholly beyond all suspicion that the hound was called off. It was so late in the day, and along paths so much frequented, that it was thought the dog must have been hunting other footsteps than those of the real culprit. Mr.B——eat that moment was not aware that the respectable householder had taken in a lodger. This lodger, it subsequently appeared, was the thief, and in bed at the house at the time. Did not the Squire get well laughed at in all the adjacent beer-shops for his softness! However, this hunt, and another not very dissimilar under the head-keeper, effectually suppressed sheep-stealing in that neighbourhood.
The principal initiatory lesson for a bloodhound pup is to teach him to “road” well, as described in43. He should, too, be perfected in following quietly at “heel.” When commencing to teach him to follow the footsteps of the runner sent on in advance, it will be your aim to make the dog enjoy the scent and carry it on with eagerness.Therefore, that the man’s shoes may prove attractive, have them lightly rubbed with tainted meat (or blood). The savoury application may be progressively diminished in intensity, until at length the pup is guided only by the natural effluvia escaping from the man’s pores. Whenever the dog gets up to him, let it be a rule that he instantly reward the animal liberally with some acceptable delicacy.
After a time the fleetest and most enduring runner should be selected, and the interval between the time of his starting, and the moment when the hound is laid upon the scent, should be by degrees increased, until, at length, an hour and more will intervene.
The first lessons should be given early in the morning, when the dew is not quite off the grass; and the runner should be instructed to take a direction not likely to be crossed by others. Gradually the hound will be made to follow the scent under less favourable circumstances, as respects the state of the ground and the chance of the trail being interfered with.
It will be obvious that the example of an old well-trained hound would be very beneficial to the pup; and, if it can be so managed, he should not be thrown upon his own unaided resources, until he has acquired a tolerable notion of his business.
A young dog that works too fast must be brought to pursue at a pace regulated by your signals (end ofiv.of 141). That completes his education.
At night bloodhounds are generally held with a light cord, which restraint appears to lessen their wish to give tongue. Of course, they are checked if they do, that the poachers may not be warned of the pursuit.
A trained bloodhound will seldom endeavour to carry on the scent he has brought into a road, until he has tried the adjacent gates, gaps, and stiles.
Bloodhounds not confined are peaceable and,apparently, cowardly. They will rarely attack, unless provoked; but let them be once roused by a blow, and they become extremely savage. They also soon become savage if chained up, when they evince but little affection or obedience. Should they, by accident, get loose, they will more willingly allow a woman or a child to re-chain them than a man.
Bull-dogs have good noses. I have known of the cross between them and the mastiff being taught to follow the scent of a man almost as truly as a bloodhound. The dog I now particularly allude to was muzzled during the day when accompanying the keeper; and the appearance of the formidable-looking animal, and the knowledge of his powers, more effectually prevented egg-stealing than would the best exertions of a dozen watchers. He was the terror of all the idle boys in the neighbourhood. Every lad felt assured that, if once “Growler” were put upon his footsteps, to a certainty he would be overtaken, knocked down, and detained until the arrival of the keeper. The dog had been taught thus:—As a puppy he was excited to romp and play with the keeper’s children. The father would occasionally make one of them run away, and then set the pup on him.After a time he would desire the child to hide behind a tree, which gradually led the pup to seek by nose. An amicable fight always ensued on his finding the boy; and, as the pup grew stronger, and became more riotous than was agreeable, he was muzzled, but still encouraged to throw down the child. It is easy to conceive how, in a dog so bred, the instincts of nature eventually led to his acting his part in this game more fiercely when put upon the footsteps of a stranger.