FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[27]Entitled, "Field Sports in the United States and British Provinces, by Frank Forester."[28]A rule to be followed whenever you employ relays of braces.[29]250 to 300 dollars. This would be by no means an extraordinary price here, however extraordinary it might be to see dogs so qualified.—H.W.H.[30]It is admitted, however, that they are often difficult animals to manage; for theleasthastiness on the part of the instructor may create a distrust that he will find it very hard to remove.

[27]Entitled, "Field Sports in the United States and British Provinces, by Frank Forester."

[28]A rule to be followed whenever you employ relays of braces.

[29]250 to 300 dollars. This would be by no means an extraordinary price here, however extraordinary it might be to see dogs so qualified.—H.W.H.

[30]It is admitted, however, that they are often difficult animals to manage; for theleasthastiness on the part of the instructor may create a distrust that he will find it very hard to remove.

174. To proceed, however, with our imaginary September day's work. I will suppose that your young dog has got upon birds, and that from his boldness and keenness in hunting you need not let him run riot on a haunt, as you were recommended (in111) when you wished to give courage and animation to a timid dog. You must expect that his eagerness and delight will make him run in and flush them, even though you should have called out "Toho" when first you perceived his stern beginfeathering, and thence judged that his olfactory nerves were rejoicing in the luxurious taint of game. Hollo out "Drop" most energetically. If he does not immediately lie down, crack your whip loudly to command greater attention. When you have succeeded in making him lie down, approach him quietly: be not angry with him, but yet be stern in manner. Grasping the skin of his neck, or, what is better, putting your hand within his collar—for he ought to wear a light one—quietly drag him to the precise spot where you think he wasfirstaware of the scent of the birds. There make him stand—if stand he will, instead of timidly crouching—with his head directed towards the place from which the birds took wing, and by frequently repeating the word "Toho," endeavor to make him understand that he ought to have pointed at that identical spot. Do not confuse him by even threatening to beat him. The chances are twenty to one that he is anxious to please you, but does not yet know what you wish. I assume also that he is attached to you, and his affection, from constantly inducing him to exert himself to give satisfaction, will greatly develope his observation and intelligence.

175. Consider it a golden rule never to be departed from—for I must again impress upon you a matter of such importance—invariably to drag a dog who has put up birds incautiously, or wilfully drawn too near them, and so sprung them—or, what is quite as bad,—though young sportsmen will not sufficiently think of it,—endangeredtheir rising out of shot—to the exact spot at which you judge he ought to have pointed at first, and awaited your instructions.

176. Think for one moment what could be the use of chiding—or beating, as I have seen some ***** do—the poor animal at the spot where he flushed the birds. You are not displeased with him (or ought not to be) because the birds took wing,—for if they had remained stationary until he was within a yard of them, his fault would have been the same: nor are you angry with him because he did not catch them—which interpretation he might, as naturally as any other, put upon your rating him at the spot where he flushed them—you are displeased with him fornot having pointedat them steadily the moment he became sensible of their presence. This is what you wish him to understand, and this you can only teach him by dragging him, as has been so often said, to the spot at which he ought to have "toho-ed" them. Your object is to give the young dog, by instruction, the caution that most old dogs have acquired by experience. Doubtless experience would in time convince him of the necessity of this caution; but you wish to save time,—to anticipate that experience; and by a judicious education impart to him knowledge which it would take him years to acquire otherwise. What a dog gains by experience is not what you teach him, but what he teaches himself.

177. Many carelessly-taught dogs will, on first recognising a scent, make a momentary point, and then slowlycrawl on until they get within a few yards of the game—if it be sufficiently complaisant to allow of such a near approach—and there "set" as steady as a rock by the hour together. Supposing, however, that the birds are in an unfriendly, distant mood, and not willing to remain on these neighborly terms, "your game is up," both literally and metaphorically,—you have no chance of getting a shot. This is a common fault among dogs hastily broken in the spring.

178. But to resume our supposed lesson. You must not be in a hurry—keep your dog for some time—for a long time, where he should have pointed. You may even sit down alongside him. Be patient; you have not come out so much to shoot, as to break in your dog. When at length you give him the wave of the hand to hie him on to hunt, you must not part as enemies, though I do not say he is to be caressed. He has committed a fault, and he is to be made sensible of it by your altered manner.

Suppose that, after two or three such errors, all treated in the way described, he makes a satisfactory point. Hold up your right hand, and the moment you catch his eye, remain quite stationary, still keeping your arm up. Dogs, as has been already observed, are very imitative; and your standing stock still will, more than anything else, induce him to be patient and immovable at his point. After a time—say five minutes, if, from the hour of the day and the dog's manner, you are convinced that the birds are not stirring—endeavor to get up tohim so quietly as not to excite him to move. Whenever you observe him inclined to advance,—of which his lifting a foot or even raising a shoulder, or the agitation of his stern will be an indication,—stop for some seconds, and when by your raised hand you have awed him into steadiness, again creep on. Make your approaches within his sight, so that he may be intimidated by your eye and hand. If you succeed in getting near him without unsettling him, actually stay by him, as firm as a statue, for a quarter of an hour by one of Barwise's best chronometers. Let your manner, which he will observe, show great earnestness. Never mind the loss of time. You are giving the dog a famous lesson, and the birds are kindly aiding you by lying beautifully and not shifting their ground.

179. Now attempt a grandcoup, in which if you are successful, you may almost consider your dog made staunch for ever. Keeping your eye on him, and your hand up—of course the right one—make a circuit, so that the birds shall be between him and you. Be certain that your circle is sufficiently wide—if it is not, the birds may get up behind you, and so perplex him that at his next find he will feel doubtful how to act. Fire at no skirter, or chance shot. Reserve yourself for the bird or birds at which he points; a caution more necessary on the moors than on the stubbles, as grouse spread while feeding. When you have well headed him, walk towards him and spring the birds. Use straight shooting-powder. Take a cool aim well forward, and knockdown one. Do not flurry the dog by firing more than a single barrel, or confuse him by killing more thanonebird. If you have been able to accomplish all this without his stirring—though, to effect it, you may have been obliged to use your voice—you have every right to hope, from his previous education, that he will readily "down-charge" on hearing the report of your gun. Do not hurry your loading:—indeed, be unnecessarily long, with the view of making him at all such times patient and steady. If, in spite of all your calls and signals, he ever gives chase to the sprung birds, make him "drop,"—instantly if possible—and proceed much as described in174, dragging him back to the place where he should have "down-charged."

180. When you have loaded, say "Dead,"[31]in a low voice, and signalling to "heel" make him come up to you, yourself keeping still. By signs—XI. of119—place him as near as you can,but to leewardof the dead bird. Then, and not till then, say, "Find;" give him no other assistance. Let him have plenty of time to make out the bird. It is not to be find andgrip, but find andpoint,[32]therefore the moment you perceive he is awarethat it is before him, make him—by word of command—"toho:"—go up to him, stay for a while alongside him, then make a small circuit to head him, and have the bird between you and him; approach him. If he attempt to dash in, thunder out "No," and greet him with at least the sound of the whip: slowly pick up the dead bird; call the dog to you; show him the bird; but on no account throw it to him, lest he snatch at it; lay it on the ground, encourage him to sniff it; let him—for reason why see216—turn it over with his nose—teeth closed—say to him, "Dead, dead;" caress him; sit down; smoothe the feathers of the bird; let him perceive that you attach much value to it; and after a while loop it on the game bag, allowing him all the time to see what you are doing. After that, make much of him for full five minutes: indeed with some dogs it would be advisable to give a palatable reward, but be not invariably very prodigal of these allurements; you may have a pupil whose attention they might engross more than they ought. Then walk about a little time with him at your heels. All this delay and caressing will serve to show him that the first tragedy is concluded, and has been satisfactorily performed. You may now hie him on to hunt for more birds.

181. Pray mind what is said about making your youngster point the dead bird staunchly, the moment you perceive that he first scents it. Should he be allowed toapproach so near as to be able to touch it—instead of being made to point the instant he finds,—the chances are, that if hard-mouthed he will give it a crunch, if tender-mouthed a fumbling of the feathers; and either proceeding satisfying him, that he will quit it, and not further aid you in a search. As "pointing" is only a natural pause—prolonged by art—to determine exactly where the game is lying, preparatory to rushing forward to seize, it would be unreasonable to expect him willingly to make a second point at game he has not only found but mouthed—the evil, however, does not rest here. There is such a disagreeable thing as blinking a dead bird, no less than blinking a sound one. For mouthing the bird you may possibly beat the dog, or for nosing it and not pointing you may rate him harshly, either of which, if he be not of a bold disposition, may lead, on the next occasion, to his slinking off after merely obtaining a sniff. You ought, in fact, to watch as carefully for your pupil's first "feathering" upon the dead bird, as you did—174—upon his first coming upon the covey. You see, then, that your teaching him to "point dead" is absolutely indispensable; unless, indeed, you constantly shoot with a retriever. Pointing at a live bird or at a dead one should only differ in this, that in the latter case the dog makes a nearer point.Begincorrectly, and you will not have any difficulty; but you may expect the greatest if you let your dog go up to one or two birds and mouthe them, before you commence making him point them. The following season, should you thenpermit him to lift his game, it will be time enough to dispense with his "pointing dead." I dwell upon this subject because many excellent dogs, from not having been properly taught to "point dead," often fail in securing the produce of a successful shot, while, on the contrary, with judiciously educated dogs it rarely happens that any of the slain or wounded are left on the field. Moreover, the protracted search and failure—as an instance see217—occasions a lamentable loss of time. Were a sportsman who shoots over dogs not well broken to "point dead"—or retrieve—to calculate accurately, watch in hand, he would, I think, be surprised to find how many of his best shooting hours are wasted in unprofitable searching for birds of the certainty of whose untimely fate his dogs had probably long before fully convinced themselves.

182. As to the word "Dead," whether you choose to continue using it immediately after loading, or, as I have recommended—XI. of119—after a timeomit it, and merely let the signal to "heel" intimate that you have killed, always make your dog go to you before you allow him to seek for the fallen bird.

183. Some may say, "As a dog generally sees a bird fall, what is the use of calling him to you before you let him seek?—and even if he does not see the bird, why should any time be lost? Why should not you and he go as direct to it as you can?"

184. Provided you have no wish that the "finder"—see295—rather than any of his companions, should beallowed the privilege of "seeking dead," I must admit that in the cultivated lands of England, when a dog "sees a bird fall," he might in nine cases out of ten go direct to it without inconvenience. Even here, however, there are occasions when intervening obstacles may prevent you observing what the dog is about; and in cover, so far from being able to give him any assistance by signalling, you may be ignorant whether or not he has seen the bird knocked over, or is even aware of the general direction in which he ought to seek. But in the oft-occurring cases in which "he does not see the bird fall," it is obvious—particularly when he happens to be at the extremity of his beat,—that you will far more quickly place him where you wish, if you make him, at first, run up to you, and then advance from you, straight to the bird, by your forward signal—190. These good results at least will follow, if you remain stationary, and make him join you. You do not lose sight of the spot where you marked that the bird or birds fell. The foil is not interfered with by your walking over the ground—a matter of much importance, especially on bad-scenting days. The dog, if habituated to "seek" without your companionship, will readily hunt morasses and ravines, where you might find it difficult to accompany him. He will feel the less free to follow his own vagaries; and this consciousness of subjection will dispose him to pay more watchful attention to your signals. He will the more patiently wait at the "down charge;" and when you are reloaded will not be so tempted to dash recklesslyafter the bird, regardless whether or not he raises others on the way. If he is dragging a cord, you can the more easily take hold of its end, in order to check him, and make him point when he first winds the dead bird—and, should you be shooting over several dogs, by none of them being permitted to run direct to the fallen bird they will the less unwillingly allow you to select the one who is to approach close to you before "seeking dead."

185. The opponents of this method argue, that the practice may give the dog the bad habit of running immediately after the "down charge" to the gun, instead of recommencing to hunt; particularly if he is shot over by a first-rate performer. Granted; but is not the temptation to bolt off in search of a dead bird still stronger? To check the former evil, endeavor to make the coming to "heel" an act of obedience rather than a voluntary act, by never failing, as soon as you are re-loaded, to give the customary signal—VIII. of119—when you have killed, or the signal to "hie on" should you have missed.

186. Moreover, you will sometimes meet with a dog who, when a bird has been fired at, though it be the first and only one sprung of a large covey, commences "seeking dead" immediately after the "down charge," apparently considering that his first duty. This sad, sad fault—for it frequently leads to his raising the other birds out of shot—is generally attributable to the dog's having been allowed to rush at the fallen bird, instead ofbeing accustomed to the restraint of having first to run up to the gun.

187. To prevent your pupil ever behaving so badly, often adopt the plan of not "seeking dead" immediately after loading, especially if the birds are lying well. Mark accurately the spot where your victim lies, and closely hunt for others, endeavoring to instil great caution into the dog, much in the manner—being guided by his disposition and character—described in144,145, and228. As long as any of the covey remain unsprung, you ought not to pick up one dead bird, though you should have a dozen on the ground. Your dog ought not even to "down charge" after you have fired, if he is fully aware that more birds are before him. To impart to him the knowledge that,however important is the "down charge," his continuing at his point is still more so, you may, when the birds are lying well and he is at a fixed point, make your attendant discharge a gun at a little distance while you remain near the dog, encouraging him to maintain his "toho." If you have no attendant, and the birds lie like stones, fire off a barrel yourself while the dog is steadily pointing. He will fancy you see birds which he has not noticed, and, unless properly tutored and praised by you, will be desirous to quit those he has found, to search for the bird he conceives you have shot.

188. It is a fine display of intelligence in the dog, and of judicious training in the breaker—may it be your desert and reward ere long to witness it in your pupil,—whena pointer—or setter—in goodly turnips or strong potatoes draws upon birds which obligingly rise one after the other, while by continuing his eloquent attitude he assures you that some still remain unsprung, to which he is prepared to lead you if you will but attend to them and him, and, instead of pot-hunting after those you have killed, wait until his discriminating nose informs him that, having no more strangers to introduce, he is at liberty to assist you in your search.

189. To revert, however, to the point particularly under discussion, viz., whether you prefer that your dog go direct to the fallen bird, or—as I strongly recommend—that he first join you, pray be consistent, exact which you will, but always exact the same, if you are anxious to obtain cheerful unhesitating obedience.

190. I have seen the advantage of the latter method very strikingly exemplified in America, in parts of which there is capital snipe-shooting.[33]In the high grass and rushes on the banks of the Richelieu, many a bird have I seen flushed and shot at, of which the liver and white pointer, ranging at a little distance, has known nothing. As he was well broken in, on hearing the report of the gun, he, of course, dropped instantly. His master, when he had reloaded, if the bird had fallen, used invariably to say "Dead,"[34]in a low tone of voice, on which thedog wouldgo up to him; and then his master, without stirring from the spot where he had fired, directed him by signals to the place where the bird had tumbled, and in proceeding thither, the dog often had to swim the stream. His master then said "Find." At that word, and not before it, his intelligent four-footed companion commenced the search for the bird, nor did he ever fail to find and bring; and so delicate was his mouth that I have often seen him deliver up a bird perfectly alive, without having deranged a feather, though, very probably, he had swam with it across one of the many creeks which intersect that part of the country. If the shot was a miss, his master's silence after reloading, and a wave of his arm to continue hunting—or the command to "Hie on," if the dog was hidden by the rushes—perhaps a low whistle would have been better,—fully informed his companion of the disappointment. He was quite as good on the large quail, and small wood-cock found in Canada, which latter makes a ringing noise on rising, not unlike the sound of a distant soft bell; but reminiscences of that capital old dog are leading me away from your young one.

191. For some days you cannot shoot to your pupil too steadily and quietly—I had well nigh said too slowly. By being cool, calm, and collected yourself, you will make him so. I am most unwilling to think that you will be too severe, but I confess I have my misgivings lest you should occasionally overlook some slight faults in the elation of a successful right and left. Filling the game-bag must be quite secondary to education. Never hesitate to give up any bird if its acquisition interfere with a lesson. Let all that you secure be done according to rule, and in a sportsmanlike manner.

SETTERS.—Bob.SETTERS.—Bob.

FOOTNOTES:[31]As he acquires experience he will wish to rise the moment he observes that your loading is completed. Do not allow him to move, however correctly he may have judged the time. Let his rising be always in obedience to signal or word. You may make a mistake in charging, or your friend may not load as expeditiously as yourself.[32]Never being allowed to grip conduces so much to making him tender-mouthed, that, should he hereafter be permitted to lift his game, it is probable he will deliver it up perfectly uninjured.[33]I reserve this anecdote on account of its interest and applicability to American readers.—H.W.H.[34]In order to work in silence, I advised—XI. of119—that the signal to "heel" whenever the dog could observe it, should supersede the word "dead." It might be necessary to sing out with a boat-swain's voice should the dog be far off.

[31]As he acquires experience he will wish to rise the moment he observes that your loading is completed. Do not allow him to move, however correctly he may have judged the time. Let his rising be always in obedience to signal or word. You may make a mistake in charging, or your friend may not load as expeditiously as yourself.

[32]Never being allowed to grip conduces so much to making him tender-mouthed, that, should he hereafter be permitted to lift his game, it is probable he will deliver it up perfectly uninjured.

[33]I reserve this anecdote on account of its interest and applicability to American readers.—H.W.H.

[34]In order to work in silence, I advised—XI. of119—that the signal to "heel" whenever the dog could observe it, should supersede the word "dead." It might be necessary to sing out with a boat-swain's voice should the dog be far off.

192. 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.

193. As in the present instance, it often occurs that adog 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.

194. 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 arepositivethat 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—178,179.

195. As a general rule, an attendant or any companion cannot be recommended, because he would be likely to distract a young dog's attention; but an intelligent fellow who would readily obey your signals, and notpresume 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 immovable 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.

196. 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, andhas 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 thatto seek for them by crossing the wind would be a better method.

The great advantage of teaching a dog to point the instant he is sensible of the presence of birds—175—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.

197. 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. 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 entirely controlled and regulated by your signals. These being given with your right hand will be moreapparent to him if you place yourself on his left side. It is in this manner that you give him a lesson which willhereaftergreatly 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 endeavor 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.

198. 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 yourefforts, remain provokingly immovable—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.

199. 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 he often naturally assumes when pointing.

200. I here desire 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 to144.

201. After you have shot over a dog a short time, hismanner 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 begins 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,apparentlywith the wish to show you where the birds are, andcertainlywith the desire to get you a shot.

202. After a few trials you will, I hope, be able to dispense with the peg recommended in194, and soon after with the checkcord also. But if your dog possesses unusually high spirits, or if he travels over the ground at a pace which obviously precludes his making a proper use of his nose, it may be advisable to fasten to his collar a bar, something like a diminutive splinter-bar, that it may, by occasional knocking against his shins,feelingly admonish him to lessen his stride. If he gets it between his legs and thus finds it no annoyance, attach it to both sides of his collar from points near the extremities. One of his forelegs might occasionally be passed through the collar; but this plan is not so good as the other; nor as the strap on the hind leg—56. These means—to be discarded, however, as soon as obedience is established—are far better than thetemporaryascendancy which some breakers establish by low diet and excessive work, which would only weaken his spirits and his bodily powers, without eradicating his self will, or improving his intellect. You want to force him, when he is in the highest health and vigor, to learn by experience the advantage of letting his nose dwell longer on a feeble scent.

203. I have made no mention of the spiked collar, because it is a brutal instrument, which none but the most ignorant or unthinking would employ. It is a leather collar, into which nails, much longer than the thickness of the collar, have been driven, with their points projecting inwards. The French spike-collar is nearly as severe. It is formed of a series of wooden balls,—larger than marbles,—linked—about two and a half inches apart—into a chain by stiff wires bent into the form of hooks. These sharp pointed hooks punish cruelly when the checkcord is jerked.

204. We have, however, a more modern description of collar, which is far less inhuman than either of those I have mentioned, but still I cannot recommend itsadoption, unless in extreme cases; for though not so severely, it, likewise, punishes the unfortunate dog, more or less, by the strain of the checkcord he drags along the ground: and it ought to be the great object of a good breaker as little as is possible to fret or worry his pupil, that all his ideas may be engaged in an anxious wish to wind birds. On a leather strap, which has a ring at one end, four wooden balls—of about two inches in diameter—are threaded like beads, at intervals from each other and the ring, say, of two inches—the exact distance being dependent on the size of the dog's throat. Into each of the balls sundry short pieces of thickish wire are driven, leaving about one-sixth of an inch beyond the surface. The other end of the strap—to which the checkcord is attached—is passed through the ring. This ring being of somewhat less diameter than the balls, it is clear, however severely the breaker may pull, he cannot compress the dog's throat beyond a certain point. The effect of the short spikes is rather to crumple than penetrate the skin.

205. I have long been sensible of the aid a spiked collar would afford in reclaiming headstrong, badly educated dogs, if it could be used at the moment—and only at the precise moment when punishment was required,—but not until lately did it strike me how the collar could be carried so that the attached cord should not constantly bear upon it, and thereby worry, if not pain the dog. And had I again to deal with an old offender, who incorrigibly crept in after pointing, orobstinately "rushed into dead," I should feel much disposed to employ a slightly spiked collar in the following manner.

206. That the mere carrying the collar might not annoy the dog, I would extract or flatten the nails fixed on the top of the collar, on the part, I mean, that would lie on the animal's neck. This collar I would place on his neck, in front of his common light collar. I would then firmly fasten the checkcord, in the usual way, to the spiked collar; but, to prevent any annoyance from dragging the checkcord, at about five or six inches from the fastening just made I would attach it to the common collar, with very slight twine—twine so slight that, although it would not give way to the usual drag of the checkcord, however long, yet it would readily break on my having to pull strongly against the wilful rush of an obstinate dog, when, of course, the spikes would punish him, as the strain would then be borne by the spiked collar alone.

207. Guided by circumstances, I would afterwards either remove the spiked collar, or, if I conceived another bout necessary, refasten the checkcord to the common collar with some of the thin twine, leaving, as before, five or six inches of the checkcord loose between the two collars.

208. If you should ever consider yourself forced to employ a spiked collar, do not thoughtlessly imagine that the same collar will suit all dogs. The spikes for a thin coated pointer ought to be shorter than for a coarsehaired setter! You can easily construct one to punish with any degree of severity you please. Take a common leather collar; lay its inner surface flat on a soft deal board: through the leather drive with a hammer any number of tacks or flat-headed nails: then get a cobbler to sew on another strap of leather at the back of the nails, so as to retain them firmly in position.

209. I have supposed that your dog hasscentedthe birds before they rose, but if he springs them without having previously noticed them—as in some rare cases happens even to well-bred dogs—youmustbring him back to the spot at which you feel assured that he ought to have been sensible of their presence, andtheremake him "Toho." Afterwards endeavor to make him aware of the haunt by encouraging him to sniff at the ground that the birds have just left. The next time watch very carefully for theslightestindication of his feathering, and then instantly call out "Toho." After a few times he will, to a certainty, understand you.

210. You should kill outright the few first birds at which you fire. I would infinitely prefer that you should miss altogether than that one of the two or three first birds should be a runner. Afterwards you have full leave to merely wing a bird; but still I should wish it not to be too nimble. This is a good trial ofyourjudgment as well as the dog's. I hope he is to leeward of the bird, and that it will not catch his eye. See he touches on the haunt. Do not let him work with his nose to the ground. "Up, up," must be your encouraging words,—or"On, on," according to circumstances,—whilst with your right hand—iv.of119—you are alternately urging and restraining him, so as to make him advance at a suitable pace. From his previous education, not being flurried by any undue dread of the whip, he will be enabled to give his undisturbed attention, and devote all his faculties to follow unerringly the retreating bird. But from inexperience he may wander from the haunt. On perceiving this, bring him, by signals, back to the spot where he was apparently last aware of the scent. He will again hit it off. If you view the bird ever so far ahead, on no account run. I hope you will at length observe it lie down. Head it, if possible, and strike it with your whip, if you think you will be unable to seize it with your hand. Endeavor to prevent its fluttering away;—it is too soon to subject the youngster to such a severe trial of his nerves and steadiness. Then,—having put the poor creature out of its misery, by piercing its skull, or rapping its head against your gun, as before—180—show your dog the gratifying prize which your combined exertions have gained.

211. Should he unluckily have caught sight of the running bird, and, in spite of all your calls, have rushed forward and seized it, you ought to have proceeded as described in221. Clearly, however, you would not have dragged the dog back to the place where he "down charged," but merely to the spot from which he had made his unlawful rush. If the bird had been very active, it would have been far better to have fired at it asecond time—while it was running—than to have incurred the risk of making your dog unsteady by a wild pursuit. Suppose that it was not winged, but rose again on your approaching it, and fluttered off,—a hard trial for the young dog,—you must, however, have made him bear it, and obey your loud command to "drop,"—you would—or should—have taken another shot, and have proceeded in exactly the same manner as if this had been your first find—179,180.

212. As the wounded bird was to windward of the dog, the course to follow was obvious,—it was plain sailing; but the case would have varied greatly if the dog had been to windward. Had you pursued the usual plan, he must have roaded the bird by the "foot;" and the danger is, that in allowing him to do so, you may create in him the evil habit of hunting with his nose close to the ground, which is, above all things, to be deprecated. You have another mode—you can "lift" the dog—I suppose you know the meaning of that hunting term,—and make him take a large circuit, and so head the bird, and then proceed as if it had fallen to windward.

213. The latter plan would avoid all risk of your making him a potterer, and it is, I think, to be recommended, if you find him naturally inclined to hunt low. But the former method, as a lesson in "footing," must be often resorted to, that he may learn unhesitatingly to distinguish the "heel" from the "toe," and how to push an old cock-grouse, or to flush a pheasant running through cover, or the red-legged, I was nearly saying,the everlasting-legged partridge;[35]and, indeed, generally, how to draw upon his birds, and with confidence lead you to a shot, when they are upon the move and running down wind.—See end of98; and for further directions, and for "seeking dead" with two dogs, look at296. The heavy Spanish pointer, from his plodding perseverance and great olfactory powers, was an excellent hand at retrieving a slightly injured bird on a broiling, bad scenting day.

214. When I advised you—180—to let the dog "have plenty of time to make out the bird," I spoke from personal experience, and from a vivid recollection of errors committed in my novitiate. A young hand is too apt to imagine that every bird which falls to his gun is killed outright, and lying dead on the spot where it fell. He will, therefore, often impatiently, and most injudiciously, call away the dog who, at a little distance, may have hit-off the trail of the winged bird, and be "footing" it beautifully.

215. If in these lessons you should lose one or two wounded birds, though it might not be a matter of any moment to yourself personally, it would be extremely vexatious on the dog's account, because, in this early stage of his education, it would tend to discourage him. The feeling which you must anxiously foster in him isthis, that after the word "find"[36]the search must never be relinquished, even though he be constrained to hunt from morning till night. And it is clear that to make an abiding, valuable impression, this lesson must be inculcated on the several first occasions with unremitting, untiring diligence.

216. Persevere, therefore, for an hour, rather than give up a wounded bird. Join in the search yourself. Even if you see where it lies, do not pick it up hastily. On the contrary, leave it, but mark well the spot. Keep on the move. Hold your gun as if in expectation of a rise. Pretend to seek for the bird in every direction, even for a good half hour, if you can encourage your dog to hunt so long. If, indeed, you see him flag, and get wearied and dispirited, gradually bring him close, but to leeward of the spot where the bird lies, in order to make him "point dead" and be rewarded for all his diligence by finding it himself. Let him, also, have a good sniff at it and nose it—but let there be no biting or mouthing—before you put it into the bag. Otherwise, what return has he for the pains he has taken?

217. It is no conclusive argument against the practice of allowing him to "nose," that many first-rate dogshave never been so indulged. It is certain that they would not have been worse if they had; and many a dog, that would otherwise have been extremely slack, has been incited to hunt with eagerness from having been so rewarded. There are dogs who, from having been constantly denied all "touseling," will not even give themselves the trouble of searching for any bird which they have seen knocked over, much less think of pointing it. They seem satisfied with this ocular evidence of its death; for, odd to say, these very dogs will often zealously obey the order to hunt for any bird whose fall they have not noticed; but on winding it they will indulge in no more than a passing sniff,—which sniff, unless you are watchful, you may not observe, and so lose your bird. Never fail, therefore, to let your pupil ruffle the feathers a little, while you bestow on him a caress or kind word of approbation. You then incite to perseverance, by, even with dogs, a very abiding motive,—"self-interest;" but mind the important rule, that his "nosing" be onlywhenthe bird is in your possession, notbeforeit is in your possession. If you wish to establish for ever a confirmed perseverance in "seeking dead," you must sacrificehours—I say it seriously—rather than give up any of the first wounded birds. Be persuaded that every half hour spent in an unremitting search foronebird, if ultimately successful, will more benefit the young dog than your killing adozento him, should you bag them the moment you are reloaded. Of course you would not, when you are giving such a lesson in perseverance,fire at another bird, even if it sprang at your feet,—for your doing so, whether you missed or killed, would unsettle the young dog, and make him relinquish his search. Be stimulated to present exertion by the conviction, that if he be notnowwell instructed, you must expect him to lose, season after season, nearly every bird only slightly disabled by a merely tipped wing.

218. I hope you will not say, as would most of our neighbors[37]on the other side of the Channel: "But if, instead of waiting to load, I had gone after the winged bird just as it fell, when first I saw it start off running, the evil you have now spoken of—215—could not have occurred, for there would have been but little risk of losing it." Probably not, but you would almost have ruined your dog; and to secure this one bird, in all likelihood you would subsequently lose a hundred.[38]How could you with justice blame him if, when nextyou killed, he rushed headlong after the bird—instead of dropping patiently to the "down charge"—and so sprung a dozen birds while you were unloaded?

219. Perhaps you will say, "You tell me to fire at a running bird, but when a winged cock-pheasant or red-legged partridge is racing offout of shot, how am I to get it if I proceed in the slow, methodical manner you advise? May it not lead me an unsuccessful dance for an hour, if I do not allow the dog to shoot ahead and seize?" It may—but I hope months will pass before you witness such agility—and this shows that those who do not employ a retriever, and yet are sticklers for a setter's—or pointer's—never being permitted to touch a feather, must on such occasions get into a dilemma; and, unless they are willing to lose the bird, must plead guilty to the inconsistency of being pleased—however loudly they may roar out "Toho," "ware dead,"—when they see their dog, in defiance of all such calls, disable it by a sudden grip. This plan, though frequently followed, cannot be correct. They blame the dog for doing what they really wish! and if he be too tender-mouthed to injure the bird, he keeps them at top speed, while he is alternately picking up the unfortunate creature—acting on his natural impulses—and letting it fall, on being rated. I therefore repeat, that even if you do not wish your dog constantly to retrieve—292—you would still act judiciously in teaching him as a puppy to fetch—86—for then he will give chase to the winged bird, and bring it to youon getting the order, instead ofpermitting it to escape for a freshburst, or carrying it off, as I have seen done. You thus maintain discipline. The dog will do what you wish, in obedience to orders,—not in opposition to orders. The sticklers for dogs never being allowed to nose a feather ought, unless they are quite willing to give up slightly-winged birds, not to shrink from the difficult task of teaching their pupils to stop and retain with their paws.

220. We have only spoken of instances180,210,212, in which all has gone on smoothly, the dog most obediently dropping to shot and permittingyouto take up the bird notwithstanding the poor creature's death-struggles. Suppose, however, and this may probably happen, that he does not restrain himself at the "down charge," but, in spite of all your calls and signals, rushes forward, yet yields to your menaces and halts in mid-career. It is well—your course is clear; you have to lug him back and threaten and lecture him. But should he not check himself until he sniffs the game, his stop then becomes a "point;" and if he is of a timid disposition, or has ever evinced any disposition to blink, you dare not force him to retrace his steps lest he should mistake your motives, and fancy himself encouraged to abandon his point. If you merely make him "down charge," you violate the axiom named in255. In short you are in a difficulty. It is a nice case, in which your own judgment of the dog's character can alone decide you.

221. But, if from inadequate initiatory instruction—for I will maintain that such marked rebellion can arise fromno other cause—in the excitement of the moment he actually rushes in and seizes the bird, he must be punished, I am sorry to say it; but however much we may deplore it,he must; for he has been guilty of great disobedience, and he well knows that he has been disobedient. But the temptation was strong, perhaps too strong, for canine nature—that is to say, for canine nature not early taught obedience. The wounded bird was fluttering within sight and hearing—it was, too, the first he had ever seen,—and this is almost his first glaring act of disobedience; be therefore merciful, though firm. Make him "drop." Get up to him at once. Probably he will relinquish his grip of the bird; if not, make him give it up to you, but do not pull it from him: that would only increase the temptation to tear it. Lay it on the ground. Then drag him back to the spot from which he rushed; there make him lie down. Rate him. Call out "Toho."[39]Crack the whip over him—and, I am pained to add, make use of it—but moderately, not severely. Three or four cuts will be enough, provided he has not torn the bird; if he has, his chastisement must be greater. Let him now have one nibble without punishment, and soon a whole carcase will not suffice for his morning's meal. Do not strike him across the body, but lengthwise.

222. An ill-tempered dog might attempt to bite you. Prevent the possibility of his succeeding, by graspingand twisting his collar with your left hand, still keeping him at the "down." Consider coolly whether you are flagellating a thick-coated dog, or one with a skin not much coarser than your own. Pause between each cut; and, that he may comprehend why he is punished, call out several times, but not loudly, "Toho—bad—toho," and crack your whip. Let your last strokes be milder and milder, until they fall in the gentlest manner—a manner more calculated to awaken reflection than give pain. When the chastisement is over stand close in front of him, the better to awe him, and prevent his thinking of bolting. Put the whip quietly in your pocket, but still remain where you are, occasionally rating and scolding him while you are loading; gradually, however, becoming milder in manner that he may be sensible that though your dissatisfaction at his conduct continues, his punishment is over—241to242. Indeed, if you have any fear of his becoming too timid, you may at length fondle him a little, provided that while you so re-encourage him, you continue to say "Toho—toho," most impressively—then, giving him the wind, go up together to the bird and make him "point dead" close to it. Take it up, and let him fumble the feathers before you loop it on the bag.

223. Never let a dog whom you have been forced to chastise bolt or creep away until you order him. If he is ever allowed to move off athiswish, he will improve upon the idea, and on the next occasion will far too soon anticipateyours. And do not send him off untilhe has given some evidence of having forgiven you, and of his desire to be reconciled, by crawling towards you, for instance, or wagging his tail. On no occasion—under circumstances of ever such great provocation—be so weak or irritable—but I hope you do not need the warning—as to give him a kick or a blow when he is going off. He ought to have stood with reassured confidence alongside of you, for perhaps a minute or so, before you sanctioned his departure; and the severer his punishment the longer should have been the detention. You are always to part tolerable friends, while he feels perfectly convinced that his chastisement is over. If you do not, you may find it rather difficult to catch him when he commits another fault. It will be owing to your own injudiciousness if he ever becomes afraid of approaching you after making a blunder. Should he be so, sit down. He will gradually draw near you; then quietly put your hand on his collar.

224. If a man cannot readily get hold of any dog under his tuition whom he desires to rate or punish, you may be certain that he fails either in temper or judgment; perhaps in both. He may be an excellent man; but he cannot be a good dog-breaker. There are men who get quite enraged at a dog's not coming instantly to "heel," on being called. When at length the poor brute does come within reach, he gets a blow, perhaps a licking—a blow or licking, he has the sense to see he should have longer avoided had he stayed longer away. Thus the punishment increases instead of remedying the evil.

225. Never correct or even rate a dog, in the merebeliefthat he is in error; be firstconvincedof his guilt. If you have good reason to suspect that unseen by you he has wilfully sprung birds, still rather give him an earnest caution than any severer rebuke. It is not easy to repair the mischief occasioned by unjust punishment. When from his sheepish look, or any other cause, you imagine that he has raised game, either through heedlessness or from their being unusually wild, be sure to give him a short lecture, and accompany him to the haunt. A lingering bird may occasionally reward you. If his manner has led you to form an incorrect opinion, your warning can have no other effect than to increase his caution—rarely an undesirable result;—and if you are right the admonition is obviously most judicious.

226. Let me caution you against the too common error of punishing a dog by pulling his ears. It has often occasioned bad canker. Some men are of opinion that it is frequently the cause of premature deafness. When you rate him you may lay hold of an ear and shake it, but not with violence.

227. I would strongly recommend you always to make your young dog "drop" for half-a-minute or so, when he, sees a hare; or when he hears a bird rise.[40]To effect this, stand still yourself. After a few seconds you can either hie him on, or, which is yet better, get close tohim if you expect other birds to spring. You will thus, especially in potatoes or turnips, often obtain shots at birds which would have made off, had he continued to hunt, and early in the season be frequently enabled to bag the tail-bird of a covey. This plan will also tend to make him cautious, and prevent his getting a habit of blundering-up birds, and cunningly pretending not to have noticed their escape. It will also make him less inclined to chase hares and rabbits, or rush at a fallen bird.

228. On approaching a piece of turnips, you may have heard, "Let us couple up all the dogs excepting Old Don:" the veteran's experience having shown him, that the only effect of his thundering through them would be to scare every bird and make it rise out of shot.You, on the contrary, when your pupil is well confirmed in his range, and has some knowledge of his distance from game, ought to wish the other dogs kept to "Heel"—especially when the seed has been broadcast,—that by the word "Care" and the right hand slightly raised you may instil into him the necessary caution and so, by judicious tuition, give him the benefit of your own experience. Most probably you would be obliged to employ the checkcord,[41]which I presume to be always at hand ready for occasional use. Or you might strap your shot-belt round his throat, for it isessential that he traverse such ground slowly, and greatly contract his range—see145. The several cross scents he will encounter should afford him a valuable lesson in detecting the most recent, and in discriminating between the "heel and toe" of a run. Be patient,—give him time to work, and consider what he is about. It is probable that he will frequently overrun the birds on their doubling back, and imagine that they are gone. Should he do so, bring him again on the spot where he appeared to lose the scent. He now rushes up the adjacent drill. "Slower, slower," signals your right arm; "go no faster than I can walk comfortably." On the other hand, the birds may lie like stones. Not until you have remained nearly a minute alongside of him let him urge them to rise; and make him effect this, not by a sudden dash, but by steadily pressing on the scent. Bear in mind, as before warned—143—that the confidence with which he can here creep on to a near find may lead, if he is now mismanaged, to his springing on future occasions, from want of care, many a bird at which he ought to get you a shot.

229. If you can contrive it, let your pupil have some little experience in the field before you give him a real lesson in "Gone"—or "Flown." Instead of being perplexed, he will then comprehend you. Should you, therefore, during the first few days of hunting him, see birds make off in lieu of taking him to the haunt—as many breakers erroneously do,—carefully keep him from the spot. You cannot let him run riot over the reekingscent without expecting him to do the same when next he finds; and if, in compliance with your orders, he points, you are making a fool of him—there is nothing before him; and if he does not fancy you as bewildered as himself, he will imagine that the exhilarating effluvia he rejoices in is the sum total you both seek. This advice, at first sight, may appear to contradict that given in111and209; but look again, and you will find that those paragraphs referred to peculiar cases. Should your young dog be loitering and sniffing at a haunt which he hasseenbirds quit, he cannot well mistake the meaning of your calling out, "Gone, gone."

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