FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[35]The speed with which one of these extremely beautiful, but in every other respect far, far inferior partridges will run, when only slightly wounded, is quite marvellous.[36]The force of the word "Dead"—preceding the command "Find"—that joyous, exciting note of triumph—ought never to be lessened by being employed, as I have heard it, to stimulate a dog to hunt when no bird is down; or, like the shepherd-boy's cry of "Wolf! wolf!" it will have little influence at the moment when it should most animate to unremitting exertions.[37]In favor of such unsportsman-like haste they ingeniously argue that a continued noise after firing makes birds lie, from attracting their attention. They say that a sudden change to quiet—and a great change it must be, for achasseuris always talking—alarms the birds. As an evidence of this, they adduce the well-known fact of its frequently happening that a partridge gets up the moment the guns have left the spot, though no previous noise had induced it to stir.[38]Had you lost the bird from there being but little scent, it is probable you might have found it by renewing your search on your return homewards in the evening. If a runner, it would most likely have rejoined the covey.[39]"Toho," rather than "Drop,"—your object now being to make him stand at, and prevent his mouthing game; for you are satisfied that he would have "down charged" had the bird been missed.[40]Of course, with the proviso that he is not pointing at another bird—187.[41]Lest the cord should cut the turnip-tops, it might be better to employ the elastic band spoken of in56.

[35]The speed with which one of these extremely beautiful, but in every other respect far, far inferior partridges will run, when only slightly wounded, is quite marvellous.

[36]The force of the word "Dead"—preceding the command "Find"—that joyous, exciting note of triumph—ought never to be lessened by being employed, as I have heard it, to stimulate a dog to hunt when no bird is down; or, like the shepherd-boy's cry of "Wolf! wolf!" it will have little influence at the moment when it should most animate to unremitting exertions.

[37]In favor of such unsportsman-like haste they ingeniously argue that a continued noise after firing makes birds lie, from attracting their attention. They say that a sudden change to quiet—and a great change it must be, for achasseuris always talking—alarms the birds. As an evidence of this, they adduce the well-known fact of its frequently happening that a partridge gets up the moment the guns have left the spot, though no previous noise had induced it to stir.

[38]Had you lost the bird from there being but little scent, it is probable you might have found it by renewing your search on your return homewards in the evening. If a runner, it would most likely have rejoined the covey.

[39]"Toho," rather than "Drop,"—your object now being to make him stand at, and prevent his mouthing game; for you are satisfied that he would have "down charged" had the bird been missed.

[40]Of course, with the proviso that he is not pointing at another bird—187.

[41]Lest the cord should cut the turnip-tops, it might be better to employ the elastic band spoken of in56.

230. Probably you may be in a part of the country where you may wish to kill hares to your dog's point. I will, therefore, speak about them, though I confess I cannot do it with much enthusiasm. Ah! my English friend, what far happier autumns we should spend could we but pass them in the Highlands! Then we should think little about those villanous hares. We should directthe wholeundividedfaculties of our dogs, to work out the haunt of the noble grouse.[42]As for rabbits, Ibeg we may have no further acquaintance, if you ever even in imagination, shoot them to your young dog. Should you be betrayed into so vile a practice, you must resign all hope of establishing in him a confirmed systematic range. He will degenerate into a low potterer,—a regular hedge-hunter. In turnips he will always be thinking more of rabbits than birds. It will be soon enough to shoot the little wretches to him when he is a venerable grandfather. The youngster's noticing them—which he would be sure to do if you had ever killed one to him—might frequently lead to your mis-instructing him, by earnestly enforcing "Care" at a moment when you ought to rate him loudly with the command "Ware"—or "No." But to our immediate subject.

231. Defer as long as possible the evil day of shooting a hare over him, that he may not get too fond—65—of such vermin—I beg pardon, I mean game—and whenyou do kill one, so manage that he may not see it put into the bag. On no account let him mouthe it. You want him to love the pursuit of feather more than of fur, that he may never be taken off the faintest scent of birds by coming across the taint of a hare. I therefore entreat you, during his first season, if you will shoot hares, to fire only at those which you are likely to kill outright; for the taint of a wounded hare is so strong that it would probably diminish his zeal, and the sensitiveness of his nose, in searching for a winged bird.

232. The temptation is always great to quit for a strong scent of hare—which any coarse-nosed dog can follow—a feeble one of birds; therefore it is a very satisfactory test of good breaking to see a dog, when he is drawing upon birds, in no way interrupted by a hare having just crossed before him. If you aim at such excellence, and it is frequently attained in the Highlands, it is certain you must not shoot hares over your youngster.

233. I hope that he will not see a hare before you have shot a few birds over him. The first that springs up near him will test the perfection to which he has attained in his initiatory lessons. Lose not a moment. It is most essential to restrain instantaneously the naturally strong impulse of the dog to run after four-footed game. Halloo out "Drop" to the extent of your voice,—raise your hand,—crack your whip,—do all you can to prevent his pursuing. Of course you will not move an inch. Should he commence running, thunder out "No," "no."If, in spite of everything, he bolts after the hare, you have nothing for it but patience. It's no use to give yourself a fit of asthma by following him. You have only half as many legs as he has—a deficiency you would do well to keep secret from him as long as possible. Wait quietly where you are—for an hour if necessary. You have one consolation,—puss, according to her usual custom, has run down wind,—your dog has lost sight of her, and is, I see, with his nose to the ground, giving himself an admirable lesson in reading out a haunt. After a time he will come back looking rather ashamed of himself, conscious that he did wrong in disobeying, and vexed with himself from having more than a suspicion forced upon him, that he cannot run so fast as the hare. When he has nearly reached you, make him "drop." Scold him severely, saying, "Ware chase"—a command that applies to the chase of birds as well as of hares.—Pull him to the place where he was when first he got a view of the hare,—make him lie down—rate him well,—call out "No," or "Hare," or "Ware chase," or any word you choose, provided you uniformly employ the same. Smack the whip and punish him with it, but not so severely as you did when we assumed that he tore the bird—end of221. You then flogged him for two offences: first, because he rushed in and seized the bird; secondly, because he tore it andtastedblood. If you had not then punished him severely, you could never have expected him to be tender-mouthed. On the next occasion he might have swallowed the bird, feathers and all.

234. Should he persist in running after hares, you must employ the checkcord. If you see the hare, at which he is pointing, in its form, drive a peg firmly into the ground, and attach the cord to it, giving him a few slack yards, so that after starting off he may be arrested with a tremendous jerk. Fasten the line to the part of the spike close to the ground, or he may pull it out.

235. I have known a dog to be arrested in a headlong chase by a shot fired at him—an act which you will think yet more reprehensible than the previous mismanagement for which his owner apparently knew no other remedy than this hazardous severity.

236. When you are teaching your dog to refrain from chasing hares, take him, if you can, where they are plentiful. If they are scarce, and you are in the neighborhood of a rabbit-warren, visit it occasionally of an evening. He will there get so accustomed to see the little animals running about unpursued by either of you, that his natural anxiety to chase fur, whether it grow on the back of hare or rabbit, will be gradually diminished.

237. In Scotland there are tracts of heather where one may hunt for weeks together and not find a hare; indeed, it is commonly observed, that hares are always scarce on those hills where grouse most abound. In other parts they are extremely numerous. Some sports men in the Highlands avail themselves of this contrasted ground in order to break a young dog from "chasing." They hunt him, as long as he continues fresh, where there are no hares; and when he becomes tired, theytake him to the Lowlands, where they are plentiful. By then killing a good many over him, and severely punishing him whenever he attempts to follow, a cure is often effected in two or three days. In the yet higher ranges, the mountain-hares, from possessing a peculiarly strong scent, and not running to a distance, are a severe trial to the steadiest dog.

238. Killing a sitting hare to your dog's point will wonderfully steady him from chasing; but do not fire until he has remained stanch for a considerable time. This will show him that puss is far more likely to be bagged byyourfiring than byhispursuing.

239. For the same object,—I mean to make your young dog stanch,—I would recommend your killing a few birds on the ground to his point were it not that you rarely have the opportunity.

240. When you have made your dog perfectly steady from chasing you may—supposing you have no retriever at hand,—naturally enough, inquire how you are to teach him to follow any hare you may be so unlucky as merely to wound. I acknowledge that the task is difficult. I would say, at once resolve to give up every wounded hare during his first season.[43]The following year, provided you find that he remains quite steady, on your wounding an unfortunate wretch, encourage yourdog to pursue it by running yourself after it. When he gets hold of it, check him if he mauls it, and take it from him as quickly as possible. As I cannot suppose that you are anxious to slaughter every hare you see, let the next two or three go off without a shot. This forbearance will re-steady him, and after a while his own sagacity and nose—297—will show him that the established usage was departed from solely because puss was severely struck.

241. As you wish to flog your dog as little as possible, never go out without your whip, paradoxical as this may appear. The dog's salutary awe of the implement which he sees in your possession, like a horse's consciousness of your heel being armed with a spur, will tend to keep him in order. If your dog is a keen ranger, you may much spare the whip by making him crouch at your feet for several minutes after he has committed a fault. The detention will be felt by him, when he is all anxiety to be off hunting, as a severe punishment. If he is a mettlesome, high-couraged animal, he will regard as a yet severer punishment his being compelled to follow at your heels for half-an-hour, while the other dogs are allowed the enjoyment of hunting.

242. Excess of punishment has made many a dog of good promise a confirmed blinker; and of far more has it quenched that keen ardor for the sport, without which no dog can be first-rate. For this reason, if not from more humane motives, make it a rule to give but few cuts; let them, however, be tolerably severe. Yourpupil's recollection of them, when he hears the crack of the whip, will prevent the necessity of their frequent repetition.

243. I knew of a young fellow's purchasing a pointer of an excellent breed from a gamekeeper for afew shillingsmerely, as the animal had become so timid from over-chastisement, that she not only blinked her game, but seldom quitted the man's heels. The lad had the good sense to treat the bitch, at all times, with the greatest kindness: and in order to induce her to hunt, he used to break off the feet of every bird he killed, and give them to her to eat along with the sinews. The plan succeeded so well that she eventually became an unusually keen and fast ranger. This would be a hazardous step to take with a dog wanted to retrieve. There are few, if any dogs who may not be tempted by hunger to eat game. A gentleman told me, that, to his great astonishment, he one day saw an old tender-mouthed retriever, that he had possessed for years, deliberately swallow a partridge. Before he could get up to the dog even the tail-feathers had disappeared. On inquiry it turned out that, through some neglect, the animal had not been fed.

244. Some argue that blinking arises from a defective nose, not from punishment; but surely it is the injudicious chastisement following the blunders caused by a bad nose that makes a dog, through fear, go to "heel" when he winds birds. A bad nose may lead to a dog's running up birds from not noticing them, but itcannotnaturallyinduce him to run away from them. Possibly he may be worthless from a deficiency in his olfactory powers; but it is hard to conceive how these powers can be improved by a dread of doing mischief when he finds himself near game. Some dogs that have been unduly chastised do not even betray themselves by running to "heel," but cunningly slink away from their birds without giving you the slightest intimation of their vicinity. I have seen such instances. When a young dog, who has betrayed symptoms of blinking, draws upon birds,headhim, if you can, before you give him the order to "toho:" he will then have such a large circuit to make, that he will feel the less tempted to run to your heels.

245. Obedience and intelligence are, as I have already remarked, best secured by judicious ratings and encouragements—scoldings for bad conduct,—praise, caresses, and rewards for good. Never forget, therefore, to have some delicacy in your pocket to give the youngster whenever he may deserve it. All dogs, however, even the most fearful, ought to be made able to bear a little punishment. If,unfortunately, your dog is constitutionally timid—I cannot help sayingunfortunately, though so many of the sort have fine noses—the whip must be employed with the greatest gentleness, the lash being rather laid on the back than used, until such forbearance, and many caresses before his dismissal, have gradually banished the animal's alarm, and ultimately enabled you to give him a very slight beating, on hismisconducting himself, without any danger of making him blink. By such means, odd as it may sound, youcreatecourage, and with it give him self-confidence and range.

246. A judiciously-educated dog will know as well as you do whether or not he has earned a chastisement, and many a one is of so noble a nature that he will not wish to avoid it if he is conscious that he deserves it. He will become as anxious for good sport as you are, and feel that he ought to be punished, if from his own misconduct he mars it. Indeed, he will not have much opinion of your sagacity if you do not then give him a sound rating, or let him have a taste of the lash, though it matters not how slight. Clearly this feeling, which it will be right to foster, must have arisen from his belief that you are always conscious of his actions—262—therefore never check him for coming towards you on his committing any unseen error. Moreover, when he has been but a little shot to, you will find that if you abstain from firing at a bird which through his fault he has improperly flushed, although in its flight it affords you an excellent shot, you will greatly vex him; and this will tend to make him-more careful for the future.

247. When, after a few weeks, you perceive that the youngster has confidence in himself, and is likely to hunt independently, not deferentially following the footsteps of an older companion, take out a well-broken dog with him, that you may have the opportunity of teaching him to "back." Be careful to choose one not givento make false points; for if he commits such mistakes, your pupil will soon utterly disregard his pointing. Select also one who draws upon his birds in a fine, determined attitude; not one to whose manner evenyoumust be habituated to feel certain he is on game. Be watchful to prevent your dog ever hunting in the wake of the other, which, in the humility of canine youth, he probably will, unless you are on the alert to wave him in a different direction, the moment you observe him inclined to seek the company of his more experienced associate. By selecting a slow old dog you will probably diminish the wish of the young one to follow him; for it is likely that the youngster's eagerness will make him push on faster, and so take the lead.

248. The example for afewdays—but only for a few days—of a good stanch dog who is not a hedge-hunter,—has no bad habits, and does not require being called to—will be advantageous to your inexperienced animal.

249. On the old dog's pointing, catch the eye of the young one. If you cannot readily do so, and are not afraid of too much alarming the birds, call to the old fellow by name, and desire him to "toho." The order will make the young one look round, and awaken him to a suspicion of what is going forward. Hold up your right arm—stand still for a minute—and then, carrying your gun as if you were prepared momentarily to fire, retreat, or move sideways in crab-like fashion towards the old dog, continuing your signal to the other toremain steady, and turning your face to him, so that he may be restrained by the feeling that your eye is constantly fixed upon him. He will soon remark the attitude of the old dog, and almost intuitively guess its meaning. Should the old one draw upon his game, still the other dog must remain stationary. If he advance but an inch, rate him. Should he rush up—which is hardly to be expected—at him at once;—having made him drop, catch hold of him, and drag him to the place at which he should have backed—there—if you judge such strong measures necessary—peg him down until after you have had your shot and are reloaded. If by heading the birds you can drive them towards the young dog, do so; and aim at the one most likely to fall near him. Endeavor to make him comprehend that any sign or word to urge on or retard the leading dog in no way applies to him. This he will soon understand, if he has been properly instructed with an associate in the initiatory lesson described in45. After you have picked up the bird let him sniff at it.

250. It is most important that the dog which first winds birds should be allowed to "road" them to a spring without being flurried, or in any way interfered with by another dog. Few things are more trying to your temper as a sportsman, than to see a self-sufficient cub, especially when birds are wild, creep up to the old dog whom he observes pointing at a distance, or cautiously drawing upon a covey. The young whipper-snapper pays no attention to your most energetic signals: youare afraid to speak lest you should alarm the birds, and before you can catch hold of the presumptuous jackanapes, he not only steals close to the good old dog, but actually ventures to head him; nay, possibly dares to crawl on yet nearer to the birds in the hope of enjoying a more intoxicating sniff.

251. All dogs but the "finder" should stand wholly by sight,—just the reverse of pointing. Your dog's nose ought to have nothing to do with backing. If you permit it, he will get the abominable habit of creeping up to his companions in the manner just described—250—when he observes them to be winding birds; and though he may not presume to take the lead, nay, even keep at so respectful a distance as in no way to annoy the "finder," yet a longing to inhale the "grateful steam"—as that good poet and capital sportsman, Somerville, terms it—will make him constantly watch the other dogs, instead of bestowing his undivided attention and faculties upon finding game for himself. It is quite enough if he backs whenever you order him, or he accidentally catches sight of another dog either "pointing" or "roading;" and the less he is looking after his companions, the more zealously will he attend to his own duties.

252. If you have any fears that the old dog when he is on birds will not act steadily, should you have occasion to chide the young one, be careful to give the old dog a word expressive of your approval, before you commence to rate the other.

253. When your youngster is hereafter hunted incompany, should he make a point, and any intrusive companion, instead of properly backing him, be impertinently pressing on, the youngster should not be induced—however great may be the trial upon his patience and forbearance—to draw one foot nearer to the game than his own knowledge of distance tells him is correct; not even if his friend, or rather, jealous rival, boldly assumes the front rank. Your pupil will have a right to look to you for protection, and to expect that the rash intruder, however young, beat the leastwell rated.

254. It is a matter of little moment whether the "backer" attends to the "down charge," or continues to back as long as the other dog remains at his point. It appears, however, best that he should "drop," unless he is so near that he winds the game, when he would be rather pointing than backing—and should, consequently, behave as explained in187;—for the fewer exceptions there are to general rules the more readily are the rules observed.

255. Should both dogs make separate points at the same moment, it is clear that neither can back the other. They must act independently—each for himself. Moreover, your firing over one should not induce the other to "down charge," or in any way divert his attention from his own birds. He ought to remain as immovable as a statue. Some dogs, whose high courage has not been damped by over-correction, will do this from their own sagacity; but to enable you toteachthem to behave thus steadily, game should be plentiful. When you arelucky enough to observe both dogs pointing at the same time, let your fellow-sportsman—or your attendant—flush and fire at the birds found by the older dog, while you remain stationary near the young one, quietly but earnestly cautioning him to continue firm. When your companion has reloaded and picked up his game—and made the other dog "back,"—let him join you and knock over the bird at which your pupil is pointing. It will not be long before he—your young dog—understands what is required of him, if he has been practised—as recommended in187—not to "down charge" when pointing unsprung birds. In short, it may be received as an axiom, thatnothing ought to make a dog voluntarily relinquish a point so long as he winds birds; and nothing but the wish to continue his point should make him neglect the "down charge" the instant he hears the near report of a gun.

FOOTNOTES:[42]A superior dog on grouse more easily becomes good on partridge than a superior partridge-dog becomes good on grouse. Grouse run so much, both when they are pairing, and after the first flight of the young pack, that a dog broken on them has necessarily great practice in "roading,"—"roading," too, with the nose carried high to avoid strong heather—a valuable instructor,—whereas the dog broken on partridge often becomes impatient, and breaks away when he first finds grouse. The former dog, moreover, will learn not to "break fence," and the necessity of moderating his pace when hunting stubbles and turnips, sooner than the latter will acquire the extensive fast beat so desirable on heather, where he can work for hours uninterrupted by hedge, ditch, or furrow; making casts to the right and left a quarter of a mile in length. First impressions are as strong in puppyhood as in childhood; therefore the advantage of having such ground to commence on must be obvious. There are, however, favored spots in Perthshire, &c., where game so abounds that close rangers are as necessary as when hunting in England. Alas! even the grouse-dog will take far too quickly to hedge hunting; and pottering when on the stubbles. It is, of course, presumed that he is broken from "chasing hare"—a task his trainer must have found difficult—though none are ever shot to him—from the few that,comparativelyspeaking, his pupil could have seen. Independently, however, of want of pace and practice in roading, it never would be fair to take a dog direct from the Lowlands to contend on the Highlands with one habituated to the latter,—andvice versâ, for the stranger would always be placed to great disadvantage. Afaintscent of game which the other would instantly recognise, he would not acknowledge from being wholly unaccustomed to it. Sometimes, however, a grouse dog of a ticklish temper will not bear being constantly called to on "breaking fence." A fine, free-ranging pointer, belonging to one of the brothers Hy, when brought to an enclosed country, became quite subdued and dispirited. He could not stand the rating he received for bounding over the hedges, and he evidently derived no enjoyment from the sport, though there were plenty of birds. On returning to the Highlands, he quite recovered his animation and perseverance. He added another to the many evidences that dogs are most attached to, andat homeon, the kind of country they first hunted.This note is applicable to the pointer, used to the pinnated grouse on the Prairies, when brought into close shooting on quail, &c. H.W.H.[43]This appears extremely cruel; remember, however, that I entreated you to abstain entirely from shooting hares; but if you would not make this sacrifice, at least "only to fire at those which you were likely to kill outright"—231.

[42]A superior dog on grouse more easily becomes good on partridge than a superior partridge-dog becomes good on grouse. Grouse run so much, both when they are pairing, and after the first flight of the young pack, that a dog broken on them has necessarily great practice in "roading,"—"roading," too, with the nose carried high to avoid strong heather—a valuable instructor,—whereas the dog broken on partridge often becomes impatient, and breaks away when he first finds grouse. The former dog, moreover, will learn not to "break fence," and the necessity of moderating his pace when hunting stubbles and turnips, sooner than the latter will acquire the extensive fast beat so desirable on heather, where he can work for hours uninterrupted by hedge, ditch, or furrow; making casts to the right and left a quarter of a mile in length. First impressions are as strong in puppyhood as in childhood; therefore the advantage of having such ground to commence on must be obvious. There are, however, favored spots in Perthshire, &c., where game so abounds that close rangers are as necessary as when hunting in England. Alas! even the grouse-dog will take far too quickly to hedge hunting; and pottering when on the stubbles. It is, of course, presumed that he is broken from "chasing hare"—a task his trainer must have found difficult—though none are ever shot to him—from the few that,comparativelyspeaking, his pupil could have seen. Independently, however, of want of pace and practice in roading, it never would be fair to take a dog direct from the Lowlands to contend on the Highlands with one habituated to the latter,—andvice versâ, for the stranger would always be placed to great disadvantage. Afaintscent of game which the other would instantly recognise, he would not acknowledge from being wholly unaccustomed to it. Sometimes, however, a grouse dog of a ticklish temper will not bear being constantly called to on "breaking fence." A fine, free-ranging pointer, belonging to one of the brothers Hy, when brought to an enclosed country, became quite subdued and dispirited. He could not stand the rating he received for bounding over the hedges, and he evidently derived no enjoyment from the sport, though there were plenty of birds. On returning to the Highlands, he quite recovered his animation and perseverance. He added another to the many evidences that dogs are most attached to, andat homeon, the kind of country they first hunted.This note is applicable to the pointer, used to the pinnated grouse on the Prairies, when brought into close shooting on quail, &c. H.W.H.

This note is applicable to the pointer, used to the pinnated grouse on the Prairies, when brought into close shooting on quail, &c. H.W.H.

[43]This appears extremely cruel; remember, however, that I entreated you to abstain entirely from shooting hares; but if you would not make this sacrifice, at least "only to fire at those which you were likely to kill outright"—231.

256. When your dog has been properly taught the "back," fail not to recommence hunting him alone, if it is your object to establish a perfect range.

257. Professional dog-breakers, I have remarked, almost invariably hunt too many dogs together. This arises, I suppose, from the number which they have to train; but the consequence is, that the younger dogs are spectators rather than actors, and, instead of ranging independently in search of game, are watching the manœuvres of their older associates.

258. A glimmering of knowledge may be picked up in this way; but no one will argue that it is likely to create great excellence. Doubtless the young ones will be good backers; and to the inexperienced a troop of perhaps a dozen dogs, all in chiselled form, stanchly backing an old leader, is a most imposing sight—but if the observer were to accompany the whole party for a few hours, he would remark, I will bet any money, that the same veterans would over and over again find the birds, and that the"perfectly"broken young ones in the rear would do nothing but "back" and "down charge." What can they know of judicious quartering? Of obeying the signals of the hand? Of gradually drawing upon the faintest token of a scent—only perceptible to a nose carried high in the air—until they arrive at a confident point? Of perseveringly working out the foil of a slightly-winged bird, on a hot still day, to a sure "find?" Nothing, or next to nothing,—nearly all is to be taught; and yet the breaker will show off those raw recruits as perfectly drilled soldiers. Would they not have had a much better chance of really being so, if he had given a small portion of his time each day to each?He well knows they would; but the theatrical display would not be half so magnificent. If he had truly wished to give his pupils a good systematic range, without a doubt he would have devoted one hour in the field exclusively to each dog, rather than many hours to several at once—and not have associated any together in the field until he had gained full command over each separately. And this he would have done—because it would have tended to his interest,—had he supposed that his dog's qualifications would be investigated by judges—by those who would insist on seeing a dog hunted singly—in order to observe his method of ranging,—or with but one companion, before they thought of definitively purchasing.

259. At the beginning of a partridge season, I unexpectedly wanted to purchase a dog. An old gamekeeper—one on whose judgment I could rely, and who, I knew, would not willingly deceive me,—saw a setter in the field that he thought would please, and accordingly sent it to my kennel. I greatly liked the looks of the animal. He quartered his ground well—was obedient to the hand—carried a high and apparently tender nose—pointed, backed, and down-charged steadily. Unquestionably he had been well broken. I thought myself in great luck, and should not have hesitated to complete the purchase, but that fortunately I had an opportunity of shooting a bird over him, when to my horror he rushed at it with the speed of a greyhound. As, in spite of all my remonstrances, shouted in the most determinedmanner, he repeated this manœuvre whenever a bird fell, I returned him. I afterwards heard he had just been shot over by a party on the moors, who, no doubt, had spoilt him by their ignoble, pot-hunting propensities.

260. Had I chosen to sacrifice my shooting in order to reclaim him—which I must have done, had I too hastily concluded the purchase,—I ought to have sent home the other dogs, and proceeded, but with greater severity, much in the manner described in220and222. I ought not, however, to have gone after him when first he bolted; I ought merely to have endeavored to check him with my voice, for it would have been most important to set him a good example by remaining immovable myself, and he might have misconstrued any hasty advance on my part into rivalship for possession of the bird; in short, into a repetition of one of the many scrambles to which he had recently been accustomed, and in which I feel sure he must invariably have come off victorious. I ought, when loaded, to have walked calmly up to him, and, without taking the slightest notice of the disfigured bird, have dragged him back, while loudly rating him, to the spot where he should have "down charged." After a good flagellation—a protracted lecture—and a long delay,—the longer the better,—I ought to have made him cautiously approach the bird; and by a little scolding, and by showing him the wounds he had inflicted, have striven to make him sensible and ashamed of his enormities. Probably, too, had the birds lain well, the momenthe pointed I should have employed the checkcord[44]with a spike, giving him a liberal allowance of slack line—234. Had I thus treated him throughout the day, I have little doubt but that he would have become a reformed character; though an occasional outbreak might not unreasonably have been expected. See205 to 208.

261. To create a feeling of self-dependence, obviously there is no better plan than for a considerable time to take out the dog by himself, and thus force him to trust for sport to his own unaided powers; and when he is at length hunted in company, never to omit paying him the compliment of attending to every indication he evinces of being upon birds, even occasionally to the unfair neglect of confirmed points made by the other dogs.

262. I conceive those dogs must be considered thebestwhich procure a persevering sportsman most shots in a season and lose him fewest winged birds.[45]If you are anxious for your pupil to attain this superlative excellence,—I will repeat it, at the risk of being accusedof tautology,—you must be at all times consistently strict but never severe. Make him as much as you can, your constant companion; you will thereby much develope his intelligence, and so render him a more efficient assistant in the field, for he will understand your manner better and better, and greatly increase in affection as well as observation. Many men would like so faithful an attendant.Teachobedience at home—toobtainit in the field. Consider the instantaneous "drop," the moment he gets the signal, as all-important,—as the very key-stone of the arch that conducts to the glorious triumphs of due subordination. Notice every fault, and check it by rating, but never punish with the whip unless you judge it absolutely necessary. On the other hand, following Astley's plan—10—reward, or at least praise, every instance of good behavior, and you will be surprised how quickly your young dog will comprehend your wishes, and how anxious he will be to comply with them. Remember that evil practices, unchecked until they become confirmed habits, or any errors in training committed at the commencement of his education, cannot be repaired afterwards without tenfold—nay, twentyfold—trouble. Never let him hunt from under your eye. Unceasingly endeavor to keep alive in him as long as possible his belief that you are intuitively aware as fully when he is out of sight as within sight of every fault he commits, whether it arise from wilfulness or mere heedlessness. This is a very important admonition. Remember, however, that thebest dogs will occasionally make mistakes when they are running down wind—especially if it blows hard,—and that there are days when there is scarcely any scent.—Note to128.

263. Attend most carefully to the injunction not to let your dog hunt out of sight. It is essential that you do so.

264. Notwithstanding Beckford's capital story of the hounds making a dinner of the old ram which his lordship had left in their kennel to intimidate them, if your dog be unhappily too fond of mutton or lamb of his own killing, perhaps no better cure can beattempted, provided you superintend the operation, than that of muzzling him, and letting a strong ram give him a butting at the time that you are administering the lash, and hallooing out "Ware" or "Sheep." But, unfortunately, this too often fails.

265. If you do not succeed, you must hang or drown him,—the latter is probably the less painful death, but a charge of shot well lodged behind the ear in the direction of the brain would be yet better. Therefore you will not mind giving him another chance for his life, though confessedly the measure proposed is most barbarous. Procure an ash-pole about five feet long. Tie one extremity of the pole to a strong ram, by the part of the horns near the forehead. To the opposite extremity of the pole attach a strong spiked collar, and strap it round the dog's throat, to the audible tune of "Ware" or "Sheep." To prevent the possibility of the cord slipping,through each end of the pole burn a hole. The continued efforts of the ram for some hours either to free himself from his strange companion, or to attack him, will possibly so worry and punish the dog as to give him a distaste ever afterwards for anything of a woolly nature. The pole will so effectually separate these unwilling—but still too intimate—associates, that you need not muzzle the dog.

266. There is yet another remedy, which I will name, as it sounds reasonable, though I cannot speak of its merits from personal observation, never having seen it tried.

267. Wrap a narrow strip of sheep-skin, that has much wool on it, round the dog's lower jaw, the wool outwards, and fasten it so that he cannot get rid of it. Put this on him for a few hours daily and there is a chance that he will become as thoroughly disgusted as even you could wish, with every animal of the race whose coat furnished such odious mouthfuls; but prevention being better than cure, pay great attention to your dog's morals during the lambing season. Dogs not led away by evil companionship rarely commence their depredations upon sober full-grown sheep. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred,[46]they have previously yielded to the great temptation of running down somefrisking lamb, whose animated gambols seemed to court pursuit.

268. If ever you have fears that you may be unable to prevent a dog's breaking away to worry sheep, hunt him in a muzzle of a size that will not interfere with his breathing, and yet effectually prevent the wide extension of his jaws.

269. The killing of fowls is more easily prevented. The temptation, though equally frequent, is not so great—he will only have tasted blood, not revelled in it. Take a dead fowl—one of his recent victims, if you can procure it—and endeavor, by pointing to it, while you are scolding him, to make him aware of the cause of your displeasure. Then secure him to a post, and thrash him about the head with the bird, occasionally favoring his hide with sundry applications of a whip, and his ears with frequent repetitions of the scaring admonition, "Ware fowl," "Fowl—fowl—fowl." Whenever you afterwards catch him watching poultry, be sure to rate him.

FOOTNOTES:[44]I am glad to say I have never had occasion to adopt so severe a remedy as the following; but I have heard of an otherwise incorrigible taste for blood being cured by a partridge pierced transversely with two knitting-pins beingadroitlysubstituted for the fallen bird which the dog had been restrained by a checkcord from bolting. The pins were cut to a length somewhat less than the diameter of its body, and were fixed at right angles to one another. Several slight wires would, I think, have answered better.[45]And if hares are shot to him, fewest wounded hares.[46]In the remaining odd case—one out of a hundred—the propensity may be traced to the animal's belonging to a vicious stock—in short, to hereditary instinct.

[44]I am glad to say I have never had occasion to adopt so severe a remedy as the following; but I have heard of an otherwise incorrigible taste for blood being cured by a partridge pierced transversely with two knitting-pins beingadroitlysubstituted for the fallen bird which the dog had been restrained by a checkcord from bolting. The pins were cut to a length somewhat less than the diameter of its body, and were fixed at right angles to one another. Several slight wires would, I think, have answered better.

[45]And if hares are shot to him, fewest wounded hares.

[46]In the remaining odd case—one out of a hundred—the propensity may be traced to the animal's belonging to a vicious stock—in short, to hereditary instinct.

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, thatbothhave turned their heads in obedience to the whistle, andbothon your signal changed the direction of their beat, but still thetwo 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 ungenerousadvantage—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—bywhistlinginstead 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 bya 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,onewhistle 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.

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 handbehindyou 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 ittoback 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, whichI 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.

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 in255; 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.

284. In paragraph147I observed, that when you are obliged, as occasionally must be the case, to enter a field to windward with your pupil, you ought to godown 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. of119,—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 betaught—when hunting in the ordinary manner with the gun in the rear—

Certainly it could be done. There have been many instances of old dogsspontaneouslygalloping 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 wouldbut 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 in212and296. 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 therebyhead 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 manœuvre places him to leeward or to windward of them.

290. If you could succeed in teaching but one ofyour 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.

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

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

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

294. As it will be your endeavor, during your pupil'sfirst season, to make him thoroughly stanch and steady, I cannot advise you, as a general rule—liable, of course, to many exceptions—one of which is named in219—to let him retrieve—by retrieve I always mean fetch—until the following year. There is another advantage in the delay. His sagacity will have shown him that the design of every shot is to bag the game—when, therefore, he has once been permitted to pick up a bird, he will be desirous of carrying it immediately to you, and will resist the temptation to loiter with it, mouthing and spoiling it; and however keenly he may have heretofore "sought dead," he will henceforth search with redoubled zeal, from the delight he will experience in being permitted to carry his game. Moreover, the season's shooting, without lifting, will have so thoroughly confirmed him in the "down charge," that the increased[47]inclination to bolt off in search of a falling bird will be successfully resisted. If he has been taught while young to "fetch"—92,94, &c.,—he will be so anxious to take the birds to you, that instead of there being any difficulty in teaching him this accomplishment, you will often, during his first season, have to restrain him from lifting when he is "pointing dead." The least encouragement will make him gladly pick up the birds, and give them, as he ought, to no one but yourself.

295. You need hardly be cautioned not to let morethan one dog retrieve the same bird. With more dogs than one the bird would, almost to a certainty, be torn; and if a dog once becomes sensible of the enjoyment he would derive in pulling out the feathers of a bird, you will find it difficult to make him deliver it up before he has in some way disfigured it. If you shoot with several dogs that retrieve, be careful always to let the dog who finds the game be the one to bring it. It is but fair that he should be so rewarded, and thus all will be stimulated to hunt with increased diligence.

296. If the dog that found the covey be not able to wind the bird you have shot, make one of the other dogs take a large circuit. The latter may thus, without interfering with the first dog, come upon the bird, should it have run far. Send him in the direction the covey has taken—the chances are great that the bird is travelling towards the same point. By pursuing this plan, obviously there will be much less chance of your losing a bird than if you allow the dogs to keep close together while searching.—See also98.

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

As a proof of this I may mention that,

298. In North America I once saw, lying on the ground, three snipe, which a pointer, that retrieved, had regularly set one after the other, having found a couple on his way to retrieve the first, and which he afterwards brought in succession to his master, who had all the time governed the dog entirely by signs, never having been obliged to use his voice beyond saying, in a low tone, "Dead," or "Find." I remember, also, hearing of a retrieving setter that on one occasion pointed a fresh bird, still retaining in her mouth the winged partridge which she was carrying,—and of a pointer who did the same when he was bringing a hare; there must, too, be few sportsmen who will not admit that they have found it more difficult to make a dog give up the pursuit of a wounded hare than of one perfectly uninjured. I know of a sportsman's saying he felt certain that the hare his retriever wascoursingover the moors must have been struck, although the only person who had fired stoutly maintained that the shot was a regular miss.[48]The owner of the dog, however, averred that this was impossible, as he never could get the discerning animal to followany kind of unwounded game; and, on the other hand, that no rating would make him quit the pursuit ofinjuredrunning feather or fur. The retriever's speedy return with puss, conveniently balanced between his jaws, bore satisfactory testimony to the accuracy of both his own and his master's judgment.

299. Some good sportsmen maintain that a retrieving setter—or pointer—on finding a dead bird ought to point it until desired to lift it. This training they hold to be advisable, on the ground that it conduces to the dog's steadiness by diminishing his wish to run forward on seeing a bird fall; but the plan has necessarily this evil consequence, that should the setter, when searching for the dead bird, come across and point,as he ought, any fresh game, on your telling him to fetch it—as you naturally will—he must spring it if he attempt to obey you. Surely this would tend more to unsteady him than the habit of lifting his dead birds as soon as found? Your dog and you ought always to work in the greatest harmony—in the mutual confidence of your, at all times, thoroughly understanding each other—and you should carefully avoid the possibility of ever perplexing him by giving him any order it is out of his power to obey, however much he may exert himself. Moreover, if you teach your retrieving setter to "point dead," you at once relinquish—surely unnecessarily?—all hope of ever witnessing such a fine display of sagacity and steadiness as has just been related in the first part of298.

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

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