V
“But why dost thou compare thee to a dog,
In that for which all men despise a dog?
I will compare thee better to a dog:
Thou art as fair and comely as a dog,
Thou art as true and honest as a dog,
Thou art as kind and liberal as a dog,
Thou art as wise and valiant as a dog.”
WHILE the foxhound and harrier and their brothers of the chase work in company, and—within the limits allowed by the guiding spirit of the huntsman—under the leadership of one or more of their own kind, in another branch of sport we find the perfection of a dog’s individual action in the field. If we watch the early training of the young pointer or setter we can trace the development of the dog’s powers of mind under the hand of his instructor. If the latter has the intelligence and the patience necessary for his task, and the ambition to make the most of the opening powers that give to his touch the unerring response of a musical instrument of varied strength and different tones, we shall see this under the most favourable circumstances.
In the first place, the natural characteristics of the young pupil, as they have been shown in puppy games and family intercourse, will be made due allowance for. The puppy of strong, decided character will have different treatment meted out to it from that given to one of timid mind, and, it may be, less robust physique, or results will show us clearly what is wanting. A harsh word or unrestrained action on the part of the instructor will in a moment turn a bright-eyed and eager dog into a cowed, and, it may be, sullen creature, who has for the time being, at least, lost all interest in the proceedings that promised so well. He must have perfect confidence in the justice of the man in whose hands he is. This confidence is the foundation on which the affection of later years will be built. Without the one it is impossible to have the other. If owners and, above all, keepers only knew it, the way in which their dogs respond to their treatment is the surest index of their own characters. If they are slovenly in their work, the want of thoroughness will surely be reflected in their dogs, and this in spite of any attempts to cover their own defects by unconsidered sternness to their charges. The man who only cares for his dogs as a necessary part of the accessories of a day’s shooting will never get more than eye service from them. As he knows nothing of the dog’s character, and treats him as if he had no special traits that mark him off as an individual, such a master cannot hope for any response but such as fear of punishment can give him. The dog, if he survives the training given under such circumstances—if, that is to say, he does not fall under the condemnation of being worthless in the field—will only work when directly under his master’s eye, and while he knows that chastisement prompt and severe will fall on any failure. In his work, as work, he will take little or no interest; and it is safe to say that such a dog will never show of what he might have been capable under more discriminating treatment.
The youngest dog that comes under training has the same instinctive knowledge of human character that a child has. Not all, perhaps, would show the nice appreciation of temperament displayed by an older dog that belonged to the father of one of my friends. Shot was a black and white pointer with a long head and ears, and a conformation of head nearer that of a foxhound than of an ordinary dog of his kind. He was a firstrate dog on birds, and conducted himself with the greatest decorum in the field. But one day his high spirits carried him out of his usual self-restraint. He was racing along at such a pace that he dashed into a covey of birds and flushed them. It did not need his master’s angry voice to bring home to him a sense of his misdeeds.
“Conscience makes Cowards of us”
SHOT
As the birds rose, Shot stopped short, his tail went between his legs, and with only a momentary pause he set off wildly to save himself from chastisement. Making straight for a neighbouring bog he waded through it, up to his neck in mud, till he reached a dry spot. Then he sat up and regarded his master serenely, secure in the knowledge that he could not be followed. His owner, a man of quick temper, though much too fond of his dogs to give any of them more than a well merited reminder not to offend again, was not unnaturally angry at the turn affairs had taken. “Oh, you lop-eared cur, if I could only get at you!” were the words that travelled to Shot’s ears, as he sat entrenched in his fastness. He stayed quietly where he was, therefore, till the passing storm had blown over. As soon as his master turned his attention again to the birds, Shot knew he might return safely. He lost no time in leaving his island, and wading back through the mud he took up his duties as if nothing had happened. So well did he work that at the end of the day he received nothing but praise for the excellence of his conduct. The fault had faded from his master’s mind, and when it was recalled only excited admiration of the dog’s intelligence that had saved him from untoward chastisement. A beating, and still more a savage beating, at the end of a good day’s work, would have given Shot a new view of his master’s character that would have gone far to destroy the good fellowship existing between them.
But in a puppy, as in a young child, no fault should be overlooked. The great mistake so many commit in training, is in making the necessary correction of minor failings too severe. They are not always careful, either, to make the punishment follow immediately on the fault, but chastise, with a strength measured by their own impatience, the young creature from whose unformed mind all sense of delinquency has passed away. How can a puppy be expected to understand the reason of a harsh rating, or hard blow, for a lack of due response to such an outlandish sound, to untutored ears, as “Toho,” when all remembrance has passed in the excitement of watching some later action of his master that calls forth his keenest interest as he tries to fathom its meaning? Still less chance has he in these first essays of the business of life if other dogs are sharing his instructor’s attention with him. He is then being treated as a chattel, and yet expected to give the individual response that only an intelligent being can give. If he does not do like the others at the word of command, and the master’s first thought is given to continuing the exercise for those who respond rightly, what chance is there that the young dog will understand the meaning of his correction, after he has followed with fascinated gaze and possibly intelligent co-operation the later parts of the lesson? If the man would only think, he would recognise that he was asking from his pupil an effort of mind that is quite beyond his range. It is from the heart sickness caused by the knowledge of terrible acts of vengeance wreaked on defenceless pupils, by thoughtless and cruel masters, that I venture to speak thus plainly. The suffering that is sometimes crowded into the first twelve months of a puppy’s life is terrible to think of. And how many good dogs are thus ruined for life, and are condemned as worthless before they have even had a chance of showing their powers! If the owners of shooting dogs would only remember that the dogs which, under judicious treatment, will give the best result as workers are those which, from the possession of the very gifts that give them their value, will understand and resent most keenly any acts of oppression and injustice that cloud their young days, they would save their pockets by getting the services of many a good worker, whose life has been ended by a bullet through his brains.
But if the puppy’s training has been carefully and successfully carried out in the privacy that is such an important factor of success, the considerate and individual care meted out to him does not by any means end here. The dog has learned to obey the various words of command, and so far has responded to his training. But his experience up to this point has been free from conflicting interests. He has concentrated all his attention on the lessons with nothing to distract his mind. But when he takes his place in the field the case is very different. Yet how often do we hear a young dog rated, or see him beaten, for a fault that should have been corrected gently. He has, if he has been wisely treated, finished his education under the very conditions that obtain in the field when the shooting season begins. He has mastered every detail of his work, but how few owners make allowance for the excitement that takes possession of a dog when he first has part in a serious day’s shooting! If he is thrown with other dogs, his difficulties are increased tenfold, but supposing that he only accompanies his master for a quiet day among the turnips, and with no companion save a retriever, he knows as well as his owner does that the circumstances of his work are now quite different from all that has gone before. His master is intent on making a good bag, and if the pointer or setter was not capable of understanding the difference between serious business and the previous training foreshadowing it, he would be incapable of giving the intelligent co-operation that is expected of him. He is excited, therefore, and eager, it may well be too eager, to please, and if in the ardour of his own feelings the sportsman has no thought and consideration for his dog, the latter’s early training may very likely be spoilt after all.
It is, alas! well known that keepers and their masters will often give an erring dog a punishment with their gun, one of the most brutal forms of chastisement possible. Restraining their savage anger till the dog is at some thirty yards from them, they pepper the poor creature with shot in the hind quarters as he is hurrying forward. From the point of view of common sense, as well as of humane feeling, this is the most futile form in which the anger of the master can show itself. First and foremost, there is the suffering entailed on the dog, for to my own knowledge some animals have lost their lives from the injuries inflicted on them.
And yet what good and faithful work many dogs will give to careless and even cruel owners! A very handsome, upstanding black and white setter, who belonged to a farmer of morose temper, was one of these. The dog was not properly fed, and in spite of his thick coat he excited the commiseration of some people, a part of whose property adjoined the land rented by the farmer. The members of this family were lovers of sport in all its forms, and they often saw the setter at work, and knew that he was particularly staunch on game. One day Prince was following his master about the farm on agricultural interests bent, when, as they passed some heathland, the dog lighted on a covey of partridges. He instantly became rigid, but knowing well that sport was not at the moment the point of interest in his master’s mind, he looked round to see if he was being observed. The master’s hand was raised, and Prince obediently dropped. Then the farmer hurried home to fetch his gun. At the end of between twenty and thirty minutes he was back, and found Prince still at his post. At a word, the dog was up, and his master secured a brace of birds. Another time when Prince had been lent to the son of the neighbouring landowner, the dog retained his position for full fifteen minutes before the gun came up. It is sad to think that such a dog should have had more than his share of blows and curses, and but little of the affection that would have made his life happy.
But if the same gentle restraint is about the young dog in the field that has hitherto attended his training, the response he will give to his owner’s wishes will be little short of marvellous. For the most striking point about the dog’s work in the field is that he carries it out without any physical gain to himself, beyond his enjoyment of the exercise it gives him and the delight the scent of the game affords. The only reward he looks for is one that appeals to his imagination and affection only. While he ranges the field for the hidden game he must have a clear conception in his mind of the results that will follow his successful point. It will bring to his master the pleasure for which he has come out. But here his own share in the work ceases, and it is another dog that will dash in and carry the trophy to his owner. It is well known that many dogs show such a clear appreciation of the respective duties of the various partners in the sport that they will refuse to do their share if the gun does not account for a satisfactory number of birds. Could anything say more plainly that if their own part of the work is well done they expect equal skill to be shown by their fellow workers?
A setter who showed such nice discrimination belonged to a man who was a firstrate shot. This man had the generosity to lend his dog not infrequently to friends, and it was when the dog was working for an indifferent shot that he showed his disapproval of work to which he was not accustomed. If his temporary master missed two birds running, the setter always turned away and made straight for home. In no case was he ever known to condone such a failure. One miss he would overlook, but two in succession he could not and did not tolerate.
No more cutting reproach can be given to any indifferent sportsman than the silent turning away of a well trained and intelligent dog from the sport in which his master is not taking his due share. And what in many cases is the immediate result of an action on the part of the dog that shows such an amazing appreciation of things as they are? The insult is felt, only to give point to the man’s natural exasperation at his own failure. The dog is not made to feel that his exercise of intelligence is understood, but that to please his master he must go on with his work. He is instead rated, or even beaten, for the desire he has shown to give it up, and what wonder if, feeling the injustice of the punishment that has followed his own good service, the dog turns sulky and refuses to try again. If the man were not so absorbed in his own determination to have sport, good, bad, or indifferent, as to have no thought to give to the dog’s point of view, he would pursue a juster course and one more likely to give him the result he desires.
The field work of the pointer is differentiated from that of his near relation, the foxhound, in every essential detail. True, he has the same excitement that is the hound’s great joy in the field of hunting up to his game. But even here he has to be taught to seek for his birds with head well in air, instead of keeping his sensitive nose on the ground. For this part of his duty, he has to work out the problem before him entirely without help from his fellows. Then as soon as he signals to his master by the customary point that game is at hand, nothing but a passing glimpse of the birds as they rise comes to reward his work. Instead of the run for a kill that brings the successful chase of the hound to a close, the pointer or setter has to remain content with the knowledge that the physical enjoyment of touching the game has fallen to the retriever, and that the trophy itself has been taken possession of by his master.
We have all heard of the long discussion that from the days of Colonel Thornton’s celebrated pointer Dash has been carried on respecting the infusion of foxhound blood into the pointer kennel. With this matter I have no concern, but I am reminded of a very curious instance of hound work that more nearly resembled the pointer style than that of the foxhound. Yet Druid, the hound in question, was one of pure foxhound blood on both sides. He was a son of Rufford Denmark, and many of his brothers and sisters are to be found in the Hound lists of the late Mr. Merthyr Guest, which lists I have had the privilege of studying. The dam of Druid was Woodbine, a daughter of Mr. Garth’s Wildfire, and she strained back to the wonderful hound Ruby (1864), the mother of the Blackmore Vale pack, that was dispersed on Mr. Guest’s resignation of the Mastership, in the year 1900. One who hunted with the Blackmore Vale for many years, and was one of the hardest riders of a hard riding field, says of Druid,[4] he “had a curious way of catching a scent. He would stand on his hind legs with his nose high in the air, and sometimes even jump from the ground in his eagerness to catch it.” The hound was, this writer adds, “a most reliable hound” in his work.
Another incident in the pointer or setter’s duty when he is working with other dogs demands as much intelligent comprehension as his point, and an equal amount of self-control. This is the “back” he is expected to give, immediately one of his companions is at the point. He knows that his fellow is in the enjoyment of the “grateful steam” that is one of the few lawful pleasures he can hope for from the day’s sport. Yet he may not move a step towards the spot where the pleasure lies. He must too give up his own anticipations of a similar joy, and wait while others are having the fun. Now, if we think of this for a moment from the dog’s point of view, we shall see what a high exercise of self-control he must bring to bear on this part of his duty.
This has always seemed to me one of the most surprising results of the effects of training on the higher mental powers of the dog that has ever been achieved. Of course we know that pointers and setters may be taught to retrieve, and a setter may do the work of both pointer and retriever, but here I am only speaking of the special tasks allotted to the former. And with such intelligent co-operation as he is expected to give, has not the dog a right to the considerate and gentle treatment that will alone encourage him to give of his best? I would plead with every sportsman that takes a gun in hand not to cast a slur on his own manhood by unworthy conduct to a faithful worker, to the exercise of whose skill his pleasure owes so much.
From the point of view of the thinker, a nice psychological problem presents itself, as to the powers of the dog’s mind that are brought into play during a day’s shooting. There is, first of all, an intelligent response to the training that has been given him, when he is left to carry out his work by himself. For though a faint whistle may from time to time come to carry some direction from his master, the exigencies of the shooting field demand that he should be left in the main to his own resources. But far above this in intellectual effort is the imagination that must be brought into play to give him the conception, he undoubtedly has, of the different parts that go to make up the whole of the day’s sport. If he did not realise the parts of the work he does not see, as well as those that are the result of his own exertions, it would be impossible for him to show resentment at the sport not being brought to a successful termination. The report rings out when the birds rise, whether the shot is to bring success or failure. In any further steps, the dog has no share, but the mental picture that is imaged on his brain must not be marred, or he will take the very means to mark his sense of the disturbance that a human might do if he were put into the position of the dog.
A very extraordinary instance of intelligent co-operation with the work of the guns is told me by one who has had a life-long experience in the breeding and training of shooting dogs. In the course of a day’s grouse shooting in Caithness, two black pointers were out and working in their usual good style. But one bird could not be found. The keeper was at last joined by the guns in his search, but no efforts could discover the bird the dogs told them was there. When the search was given up in despair, the keeper noticed that only one of his dogs went to his work. The other went back and sitting down regarded her master anxiously. The man saw her take her point and go up to dead. Then she disappeared from view, but instantly reappearing, she drew herself up to her full height with the dead bird in her mouth. Holding it for a moment for her master to see, she then dropped it and sat down beside it. Hurrying up, the keeper found that the bird had crept into a narrow hole in the ground, where the efforts of all the party had been unable to find it.
Leaving thus the more serious aspects of the shooting dog’s life, let us turn to an amusing episode in which a retriever seemed to show a sense of humour. Cruiser, a curly coated dog, was one of those good tempered, easy natured creatures that are always ready to give a helping “paw” in anything that is on hand. The mistress of this dog could, on the occasion in question, well have dispensed with his assistance. Among the many animals she gathered round her in her country home was a troop of young ducklings. The aim of these little things’ lives was to get into a certain pond, from which, as it had deep walled sides, it was very difficult to get them out. Late one Sunday evening this lady discovered that the gate leading into the field where the pond was situated had been left open, and all the ducklings had made haste to take advantage of their opportunity. Usually when such a catastrophe occurred, half the household were summoned to take part in the work of rescue. But on Sunday evening no one was available, and with Cruiser at her side his mistress took up the business single-handed. With the help of the retriever and a long pole she collected the brood in a corner of the pond near the hatches, and then put the pole across behind them, to keep them from getting back into deep water. She then lay down on the bank, and by stretching her arm down could just reach the truants. Taking one of the fluffy heads gently in her hand, she swung the duckling up to the bank beside her. This she repeated again and again, till every limb ached. The ducklings seemed to be multiplied by tens, and at last in despair of ever getting them all out, she sat up to rest and count the number she had rescued. A glance showed her the reason of her unending work. As each duckling came up, Cruiser caught it skilfully and gently in his mouth, and carrying it to the side of the pond dropped it delicately in. When his mistress stopped working, his own amusement came to an end, and he too sat down to wait for better times, which in this case at least did not come to him.