As the first requisites in a foxhound are pluck and confidence, I would, in selecting a couple of pups from the usual cartload, prefer to take from those who came and faced me boldly, as if inquiring my business, rather than to seek for “show” points among those who require to be dragged from the back of the cart for inspection. Many people are debarred from walking foxhound pups from the tales they have heard about their destructiveness, but these yarns are grossly exaggerated, for the youngsters are no worse than ordinary puppies in their desire to try their new teeth on sponges, brushes, boots or anything else they can procure. If they are taught from the first that such things are riot, and are given in their idle moments a bone on which to expend their energy, they will peacefully occupy themselves with it for hours, and after they have eaten it or as much of it as is possible to be broken off, they will solemnly proceed to inter it for resurrection on some future occasion.
A young dog who has had his necessary exercise, will prefer to sleep than to get into mischief; but if kept idle, he will naturally seek some means of working off his pent-up energy. It is as cruel to punish a young animal for gnawing and biting inanimate objects, as it is to strike a teething infant who is similarly prone to use his teeth on anything he can get hold of. We generally supply such a child with a bone ring or something equally safe to bite; and if we do not give a puppy a bone, he will quickly find something for himself. I have a sheep-dog pup who, having gnawed and buried a boot in the paddock, was brought to me for correction. I gave him a “good talking to” and ordered him to lie down near me under the table, where I believed he would be out of mischief. I went on with my work and thought he was asleep, but when I bent down and looked at him, I found him busy at a large hole he was biting in our carpet! It was all my fault—he ought to have had a bone.
We now come to the important question of corporal punishment, which I have deferred, as I hate it, but I know that it is a necessary evil. Solomon’s warning about sparing the rod is more applicable, I think, to foxhounds than to children, for the spoilt hound has before him a fearful day of reckoning which a child may escape. Therefore our supposed kindness in ignoring sins of omission or commission is, in the case of a young hound, a cruel wrong which will assuredly cause him a great deal of suffering that timely correction on our part may avert. In the first place we ought to insist on implicit obedience, not by coaxing, but by the whip, for if a hound wilfully disobeys the person whom he loves as his mother, how much less will he be inclined to obey the orders of a stranger who is his whipper-in? When it is necessary to punish a glaring offence concerning which the lady walker, who is acting the part of mentor, has given an unheeded warning, the offender should be well whipped by someone told off to perform this operation, and when they fly to her for sympathy, she should remain silent as one who knows they have been justly punished. If she has to undertake these salutary thrashings herself, she should call the hounds to her in a tone of voice which she knows they can hear, and if, as frequently happens, they hesitate for a moment, look at her and then decide to disobey her command, she should follow them up, still calling on them to come to her, but now in a severer tone, and the disobedient ones will generally falter and take refuge in any available place. Then is the time to punish them with a few sharp cuts of whip or cane. There will be no howling, as the pups know very well that they have transgressed, and will show it on the way home by answering promptly when they are called. Pups must be punished only when they are caught in the act of disobedience; but a sin of yesterday must never be punished to-day; because foxhounds, like all dogs, have a keen sense of justice, and only understand the meaning of punishment when it is timely administered. All attempts at hunting on their own account should be rigorously repressed, and the personal dignity of the house cats should be upheld. Even when the hounds are accorded the special favour of entering the house, our pussies must be no more disturbed by them than they would be by our house dogs who sleep near the fireside with them. I like to encourage hounds to visit me occasionally in the house, as then they are, so to speak, on their honour, and they so much appreciate these visits that they lie peacefully near the fire with the cats in perfect friendship, after having carefully examined, without touching, everything in the room. They may look and smell, but not touch, and as bad behaviour in this respect means instant ejection, they soon become like visitors to a museum. The worst about puppy walking is that one has to part with these delightful companions, and that parting is a time of sorrow which we feel almost as keenly as if they were our children leaving home for the first time with all life’s troubles before them.
CHAPTER XIX.
KINDNESS TO HORSES.
A great deal has been said and written about bad-tempered horses, but hardly enough anent the riders who make them sulky or irritable. Jorrocks’ remark that “the less a man knows about an ’oss, the more he expects” is perfectly true; for such persons seem to regard horses as machines, and are ever ready to slash them with the whip across the head, or any other part on which they think they can inflict most pain, and then when animals resent such cruelty, they dub them bad-tempered brutes! There are people belonging to the show-off brigade, who punish horses without the slightest provocation, in order to attract general attention to their fine (?) horsemanship. Their method is first to job the animal in the mouth, and when he exhibits the resulting signs of irritated surprise, to “lamb” him well. Another kind of horse-spoiler is the man who, having been angered by some person, vents his pent-up rage on his unfortunate mount. Far be it from me to call down the wrath of the lords of creation on my thin head by denouncing them all as cruel monsters, but my experience is that, in the majority of cases, horses are rendered vicious by brutal treatment on the part of men. A horse, like a dog, has a keen sense of justice; he never forgets unmerited punishment, but is in a constant state of nervous anxiety when ridden by a man who treats him unkindly. A dog exhibits a similar feeling of distrust of a cruel master by crouching up to him when called, instead of being delighted to see him, and according him a frisky welcome. I will give an instance of what I once saw a bad-tempered man do with a bird in India. The animal was a small green parrot which the man had taught to perform a certain trick; but I don’t know what it was, because the parrot did not execute it when asked to do so. The owner of the bird was a very mild private individual, who I thought was fond of animals, and who asked me to see the effect of his training on this parrot. He tried to get the little thing to perform, but as it would not, for some cause best known to itself, he actually wrung its neck in my presence! I shall never forget that incident, because it gave me one of the greatest shocks I have ever experienced. This was, of course, an exceptional case of temper, which I mention only to show to what extremities a violent burst of rage may carry a sane individual. We often hear of an uncontrollable temper, but I believe that every man can, if he likes, govern his rage, unless, of course, he is demented. If the vast majority of so-called vicious horses could write the story of their lives, what terrible tales of suffering and injustice they would relate! A horse, unlike a dog, bears punishment in silence, and any brutal creature may with impunity torture a horse, but if he tried to hurt a dog in like degree, the yelping of the animal would alarm the entire neighbourhood, and be almost certain to call forth a strong remonstrance from some lover of animals whose sympathy had been excited by hearing such piteous cries. People who are unacquainted with the inner life of stables, have no idea of the brutality which many grooms and strappers inflict on the animals in their charge. When we find a horse which is difficult to bridle, owing to the objection he has to allowing his muzzle or ears to be approached by the hand of man, we may be almost certain that this vice has been caused by the application of a twitch, either on his upper lip, or on one of his ears, a method of restraint which should never be employed. By laying down the law on this point of horse control, I in no way pose as an authority, but rely on what my husband, who is a veterinary surgeon, thinks on this matter. He tells me that during the two trips which he made in 1901 to South Africa in veterinary charge of remounts, he examined the mouths of over seven hundred horses and found that more than ten per cent. of them had been permanently injured, especially on the tongue, by the inhuman application of twitches. No one, veterinary surgeon or layman, is justified in using a twitch that will make the animal subsequently difficult to handle. If any of my readers wish to know how a twitch can be applied without this drawback, they should consult my husband’s book, Illustrated Horse Breaking. Of all horses, a good hunter which passes into the hands of an incompetent master, is most to be pitied. The wretched condition of many hunters is truly pitiable. Their skins, instead of showing the glow of health, present a dried-up, kippered-herring appearance, and some of the poor things have the miserable half-starved look of Berlin cab horses, chiefly because they live as a rule in a constant state of thirst, owing to the objection their grooms have of allowing them a sufficiency of water to drink. Such parched animals will quickly tell their mistress this secret, by loudly neighing, if, when she goes near their boxes or stalls, she takes up and rattles a stable bucket. This thirst torture is abominable cruelty.
In this country, grooms, as a rule, are given a free hand in the feeding and management of horses, with frequently disastrous results, owing to the consequent system of commissions and tips from horse dealers, corn dealers, saddlers and shoeing smiths. In India and the Colonies, horse-owners usually take a practical interest in the welfare of their equine servants, which are therefore properly fed, and have a plentiful supply of fresh water to drink. Almost all hunting grooms keep horses in loose boxes tied up during the day, in order to prevent them lying down, soiling themselves and disarranging the bedding, which would, of course, entail trouble on the stable attendants. To such men, the good effect of liberty on legs and health is, of course, a negligible quantity. It is evident that the benefit of a loose box is nullified, if the animal in it is tied up. When we visit horses in their stable and find that they exhibit terror at our approach, we may conclude that their fear is due to bad management, because no horse which has been kindly treated, will show the slightest fear on being approached. A class of groom whom I would not care to keep, is the funky man who is continually yelling at his animals, and thus unfits them to obey our words of command when we ride them. Every horse-owner, even from a purely humane point of view, should spare a few minutes at night before turning in, to see that the animals have got plenty of hay and are not parched with thirst. I would strongly plead for our dumb friends in this matter, because, on more than one occasion, I have found my horses shut up for the night without “bite or sup,” and by the welcome they always gave me, I know they were most grateful to me for my nightly visits, not only in neighing on hearing me speak, but also in dutifully obeying my voice when I rode them. If a horse, like a dog, gets to know that his mistress is his kindest friend, he will do his best to please her, and will remain steady at her command even under very great provocation to “play up.” Here again Jorrocks’ advice to know your horse comes in, for our stable friendship with our animals establishes a bond of unity which they will always remember and appreciate. Horses are very sporting animals, and the love of competition is inherent in them all, from the hack to the steeplechaser. When it is a question of a gallop, an old nag will put his best foot foremost and try to outdistance his companion, even though his chances of so doing may be extremely small. In hunting and racing we see horses gamely struggling on, often under severe punishment. To my mind, half the pleasure of witnessing equine competitions of speed and staying power is lost by the brutality of jockeys who, possibly from rage and disappointment at losing a race, often unmercifully punish their animals with whip and spurs, even when the first three horses have passed the winning post.
One of the most fruitful causes of bad mouths is the practice which many servants adopt of jerking the reins, when a horse which they are holding becomes restless, even when the inquietude consists merely in looking at passing objects. Men who adopt this barbarous method of control, never accompany the action of their hand with the voice, and, consequently, the unfortunate animal does not know why he is punished. He naturally connects any pressure of the mouth-piece on the bars of his mouth with the idea of pain, from which he tries to escape by throwing up his head. Hence, instead of going freely up to his bit, and thus putting himself in touch with his rider, he will fight against it and will be unpleasant, if not dangerous, to ride.