By the Norwegian law, elk-hunting with the loose dog is in reality forbidden; at the same time, in several districts it is practised to a considerable extent, and with impunity. But it is in Sweden that this style of chase is most in vogue. To begin with, the physical geography of that country lends itself to the sport. The Swedish forest is for the most part of a rolling character, swelling and sinking into hill and dale of respectively moderate elevation and depth, and spreading out into huge morasses and tracts of natural upland meadow with a degree of uniformity that produces tame and somewhat monotonous scenery. Sweden lacks the deep, gloomy gorges, the precipitous or terraced mountain-faces, the boulder-strewn and birch-clad dells of the higher fjeld, and the barren, stony summits which are characteristic of Norway, and amongst which, if a courageous and persevering hound be loosed at elk, there is great danger of his being quickly and entirely lost to sight and hearing. It is said that an elk can go wherever a man can, and, although this may be somewhat of an exaggeration, inasmuch as no elk could climb the Matterhorn, it is nevertheless astonishing what tremendous ascents and descents his long legs can accomplish under pressure, and with what rapidity he will travel for miles over the fjeld, from valley to valley, so that the most active followers of the loose dog would in such a chase be nowhere.
The elk hound belongs to the breed used by the Esquimaux, a small species of which is known in England under the name of ‘Spitz.’ There are two types of this dog, the one being smaller, lighter limbed, and more finely coated than the other; but they have in common the characteristics of thick hair with an undergrowth of wool, sharp noses and ears, and a bushy, tightly-curled tail, like the inner whorls of a fossil ammonite. Their colour ranges through various shades of grey, brindled and foxy, is occasionally pure black or white, or a mixture of the two. A well-bred and thoroughly well-trained elk hound is a valuable animal and hard to procure: 25l. to 30l.—a large sum in Scandinavia—or even more, is not too high a price for a perfect animal, when we consider how much is required of him, how greatly the enjoyment and success of the sportsman depend upon his experience, sagacity, nose, speed and courage, and how considerable is the market value of each animal that by his aid falls to the rifle of the professional hunter: head, hide and meat included, it may be set at from 6l. to 10l. But the leash-hound, to be used only as a stalking dog, seldom commands anything like so high a price, the Scandinavian natives being, as a rule, singularly ignorant or impatient of this style of pursuit. The best leash-hounds are those which are never loosed. This will be easily understood when we reflect that in stalking a thoroughly good dog will be mute under all circumstances, and always temperate, never straining violently at the leader, even when most eager and excited by the proximity of the elk: whereas it is essential that the loose dog should give tongue freely when he finds, overtakes, or bays the deer, in order that the sound may serve as a guide to the shooter. With the constant expectation of being loosed, he can hardly be expected to restrain his emotions when his instinct, or possibly eyesight, tells him that the glorious moment of freedom is, or ought to be, at hand. Few, if any, dogs can play both rôles equally well; it will be found that a hound accustomed to being loosed will, in stalking, invariably strain impetuously at the leader, and that it is not safe to let him view the elk, as he will in all probability whine or bark: on the other hand, one that is rarely slipped will only follow for a few hundred yards, and seldom or never stop a deer. I do not deny that good useful dogs may now and then be found who will acquit themselves tolerably in either character, but I am speaking only of the best of each class. Thoroughly broken and trustworthy dogs are sometimes allowed to range the forest from the first, but as a rule the hound is never slipped until, either from his conduct, or from his own observation of signs,[13] the hunter becomes certain that the elk is not far off, or until he despairs altogether of finding one, and trusts to the dog as a last chance. This is but a too common ending to a day when the forest tract is large and fresh signs of elk not discoverable. A brace of dogs are frequently allowed to run at the same time, but it is a safe maxim that when a single dog notifies that he has found and bayed the elk, a second should not be loosed, as his sudden appearance on the scene will often start the deer off and render him more difficult to stop.
In searching for elk with the dog still in hand the hunter works slowly up and across wind, utilising his knowledge of country to the utmost advantage. The dog at such a time—and this applies equally to both styles of hunting—precedes him at a distance of five or six feet, being restrained by a leader or leash, which is fastened to the harness. The best form of harness consists of a belly-band and chest-strap of softest leather sewn together, and further united by a strap which passes between the dog’s forelegs. The belly-band buckles just between the shoulders, and at this point the leader is attached either to a ring or by a simple knot. Some hunters are content to use an ordinary collar; but this is a wretched plan, as with a dog at all given to pulling it produces choking and eventually injures the wind. When the harness is properly made all pressure is on the strap across the broad of the chest. On catching the wind of elk, or of their fresh spoor, the dog naturally faces towards it, when the hunter must use his judgment as to the right moment for loosing. The part of the loose dog, having once found the elk, is either to bring him to bay, or to cause him so far to slacken his pace that the shooter may be able to get up. Whilst the elk is running at speed, the dog is generally mute in pursuing, but the experienced hunter can tell by his note whether the quarry is moving at a moderate pace or is actually stationary. The old bulls, when they have not got wind of man or been otherwise scared, are often easily brought to bay, and in such a case the hunter may approach almost at his leisure; but younger elk, and cows in particular, are much more difficult to stop, and will, as a rule, travel a considerable, sometimes a great, distance before halting. Deer of all ages are specially shy if they have been roused when lying down. Their daily siesta lasts from about noon—or sometimes, according to weather, an hour or two earlier—until two or three in the afternoon, and consequently hunters with the loose dog generally halt during this period, or at least part of it, and bivouac in the forest. It is said—and, I believe, with some truth—that in those districts of Sweden where the elk are during the season continually hunted in this fashion, they are invariably suspicious, when the hound puts in an appearance, that man is somewhere in the background, and that, even when at bay, they are straining their senses to detect the presence of their real enemy, being of course perfectly aware that the dogs, for all their noise, can do them no harm. It is in any case needful for the hunter, however recklessly he may have been running before, to make his final approach as cautiously and noiselessly as possible; and this is not so easy in a Scandinavian forest, where the ground is usually cumbered with any number of dead trees armed with spikes as sharp as rapiers, of rotten trunks half-buried in moss and rank vegetation, and of dry branches and twigs which crack loudly beneath the over-hasty and incautious foot. In the rutting season indeed such a noise is now and then of some slight service to the hunter. I have known several instances in which, the wind being right, a bull either searching for the cow or suspicious of a rival has run back out of the thicket to see what was approaching, and paid the penalty of his curiosity. Such an incident can of course only occur when the dog is in hand, and the sportsman will do well not to presume upon its very rare advantage.
I recollect a scared elk running twenty English miles, with the dog still sticking to him. After giving me a difficult chance, he broke his bay two or three times during the first hour of the chase, and how many times subsequently I cannot say, as, finding the pace too hot for my age and weight, I stopped and let the hunter, who was young and light and a celebrated runner, go on with my rifle. This happened about 11 A.M., and he shot the elk just before dusk. His dog, dear old Kurrè, was one of the staunchest loose hounds that ever lived; he was, in fact, too good, for if he once got up to the elk he would never leave it until dark, and not always then. On one occasion he held a bull at bay all night, until his master came early in the morning and killed it.
So keen was this dog to keep the attention of the bayed elk on himself, that with a kind of demoniacal glee he would actually roll on the ground just out of reach of his forefeet. When very young he had been struck by an elk, and was supposed at the time to be seriously if not mortally injured; but he recovered himself, went on again, and eventually stopped the bull, which was then shot. With all this ferocious courage there never was a dog more gentle, good-tempered, and well-behaved in ordinary life. When an elk hound, as is certainly not often the case, is possessed of such magnificent staunchness as this, great care must be taken never to slip him at a scared elk, unless the shooter is prepared for, and physically equal to, a long stern chase which may last for some hours. Moreover, others besides the owner of the dog may profit by his grand qualities. The law of Scandinavia permits an elk that has been bonâ fide in the flesh roused on and moved off one property, to be followed at the time on to another and there killed, although one may not so follow the freshest spoor of an animal that is simply travelling of his own accord; there is, however, nothing to prevent the owner of the other property from killing the elk thus moved on to it. I was once hunting near the great lake Kallsjön in Sweden, with Kurrè and his master, when the dog, who was running loose, slipped away unperceived and took up the fresh spoor of elk which he did not overtake until out of our hearing. Having no clue to the direction in which he had gone, we were at last, as evening came on, compelled to go home without him. The next day he was sent back with many thanks by a farmer who lived some miles off, and had heard the dog baying the elk close to a tarn where he happened to be fishing. The man ran home for his rifle, returned to find Kurrè still holding the family of three—bull, cow, and calf—and killed the lot in three shots! No, Kurrè was positively too good. Some dogs are cleverly trained never to cross a large river or a lake in pursuit, which in a land of many waters like Scandinavia precludes the chance of their getting too far away. I believe that Kurrè would have swum the Skagerrak after an elk. But the great majority of elk dogs will give in as soon as the deer really takes to travelling, and too many of them much sooner. The hunter must be careful not to let the leader slip out of his hand when the dog is straining eagerly on spoor, and never to loose him with even only a collar on. Considering that the elk when tackled by the dog will, as a rule, make his way through dense covert and over the most tremendous obstacles in the shape of ‘windfalls,’ where the dog has to keep him company, it will be understood that any even momentary check to the latter’s nimble movements, such as might be caused by a tree-spike catching in the collar, may result in his being disabled or killed. I once, when stalking, fired from the top of a high steep bank at an elk which dropped to the shot and lay motionless. The hunter, who was behind me, thinking the beast stone-dead, foolishly let go the dog, who, with the harness on and the leader trailing, ran down the bank, and when within a few yards of the deer was brought up short by the leader becoming entangled in the branches of a fallen tree. The elk at this moment revived, and was able to rise so far as to squat on his haunches, but the hind quarters being paralysed by a shot in the spine, he could not reach the dog, otherwise he would most certainly have destroyed him, unless I could have dropped him again with a second bullet; but one instant and one blow of the forefoot would have been sufficient for the catastrophe. The hunter, who assured me he had never done so foolish a thing before, was lucky in having the possible result of his first folly brought home to him by so forcible and harmless a lesson.
From what has been said it will be clear that elk hunting with the loose dog is a manly, noble sport, fitted in reality for those who have youth, activity, and decided staying powers. At the same time the race is not always to the swift; experience, cunning, and knowledge of country will effect a great deal, and under certain conditions the elderly hunter may achieve some success; but if the elk really means running, he may as well confess at once that he is not in it, and sit down and light his pipe. But I strongly recommend him to turn his attention solely to stalking with the leash-hound. He will find it scarcely less exciting than the other branch of the sport, and quite fatiguing enough, although it lacks that species of triumph, so dear to Englishmen, which results from success attained by very distressing physical exertion. The serious drawbacks to loose-dog hunting are, first, the common necessity of killing time in the forest—or, it may be, in a ‘sæter’ or hay-house—for some hours and in all weathers whilst the elk are lying down. Secondly, the fact that it is, to a great extent, blind work, that one is entirely dependent on the dog and must run to a sound, that there is little or no opportunity for the science of woodcraft, and none for that study of the object of the chase which is so dear to the stalker. Thirdly, that you cannot run a single deer for any distance without disturbing a great extent of country. Fourthly, that there is the obligation, if not invariably yet nearly so, to kill whatever beast the hound has succeeded in stopping, be it a young bull with insignificant honours or a cow with a calf in tow. The Swedish hunter never gives quarter; his immutable doctrine may be summed up in the words, ‘Meat for the man, and blood for the dog.’ He will not risk disappointing his hound and perhaps ruining his staunchness, nor will he, if he can help it, stultify the whole raison d’être of the chase, nor forego his hankering after the flesh-pots. I do not say that the English sportsman is absolutely compelled to adhere to this merciless creed, but he will find it difficult to withstand. He is the actor in a drama in which the hound takes the leading part throughout until the climax, and for that he is himself responsible; excitement, struggle, endurance, opportunity, these are the several stages; it rests with him what the final one is to be: if failure, well, man is prone to err and so is his bullet; after all, he has done his best and tried to succeed—but refusal! I think he will become conscious, possibly against his will, that this is, under the conditions of such a chase, the most miserable fiasco of all: the chance at last, and tamely to forego it! he will feel that he who acts thus is deserving of that limbo to which Dante consigned the otherwise blameless man who refused the popedom:
Che fece per viltate il gran rifiuto.
I find it to be commonly supposed that the chase of the elk is almost always confined to comparatively low ground, covered with pine wood and swampy thickets. There was a time when I had this notion myself, and as regards Sweden it is, no doubt to a great extent, a correct one. But I have recently had reason to change my mind a good deal on this point, and I cannot do better than quote the following passage from an article of mine in the ‘Fortnightly Review’:
Under the guidance of Elias (my Lapp hunter), who is a master in woodcraft, elk hunting was, in a great degree, assimilated to deer stalking. He was all for pursuing the chase on the highest possible ground. ‘There are, of course, always elk in the low pine forest,’ he would say, ‘and in winter it is full of them; but at this season of the year the place to find and kill them is the high fjeld, or thereabouts.’ That this dictum was in the main correct is proved by the fact that last season, during thirty-two days’ hunting, we sighted—including all ages and both sexes—no fewer than forty-one distinct elk, over two-thirds of which were found on the high terraces and slopes just under the crest of the mountains, or in the quiet dells and hollows of the fjeld itself, where the birch-copse often grew barely high enough to conceal them. They were occasionally seen lying out in the open, like red deer. The term ‘high’ as applied to the fjeld is, of course, relative to the general elevation of the country.
We found the best stalking ground at between 1,500 and 2,000 ft. above the level of the valleys. I am here, of course, speaking of Norway, where in the vast desolate districts north of Namsos I have been lucky enough to secure the sole right to kill elk over a considerable tract, about equal in size to the county of Surrey.[14]