The Dog

by Dinks; W. N. Hutchinson; Edward Mayhew

CHAPTER VI.

FIRST LESSON IN AUTUMN COMMENCED. RANGING.

[124]. A keeper nearly always breaks in his young dogs to "set," if their ages permit it, on favorable days in Spring, when the partridges have paired.[21] He gets plenty of points, and the birds lie well. But I cannot believe it is the best way to attain great excellence, though the plan has many followers: it does not cultivate the intelligence of his pupils, nor enlarge their ideas by making them sensible of the object for which such pains are taken in hunting them. Moreover, their natural ardor—a feeling that it should be his aim rather to increase than weaken—is more or less damped by having often to stand at game before they can be rewarded for their exertions by having it killed to them,—it prevents, rather than imparts, the zeal and perseverance for which Irish dogs are so remarkable. Particularly ought a breaker, whose pupil is of nervous temperament, or of too gentle a disposition, to consider well that the want of all recompense for finding paired birds must make a timid dog far more likely to become a "blinker," when he is checked for not pointing them, than when he is checked for not pointing birds which his own impetuosity alone deprives him of every chance of rapturously "touseling." The very fact that "the birds lie well" frequently leads to mischief; for, if the instructor be not very watchful, there is a fear that his youngsters may succeed in getting too close to their game before he forces them to come to a staunch point. A keeper, however, has but little choice—and it is not a bad time to teach the back—if his master insists upon shooting over the animals the first day of the season, and expects to find them what some call "perfectly broken in." But I trust some of my readers have nobler ends in view; therefore,

[125]. I will suppose your youngster to have been well grounded in his initiatory lessons, and that you take him out when the crops are nearly off the ground—by which time there will be few squeakers—on a fine cool day in September,—alas! that it cannot be an August day on the moors,—to show him birds for the first time. As he is assumed to be highly bred, you may start in the confident expectation of killing partridges over him, especially if he is a pointer. Have his nose moist and healthy. Take him out when the birds are on the feed, and of an afternoon in preference to the morning,—unless from an unusually dry season there be but little scent,—that he may not be attracted by the taint of hares or rabbits. Take him out alone, if he evince any disposition to hunt, which, at the age we will presume him to have attained next season, we must assume that he will do, and with great zeal. Be much guided by his temper and character. Should he possess great courage and dash, you cannot begin too soon to make him point. You should always check a wild dog in racing after pigeons and small birds on their rising; whereas you should encourage a timid dog—one who clings to "heel"—in such a fruitless but exciting chase. The measures to be pursued with such an animal are fully detailed in [111], [112].

[126]. I may as well caution you against adopting the foolish practice of attempting to cheer on your dog with a constant low whistle, under the mistaken idea that it will animate him to increased zeal in hunting. From perpetually hearing the monotonous sound, it would prove as little of an incentive to exertion as a continued chirrup to a horse; and yet if habituated to it, your dog would greatly miss it whenever hunted by a stranger. Not unregarded, however, would it be by the birds, to whom on a calm day it would act as a very useful warning.

[127]. Though you have not moors, fortunately we can suppose your fields to be of a good size. Avoid all which have recently been manured. Select those that are large, and in which you are the least likely to find birds, until his spirits are somewhat sobered, and he begins partly to comprehend your instructions respecting his range. There is no reason why he should not have been taken out a few days before this, not to show him birds, but to have commenced teaching him how to traverse his ground. Indeed, if we had supposed him of a sufficient age—[111]—he might by this time be somewhat advanced towards a systematic beat. It is seeing birds early that is to be deprecated, not his being taught how to range.

[128]. Be careful to enter every field at the leeward[22] side—about the middle,—that he may have the wind to work against. Choose a day when there is a breeze, but not a boisterous one. In a calm the scent is stationary, and can hardly be found unless accidentally. In a gale it is scattered to the four quarters.[23] You want not an undirected ramble, but a judicious traversing beat under your own guidance, which shall leave no ground unexplored, and yet have none twice explored.

[129]. Suppose the form of the field, as is usually the case, to approach a parallelogram or square, and that the wind blows in any direction but diagonally across it. On entering at the leeward side send the dog from you by a wave of your hand or the word "On." You wish him, while you are advancing up the middle of it, to cross you at right angles, say from right to left,—then to run up-wind for a little, parallel to your own direction, and afterwards to recross in front of you from left to right, and so on until the whole field is regularly hunted. To effect this, notwithstanding your previous preparatory lessons, you will have to show him the way, as it were—setting him an example in your own person,—by running a few steps in the direction you wish him to go—say to the right,—cheering him on to take the lead. As he gets near the extremity of his beat, when he does not observe you, he can steal a small advance in the true direction of your own beat, which is directly up the middle of the field meeting the wind. If perceiving your advance he turn towards you, face him—wave your right hand to him, and, while he sees you, run on a few paces in his direction—that is, parallel to his true direction. As he approaches the hedge—the one on your right hand, but be careful that he does not get close to it, lest, from often finding game there, he ultimately become a potterer and regular hedge hunter—face towards him, and on catching his eye, wave your left arm. If you cannot succeed in catching his eye, you must give one low whistle—the less you habituate yourself to use the whistle, the less you will alarm the birds—study to do all, as far as is practicable, by signals. You wish your wave of the left arm to make the dog turn to the left—his head to the wind,—and that he should run parallel to the side of the hedge for some yards—say from thirty to forty—before he makes his second turn to the left to cross the field; but you must expect him to turn too directly towards you on your first signal to turn. Should he by any rare chance have made the turn—the first one—correctly, and thus be hunting up-wind, on no account interrupt him by making any signals until he has run up the distance you wish—the aforesaid thirty or forty yards,—then again catch his eye, and, as before—not now, however, faced towards him and the hedge, but faced towards your true direction,—by a wave of the left arm endeavor to make him turn to the left—across the wind. If, contrary to what you have a right to suppose, he will not turn towards you on your giving a whistle and wave of your hand, stand still, and continue whistling—eventually he will obey. But you must not indulge in the faintest hope that all I have described will be done correctly; be satisfied at first with an approach towards accuracy; you will daily find an improvement, if you persevere steadily. When you see that there is but little chance of his turning the way you want, at once use the signal more consonant to his views, for it should be your constant endeavor to make him fancy that he is always ranging according to the directions of your hands. Be particular in attending to this hint.

[130]. His past tuition—[34]—most probably will have accustomed him to watch your eye for directions, therefore it is not likely, even should he have made a wrong turn near the hedge—a turn down-wind instead of up-wind, which would wholly have prevented the required advance parallel to the hedge,—that he will cross in rear of you. Should he, however, do so, retreat a few steps,—or face about, if he is far in the rear,—in order to impress him with the feeling that all his work must be performed under your eye. Animate him with an encouraging word as he passes. When he gets near the edge to the left, endeavor, by signals—agreeably to the method just explained—[129]—to make him turn to the—his—right, his head to the wind, and run up alongside of it for thirty to forty yards, if you can manage it, before he begins to recross the field, by making a second turn to the right. If you could get him to do this, he would cross well in advance of you.

[131]. Though most likely his turn—the first—the turn up-wind—will be too abrupt—too much of an acute angle instead of the required right angle,—and that consequently, in order to get ahead of you, he will have to traverse the field diagonally, yet after a few trials it is probable he will do so rather than not get in front of you. This would be better than the former attempt—not obliging you to face about—express your approval, and the next turn near the hedge may be made with a bolder sweep. Remember your aim is, that no part be unhunted, and that none once commanded by his nose should be again hunted. He ought to cross, say thirty yards in front of you, but much will depend upon his nose.