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].
CHAPTER XIII.
HINTS TO PURCHASERS. SHEEP KILLING.
[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 determined manner, 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 in [220] and [222]. 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 moment he 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. See [205 to 208].