A well-known angler was in the habit of being attended by a pointer-dog, who saved him the trouble of a landing-net in his trout-fishing excursions. When he had hooked a fish and brought it near the bank, the dog would be in readiness, and taking the fish behind the head, would bring it out to his master.
A writer, who endeavours to prove the existence of souls analogous to the human in animals, relates the following remarkable fact, of which he was himself an eye-witness. He says:—
"I was with a gentleman who resides in the country, in his study, when a pointer-dog belonging to him came running to the door of the room, which was shut, scratching and barking till he was admitted. He then used supplicating gestures of every kind, running from his master to the stair behind which his gun stood, then again to his master, and back to the gun. The gentleman now comprehended something of his dog's meaning, and took up his gun. The dog immediately gave a bark of joy, ran out at the door, returned, and then ran to the back-door of the house, from whence he took the road to a neighbouring hill.
"His master and I followed him. The dog ran, highly pleased, a little distance before us, showing us the way we should take. After we had proceeded about forty paces, he gave us to understand that we should turn to the left, by pressing repeatedly against his master, and pushing him towards the road that turned to the left. We followed his direction, and he accompanied us a few paces, but suddenly he turned to the right, running round the whole of the hill. We still proceeded to the left, slowly up the ascent, till we were nearly arrived at its summit, the dog in the meantime making the circuit of the hill to the right. He was now already higher than we were, when he gave a sudden bark, and that moment a hare ran before the muzzle of his master's gun, and, of course, met her fate."
A gentleman had a pointer so fleet that he often backed him to find birds in a ten-acre field within two minutes, if there were birds in it. On entering the field, he seemed to know by instinct where the birds would lie, generally going up to them at once. His nose was so good, that with a brisk wind, he would find his game a hundred and fifty yards off across the furrows. He could tell whether a bird was hit, and if so would retrieve it some fields off from where it was shot. He would never follow a hare unless it was wounded. He would point water-fowl as well as all birds of game, and has been seen pointing a duck or a moor-hen with the water running over his back at the time. Nothing seemed to spoil this dog, not even rat and otter hunting, in both of which he was an adept, as he knew his business; and although he would rattle through a wood, he was perfectly steady the next minute out of cover. He has been known to continue at a point two hours. In high turnips he would contrive to show his master where he was, standing sometimes on his hind legs only, so that his head and fore-quarters might be seen. On one occasion he came at full speed so suddenly on a hare, that he slipped up, and fell nearly on his back. In this position he did not move, and it was thought he was in a fit, till the hare jumped up and was killed, when the dog righted himself. So steady was he in backing another dog when game was found, that he once caught sight of a point at the moment of jumping a stile, and balanced himself on it for several seconds till he fell. Once when hunting with a young pointer, who had only been taken into the field two or three times, in order to show him some birds before the shooting season, the following occurrence took place. The old dog found some birds in the middle of the field, and pointed them steadily. The puppy had been jumping and gambolling about, with no great hunt in him, and upon seeing the old dog stand, ran playfully up to him. He was, however, seized by the neck, and received a good shaking, which sent him away howling, and his companion then turned round and steadied himself on his point, without moving scarcely a yard. This anecdote is extracted from Hone's "Year Book," and the writer of it goes on to say,—"What dog is there possessing the singular self-denial of the pointer or setter? The hound gives full play to his feelings; chases, and babbles, and kicks up as much riot as he likes, provided he is true to his game; the spaniel has no restraint, except being kept within gun-shot; the greyhound has it all his own way as soon as he is loosed; and the terrier watches at a rat's hole, because he cannot get into it: but the pointer, at the moment that other dogs satisfy themselves, and rush upon their game, suddenly stops, and points with almost breathless anxiety to that which we might naturally suppose he would eagerly seize. The birds seen, the dog creeps after them cautiously, stopping at intervals, lest by a sudden movement he should spring them too soon. And then let us observe and admire his delight when his anxiety—for it is anxiety—is crowned with success—when the bird falls, and he lays it joyfully at his master's feet. A pointer should never be ill-used. He is too much like one of us. He has more headpiece than all the rest of the dogs put together. Narrowly watch a steady pointer on his game, and see how he holds his breath. It is evident he must stand in a certain degree of pain, for we all know how quickly a dog respires. And when he comes up to you in the field he puffs and blows, and his tongue is invariably hanging out of his mouth. We never see this on a point, and to check it suddenly must give the dog pain. And yet, how silent he is! how eager he looks! and if a sudden hysteric gasp is heard, it ceases in a moment. Surely he is the most perfect artist of the canine race."
Some of my readers may like to know that the best breaker of pointers I have yet met with is Mr. Lucas, one of the keepers of Richmond Park. He perfectly understands his business, and turns out his pointers in a way which few can equal.
In August 1857, a gentleman residing at Ludlow, in Shropshire, had a pointer bitch, which produced seven puppies. Six of them were drowned, and one left. On the servant going the next morning to give her some milk, she found, besides the puppy, a hedgehog, which had been in the garden some years, most comfortably curled up with them. She took it away, but my informant being told that it had got back again, he went to see it. The pointer was licking it, and appeared quite as fond of it as of her own puppy. He again had it removed, the bitch following, and whining with evident anxiety to have it restored to her. This was the more remarkable, as on previous occasions she had tried to kill the hedgehog. This strange affection can only be accounted for by an abundant flow of milk, which distended and hurt her, occasioned by her other puppies having been destroyed, and she, therefore, seized on the hedgehog to relieve her, however incongruous it might be to her former feelings towards it.
