Nobody can persuade a gamekeeper that dogs lack reasoning powers. We were watching a terrier at work, and she gave us a pretty example of something very like intelligence. A pheasant was winged, fell on a bare field, and ran for a thick dell—the terrier in pursuit. She made one or two ineffectual attempts to gather the bird, until within a score of yards of the dell—then she raced ahead. She seemed to realise that there was so much cover in the dell that direct attempts to take the bird were risky—and she proceeded to work the pheasant to a safe distance from the cover before tackling it again, this time effectively.
When this little terrier has marked a rabbit or a rat in a patch of grass or brambles, her common sense tells her that if she dives in after her quarry it may dash out unseen by her, by reason of the grass or brambles. So she stands by, and stamps, and otherwise tries to make her game bolt, in a way which will allow her to see the direction; and she is seldom baffled. It is difficult to decide whether this terrier is more or less reasonable than her kennel companion, a retriever, when feeding-time comes. If at feeding-time the retriever has a biscuit left over from the last meal, which she has lightly buried, on her master's approach she will promptly disinter the treasure, holding it out as much as to say: "Thank you, I need no biscuit." But experiments with the terrier show that she will ever refuse to give the slightest indication of a buried hoard. Whether she needs a biscuit or not, she always takes one when offered, as though she desired nothing better in the world.
A good story in proof of a retriever's reasoning powers is told by an old-time sportsman. He was shooting beside a frozen stream, and winged a mallard, which fell in mid-stream. His dog crashed on to the ice, broke through it, and fought her way to the middle, where the ice only skimmed the water. She swam round for a moment, then broke her way to the opposite bank, paused to give a knowing look at the thin ice, and went down stream at full speed for about eighty yards. Running down the bank, she broke a hole in the ice with her fore-paws, then crouched back, watching the hole. In a few moments she made a spring and plunged in, reappearing in mid-stream with the mallard in her mouth. There was no doubt, at least in her master's mind, that she had broken the hole for the purpose of catching the bird when he came up to breathe.
Born Retrieving
A keeper owned two retriever puppies who were given a curious start in life. Their mother was shut up at home, while her master went to shoot some rooks. She was the proud mother of five new-born puppies, but her litter was not complete. A few rooks had been shot, and the keeper was waiting for others to appear, when up ran the retriever carrying a rook in her mouth; somehow she had managed to get out, and had followed to see the sport. She was sent back to her puppies, and directly she reached home two new puppies were born. They were born, as one might say, retrieving.
Some Sporting Types
The most common type of gunner is the man who kills frequently, but is not a good shot because he does not know how to take his birds. He would double his bag if he would put every shot a foot farther forward—that golden foot forward—if he would not fire when in the act of turning (which must depress the gun's muzzle), and if he would remember that driven birds on seeing a man rise immediately and instinctively, even at right angles to their line of flight. The keeper detests the man who continually sends him to pick up game which has never fallen. For these knowing gentlemen, he is a wise keeper who carries a special bird or two in his pocket, against the time when they say, in their haughty way, "Aw, my man, kindly pick up my bird that fell tha-ar!"
The luckiest shot we ever met was a colonel who, one windy day, happened to be stationed by himself on a road lined by telegraph-wires. All the birds came his way, and with ten shots he killed one. Startled by his volleys, a bunch of passing birds blundered into the telegraph-wires which, more deadly than the gun, claimed nine victims. The colonel was a study in modesty when he remarked a little later that in ten shots he had been lucky enough to bag five brace.