On pigeon-shooting I will not waste many words. To shoot a strong “blue rock,” released from one of five traps, at a rise of between twenty and thirty yards, is not, as some people think, an easy thing to do. On the contrary, it is a very difficult thing to do, the result being that, even when good shots are competing, many birds get away wounded, to die a lingering death. Moreover, if a test of skill be all that is required, the clay pigeon answers the purpose quite as well as, if not better than, the living bird. I might dwell, too, on the injuries sometimes done to the birds when closely packed in hampers for transport purposes. But it is, I think, sufficient to say that it is now generally recognised in this country that the practice of shooting captive birds from traps has about it none of the elements of “sport” properly so-called. It is a mere medium for betting and money-making, or money-losing, without any of those healthy, invigorating, and athletic concomitants which do something to redeem genuine “sport” from the reproach of cruelty; and if cruelty be the unjustifiable infliction of pain, then it can, I think, hardly be doubted that pigeon-shooting must be classed among cruel sports. Of this opinion was the House of Commons thirty-one years ago; for in the year 1883 a Bill passed through that House, on second reading, to put down this spurious sport by law. And to show how poorly it is now esteemed, even in fashionable circles, it may be mentioned that the Hurlingham Club, where pigeon-shooting was once regularly carried on, some years ago decided to prohibit this unworthy practice in their grounds.
It remains to consider the two spurious sports of rabbit-coursing and the hunting of carted deer. Let us take the latter first.
What are the animals employed for this form of fashionable amusement? They are park-bred deer, kept in paddocks or stables, and carefully fed and exercised. It is said on behalf of the “stag-hunters” (so called) that to do the deer any injury is the last thing they wish for; on the contrary, their desire is to recapture the animal alive and well, in order that he or she may afford sport another day. This, doubtless, is true enough; but, unfortunately, the deer is terrified by the chase, and becomes exhausted in the course of it. Unfortunately, too, there are such things as spiked iron railings and barbed-wire fences, to say nothing of walls and other obstacles with which the hunted deer is confronted in his cross-country flight. The result is inevitable, and such as all reasoning men know to be inevitable—namely, that from time to time terrible “accidents,” as they are euphemistically called, take place, some of which, but by no means all, find their way into the columns of our newspapers. Thus, to give an example, it twice happened within a period of eight months that a miserable hunted deer impaled itself upon a spiked iron fence at Reading, which in its terror it essayed to jump, but which in its exhaustion it failed to clear. I could give case after case in which a hunted deer has lacerated itself in the attempt to leap a barbed-wire fence; broken a leg, or perhaps (more mercifully) its neck, in trying to clear a gate or wall; cut and wounded itself by jumping on a greenhouse or glass frames; fallen exhausted before the hounds, and been bitten and torn by them; sought refuge in a river, canal, or pond, and been drowned by the pursuing pack. Ten such cases are known to have occurred in six months with one pack only, hunting in the Home Counties, and six tame deer were done to death by that same pack within that period.
These cases formed the subject of questions put by me to the late Prime Minister, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, in the House of Commons. I should like to quote his answer given to one of such questions on March 14, 1907: “If such cruelties are perpetrated, and we can do anything to stop them, I shall be very glad. I am against cruelty of any sort, whether under the name of sport or otherwise. I like it rather less under the cloak of sport than otherwise.” Nay, this cruel and contemptible travesty of sport was once, in a lucid interval, condemned, even by that well-known and recognised organ of sport, The Field, “the country gentleman’s newspaper.” For in The Field of September 3, 1892, we read as follows:
“If we look at this fiction of chase from an unprejudiced standpoint, we must admit that it is only prescription and usage which enable us to retain it in our sporting schedule and to tolerate it as legitimate. Strictly speaking, it stands on the same footing as bull and bear baiting, both of which have had to go to the wall under the influence of what is called the march of civilization.”[4]
Need I say more? Surely the case is too clear for argument—except, indeed, for certain peers in the Gilded Chamber, whose hidebound prejudice seems to be impervious to reason!
So much for the hunting of carted deer, the spurious sport of the rich. What shall we say of rabbit-coursing, which has been described as the sport of the poor, but which would, I think, be better called “the spurious sport of the spurious poor”? Here, too, I can speak as an eye-witness, and I will repeat the description of what I saw, as it appeared in a London newspaper:
“Wishing to see for myself what goes on at the ‘sport’ of rabbit-coursing, I took train on Sunday morning to Worcester Park Station, whence a walk of about a mile leads to the field where the entertainment is provided. Here was soon gathered together an assembly of about three hundred ‘sportsmen,’ mostly lads and larrikins. There was a large number of dogs, chiefly of the ‘whippet’ breed, and many of them carefully clothed after the manner of greyhounds. The ear was assailed by the noise of continual barking, and the nose by whiffs from a neighbouring sewage farm. After we had waited some little time a van was drawn on the ground heavily laden with large shallow hampers packed with live rabbits. Three or four of these hampers were brought forward to the starting-point; a stout gentleman who carried a revolver and appeared to ‘boss the show,’ gave the order ‘to get behind the ropes,’ some juvenile and promising bookmakers mounted stools, and the fun commenced.
“Two dogs are led to the starting-point amidst shouts of ‘I’ll lay three to one,’ ‘I’ll lay seven to four,’ etc., quite in the approved sporting style. A man opens a sort of trap-door in the lid of one of the hampers, seizes one of the cowering rabbits by the skin of the back, presents it to each dog alternately, in order, I presume, to excite him to the utmost, runs with it, still held in one hand by the skin of the back, some thirty-five yards, and then flings it down, whereupon a shot is fired from the revolver, the dogs are released and rush madly for the prey. What follows requires some explanation. Let it be remembered that these are, or were, wild rabbits, among the most timorous of wild creatures; that they have probably undergone the horrible experience of being driven from their burrows by the ferret some days (and who shall say how many days?) before; that they have been sent by rail to town; that they are carted to the scene of action closely packed in hampers; that they are, for a long time previously to being ‘coursed,’ surrounded by shouting men and barking dogs, and that after all this, weak, dazed, and half paralysed with fear, the victim is ‘dumped down’ in the middle of a strange field.