On glancing round the attic, we observe that our rifle, and double-barrelled Dickson, have lain untouched since November last. We must look to this gear speedily; for time is stealing on, and the twelfth of August will be upon us before we have recovered from the heat of these elections. We intend, weather permitting, to knock down on that day as many brace as may correspond with Lord Derby’s majority—and the news of the result of the first contested election in England should arrive about this time. Indeed, we suppose it has arrived, for there is an unusual sound in the street, and a bawling as of triumphant partisans. We open the window, peer over, and behold a frantic Constitutionalist gesticulating like a windmill. What is the row down there? “The two Conservative candidates returned for Liverpool by an immense majority!” Heaven be praised! Mr Cardwell has got his gruel at last. Go home, our fine fellow, and try, if possible, to keep sober. At the same time, we consider it necessary to dedicate a special bumper in honour of this event, for first blood is always a great point in a battle. With three cheers, which startle the swallows from their equanimity, we drink to the health of the electors of Liverpool, who have so nobly done their duty; and to that of Messrs Turner and Forbes Mackenzie, their staunch and worthy representatives.
If this sort of thing goes on, we shall have work before us on the Twelfth. On that day, many an unfledged sportsman will take the hillside for the first time; and for their benefit we transcribe a few sentences, by way of precept, from Mr Colquhoun’s book. Let them, however, read diligently the whole of his chapter upon grouse and black game shooting, and we promise them that, by adopting his suggestions, they will bring home a heavier bag than they could secure by following the advice of any other mentor.
“Most young shots are not content unless they are upon the moor by peep of day, on the long-anticipated 12th of August. And what is the result? They have found and disturbed most of the packs before they have well fed, and one half will rise out of distance, and fly away unbroken. Had the moor been left quiet till eight or nine o’clock, four double shots might have been obtained at almost every pack, and many would have been scattered for the evening shooting. It will generally be found that if two equal shots, upon equal moors, uncouple their dogs, one at five o’clock and the other at eight, and compare notes at two in the afternoon, the lazy man will have the heaviest game-bag, and his ground will be in best order for the deadly time of the day, to say nothing of his competitor’s disadvantage from having fruitlessly wasted his own strength and that of his dogs, when many of the packs would not allow him to come within reach. My advice, therefore, to the young grouse-shooter, is always to wait till the dew is dry on the heather. If he starts at eight o’clock, and travels the moors as he ought, there is time enough before dark to put his powers to the proof, however he may pique himself upon them. I do not mean to say he must run over the ground, but keep up a steady, determined walk, up hill and down hill, without flagging for an instant, unless the dogs come upon the scent of game. Of all sports, grouse-shooting is the most laborious. None can stand a comparison with it except deer-stalking; and yet the veriest “soft,” puffing and blowing at every step, may put off a whole day upon the moors—travelling them, I will not call it—and boast after dinner that “he wonders how people can find grouse-shooting so toilsome and fatiguing—fox-hunting is much more so.””
This, however, with all deference to Mr Colquhoun, requires to be received with qualification. One man may work himself very nearly to death at grouse-shooting with no more success than another who takes it leisurely. If you go out with numerous relays of dogs, letting loose a couple, or perhaps three high-bred and far-ranging pointers at a time, you will undoubtedly, on any average moor, get exercise enough to knock you up long before the day is over. You must necessarily walk up to every point, whether it be a real one or not; and great is your travel accordingly. Our method is different. We never let out more than one dog at a time. The very best of dogs are not improved by emulation, especially at the beginning of the season. They stand upon the honour of their noses; and, rather than not make points, will take up the faintest scent out of sheer jealousy of each other; whereas a single dog knows that he is in a situation of trust, and will not willingly betray you. Contrary to the popular dogma, we prefer a setter to a pointer. The former is a more intelligent and docile animal than the latter, and, if you take proper pains with him, will always understand you better, and accommodate himself accordingly. The only disadvantage of setters is that they require water, and are liable to be much distressed when the moor is particularly dry. Still we give them the preference over the other; and, if you have your dog fully under command, you will kill as many birds over him, with infinitely less fatigue to yourself, as if you were to let out three. Of course you must take care not to let him be overworked; for there are limits to the endurance of every living creature, however willing he may be. A really good dog will not give in readily, for he enjoys the sport as much as you do yourself. And here we would entreat our young friends to beware how they are harsh to their dogs. Be kind to your dog, and he will love you more sincerely and less selfishly than almost any human being. Do not be in a hurry to conclude that he is stupid. Nature has gifted him with a nose in many respects superior to your own; and he is far more likely to be in the right than you are. Some faults there are undoubtedly which you must check, but never with unnecessary harshness. No more hideously brutal picture can be conceived than that of a hulking fellow in fustian, with a flushed face and angry voice, belabouring a prostrate pointer.
Mr Colquhoun has some very sensible observations on the instinct of dogs, which we transcribe for the benefit of those who think that a pointer or a setter can display no sagacity except in the field.
“It is often amusing to hear those who know little about the subject describing the ‘almost reason’ of the St Bernard’s dog, and not unfrequently of the Scotch ‘colley.’ It appears to me that the instinct of these animals is more prominently forced upon their notice, and they do not take the trouble to watch and discover it in the other species. Sagacity is more equally distributed among the different varieties of the dog than such casual observers are aware of; but it, of course, takes different directions, according to the temper, habits, and treatment of the animal. It would be a waste of time so far to control the keen tempers of sporting-dogs (by which I mean setters and pointers) as to make them perform the duties of a well broke phlegmatic retriever. The instinctive power may therefore appear greater in one than the other; but from the quiet, easy temper of the retriever, it is much less difficult to develop and make use of his instinct in that particular way: while the setter and pointer, owing to their more active life and hunting propensities, may often pass unnoticed, even by their masters, though every time they are in the field displaying as much tact as the most cautious retriever. Their sagacity is never thought of; and the only praise they get is that they are ‘excellent dogs;’ which means that they find plenty of game.
“There is another reason why sporting-dogs appear more deficient in sense than some others, and that is their mode of life. Confined always in the kennel unless when seeking game, all their powers are employed to this end. There are, however, abundant proofs that, when made companions, and suffered to occupy a place upon the hearth-rug, they are capable of the same attachment, and would equal in sagacity the much-lauded dogs of St Bernard. Indeed, the usual mode of imprisoning sporting-dogs is so great a disadvantage, that I have seen some, with excellent noses, and every requisite for the moors, grow sulky, and refuse to hunt with their usual freeness, unless left in a great measure to themselves. This, I know, arose partly from a want of proper management, and not keeping the medium between encouraging kindness and merited correction; for too much lenity is nearly as injurious to a dog as over-severity: sulkiness will often be the effect in the one case, shyness in the other. Still, if the dog were allowed to be the companion of his master, he would both acquire sense and tact in half the time, and would not give half the trouble either by shyness or sulkiness; whereas it will generally be found that a kennel-dog is long past his best before he excels in that sagacity on the moor which so greatly assists him in finding game.”
In short, the dog who knows his master, and is familiar with his ways, will always do his work more satisfactorily than the poor beast who has passed the greater number of his days in the monotony of the kennel, and who never has had the advantage of being introduced to human society.
We have not, however, adverted to the points raised by Mr Colquhoun as to taking the moors early. There can be no doubt that he is right, in the advice which he tenders to young sportsmen. Early-rising we believe to be a virtue, though one which we do not practise with sufficient exactitude; and we have heard it stated, on credible authority, that nature looks lovely at sunrise. But for all that, there is no occasion whatever for awakening the echoes by a premature discharge of musketry. Grouse must breakfast like other living creatures, and it is but fair to allow them, on this the day of their annual massacre, the privilege of a matutinal picking. As to your own breakfast, we certainly should not recommend you to victual yourself as if you were stowing away provisions to last you for a couple of days; but, on the other hand, go not forth famished. Mr Colquhoun recommends you to forego the companionship of a flask. We dissent. If the weather is boiling, and if you are not accustomed to violent exercise, you must necessarily drink something; and the safest beverage is water slightly tinctured with spirits. Beer blows you up, and porter makes you sleepy. Cold tea is trash. Of course you will take care not to increase your hereditary thirst by cramming yourself at luncheon with ham, or any of those high-spiced delicacies which Italian warehousemen especially recommend for the moors. Eat anchovies, and in a quarter of an hour after you have resumed your beat, you will find that you had better have tasted of the apples of the Dead Sea. And here we shall remark that the proceedings of the previous evening have often much to do with these distressing symptoms of thirst. Of all days in the year we regard the eleventh of August as that which should be most soberly observed; and we earnestly counsel our young friends, if they have any regard for their own comfort, to resist on that evening the most pressing hospitality which may be offered them by a seasoned Thane. Besides this, young sportsmen are commonly nervous enough on their first field-day, without doing anything additional to make their hand unsteady; and it is well known to authorities, that, whereas the man who begins by shooting well in the morning commonly continues to do so throughout the day, the unfortunate lad who signalises himself by a series of misses at the commencement very rarely regains coolness enough to enable him to do any execution. He becomes flurried and anxious, takes no deliberate aim, fires at any kind of distance, and, not unfrequently, puts the life of Ponto into jeopardy extreme.
Black-cock shooting is a much tamer sport than that afforded by the quest of the grouse. Nevertheless, as an old cock is a handsome bird to look at, and withal heavy, though he makes but an indifferent addition to the table, the young sportsman is usually desirous to bring him to bag. On this subject we have a word or two to say. Great care should be taken not to disturb the young broods before the twentieth of August—indeed, in our opinion, the twentieth of August is quite early enough to begin. The places where black game hatch, and in which the young broods continue until they are well grown, are quite distinct from those frequented by the grouse. You may expect to find the former in tracts of rushy ground, in little glens where the fern grows abundantly, or in low brushwood; whereas the latter are always to be sought for among the heather. Young black game lie so close that it is sometimes easy to take them with the hand just under the nose of the pointer—indeed the pointer is often tempted to break rules, and make a grab at the living simpleton who will not flutter up. At the commencement of the season it is always best to keep the higher ground, so that the dogs may not interfere with the black in their quest for the red game; and afterwards, in every case where the birds are not fully grown, we supplicate for mercy for the maternal grey hen. Indeed, the sportsman will find it to his advantage to give her a reprieve; for young black game are very helpless creatures, and, if deprived of their mother’s superintendence before they are well fledged, are apt to fall victims to some of their natural enemies, who are perpetually on the prowl. As for the old cocks, down with them whenever you can. They are quite able to look after themselves, are exceedingly wary, and, if you happen to find them in the bracken or brushwood, will afford you a charming right and left. Towards the close of the season, stalking blackcock is a very exciting sport. It requires great caution and skill—for our sable acquaintances are knowing strategists, and always appoint a sentinel. Driving blackcock is another method which we have practised with considerable success, both in Argyllshire and on the Border, where this species of game especially abounds; and we can answer for the excellence of the sport. These remarks apply to the circumventing of the old birds—the pursuit of young black game is very tame work. They always rise within easy distance, and fly so steadily that the merest tyro can bring them down; whereas the acuter grouse, after he has been once or twice disturbed, seems to form a very accurate estimate of the nature and purposes of a gun, and endeavours to get out of your way without cultivating a nearer acquaintance.