519. As my friend was obliged to return home early, he left the lady with me. I had marked some partridges into the leeward side of a large turnip-field. I could not get her to hunt where I wished; I, therefore, no longer noticed her, but endeavoured to walk up the birds without her assistance. After a time she rejoined me, and ranged well and close. I then proceeded to beat the other part of the field—the part she had already hunted contrary to my wishes. Instead of making a cast to the right or left, on she went, directly ahead, for nearly three hundred yards. I was remarking to my attendant that she must be nearly useless to all but her master, when I observed her come to a stiff point. I then felt convinced that I had done her great injustice,—that she must have found and left this covey, whilst I was hunting far to leeward,—and that she had gone forward to resume her point, as soon as my face was turned in the right direction. On my mentioning all this to her owner, he said he had no doubt but that such was the case, as she would often voluntarily leave game to look for him, and again stand at it on perceiving that he watched her movements.
POINT VOLUNTARILY RESUMED.
520. An old Kentish acquaintance of mine, though he is still a young man, has an Irish setter that behaved in a very similar manner. F——r, having severely wounded a hare in cover, put the dog upon the scent. He immediately took it up, but “roaded” so fast as to be soon out of sight. After a fruitless search for the setter, F——r was obliged to whistle two or three times, when he showed himself at the end of a ride, and by his anxious looks and motions seemed to invite his master to come on. This he did. The sagacious beast, after turning two corners, at each of which he stopped until F——r came up, went into cover and resumed the point, which my friend feels satisfied the dog must have left on hearing the whistle, for the wounded hare, whose leg was broken, was squatted within a yard of him. Such instances of a voluntary relinquishment and resumption of a point, must lead us to think that this accomplishment cannot be very difficult to teach dogs who have been accustomed to the gratification of always seeing their game carefully deposited in the bag.
521. In a capital little treatise on field diversions, written by a Suffolk sportsman upwards of seventy years ago, it is recorded that a pointer bitch, belonging to a Doctor Bigsbye, used to give tongue if she found in cover and was not perceived, and that she would repeatedly bark to indicate her locality until she was relieved from her point.
TO RANGE WITHOUT GUN.
TO HUNT REGULARLY FROM LEEWARD TO WINDWARD WITHOUT THE GUN.
522. In paragraph [201] I observed, that when you are obliged, as occasionally must be the case, to enter a field to windward with your pupil, you ought to go down to the leeward side of it, keeping him close to your heels, before you commence to hunt. After undeviatingly pursuing this plan for some time, you can, before you come quite to the bottom of the field, send him ahead (by the underhand bowler’s swing of the right hand, [iv]. of 141), and, when he has reached the bottom, signal to him to hunt to the right (or left). He will be so habituated to work under your eye ([176]) that you will find it necessary to walk backwards (up the middle of the field), while instructing him. As he becomes, by degrees, confirmed in this lesson, you can sooner and sooner send him ahead (from your heel),—but increase the distances very gradually,—until at length he will be so far perfected, that you may venture to send him down wind to the extremity of the field (before he commences beating), while you remain quietly at the top awaiting his return, until he shall have hunted the whole ground, as systematically and carefully as if you had accompanied him from the bottom. By this method you will teach him, on his gaining more experience, invariably to run to leeward, and hunt up to windward (crossing and re-crossing the wind) whatever part of a field you and he may enter. What a glorious consummation! and it can be attained, but only by great patience and perseverance. The least reflection, however, will show you that you should not attempt it until the dog is perfected in his range.
523. A careful dog, thus practised, will seldom spring birds, however directly he may be running down wind. He will pull up at the faintest indication of a scent, being at all times anxiously on the look-out for the coveted aroma.