[73] In the remaining odd case (one out of a hundred) the propensity may be traced to the animal belonging to a vicious stock,—in short, to hereditary instinct.
[74] Mr. C. B——y, who has written so cleverly and usefully under the name of “Harry Hieover,” supports (in “Practical Horsemanship”) an argument respecting the breaking of horses, by describing with such good judgment the manner in which he would proceed to gradually wean a dog from worrying sheep (much on the principle of taking him to a rabbit-warren, [337]), that I think some of my readers may peruse it with profit:—
“I suppose myself to have a dog addicted to chasing sheep. He must be cured of that. If I depute a servant to do this, I know how he will set about it. He will take the dog on a common, where sheep are running at large. The moment they see the dog they begin running. This is just what the man wished they might do. The dog, of course, immediately sets off after them, and the man after the dog. Probably after the latter has ceased chasing, he is caught; and at a moment when he is not in fault he is most brutally thrashed, knowing or not knowing what he is thrashed for. He is cowed for the day, and sore for three or four afterwards, when he forgets the beating; and the next time he sees the sheep, he feels the same excitement and propensity, and away he goes after them; so probably it would be as long as he lives.
“I now take the dog in hand, and as sedulously avoid taking him where he has a chance of seeing sheep running, as the other sought for a place where he should; for I know, with his present habits, the temptation will be too strong for the dog to resist. I put a collar round his neck, with a chain to hold him by, and a good dog-whip in my hand. I take him to a sheep-fold: here the sheep cannot run: and not being wild, the utmost they can do on seeing the dog is to huddle all together. On entering the fold I cry in a warning voice, ‘Ware sheep, Don.’ The dog looks up. ‘Ware sheep,’ I cry again. If he appears in the least elated or fidgety, ‘Ware sheep,’ I cry in a voice of anger. If he attempt to make any hasty advance towards them, a smart stroke or two of the whip makes him find ‘Ware sheep’ must be attended to. If after this he pulls towards, or jumps at them, I give him a good flogging, he deserves it, for he knows he is doing wrong, and has not over-excitement as an excuse. In a day or two, more or less, as he is more or less incorrigible, he will cease not only to jump at the sheep, but will walk quietly among them. He has learned perfectly one lesson, which is, that he must not touch sheep standing still. Probably, being now cowed by the warning ‘Ware sheep,’ if I took him on the common, he would, if he saw sheep running, stop at being halloed to (if not too far off); but it would be highly injudicious to trust him, for if he broke away, my three or four days’ lesson would go for nothing:—he would be nearly as bad as ever.
“I now take him where sheep are wild, but never get near enough to set them running. But suppose they were to do so, I am prepared, for I have him in a cord some twenty yards long. This length gives him something of a feeling of liberty. If he looks towards the flock, ‘Ware sheep’ reminds him of his lessons. In a day or two I approach them; they begin to run: Don gets fidgety, but the warning and showing him the whip most probably controls him; if it does not, and he breaks away, I let him reach the end of the cord, and with a stentorian ‘Ware sheep,’ I pull him head over heels, haul him up, and getting hold of him, give him a second thrashing—a lesson or two more, and he, in nine cases in ten, will be broken of the habit. But if without the cord to check him he had got in full career, flaying the poor brute alive would not have prevented his doing it again; but his propensity having been diminished gradually, moderate reflection will reform him, which it would not have done while that propensity was in full force.”—Page [171].
[75] A muzzle is the best recipe for keeping a howling dog quiet at night—from what is commonly called “baying the moon.” It should invariably be employed whenever any ointment is applied to his skin for mange, &c.
[76] A dark day with a good breeze would be preferred with us.
[77] But there is this to be said in favour of your perpetually shooting in wind and wet:—you will be acting a most friendly part by your less persecuting neighbour, for under the twofold annoyance of the gun and such weather, the birds will fly to great distances to seek for quiet shelter.
[78] This note about rearing pheasants, &c., is so long that the printer has placed it in an Appendix. See page [335].
[79] Neeps, anglicè turnips.