DOG FETCHING BIRD.
96. Though you may not wish your young pointer (or setter) to perform the duties of a regular retriever, ([536]) still you would do well to teach him, whilst he is a puppy, to fetch and deliver into your hand anything soft you may occasionally throw for him, or leave behind you in some place where he will have observed you deposit it, while he is following at your heels. In a little time you can drop something without letting him see you, and afterwards send him back for it. A dog thus made, who is your intimate companion, becomes so conversant with every article of your apparel, and with whatever you usually carry about you, that, should you accidentally drop anything, the observant animal will be almost certain to recover it. On receiving your order to be “off and find” he will accurately retrace your footsteps for miles and miles, diligently hunting every yard of the ground. Of course, the distances to which you at first send your dog will be inconsiderable, and you should carefully avoid persevering too long at a time, lest he get sick of the lesson. Indeed, in all his lessons,—as well in-doors as out,—but particularly in this, let it be your aim to leave off at a moment when he has performed entirely to your satisfaction; that you may part the best of friends, and that the last impression made by the lesson may be pleasing as well as correct, from a grateful recollection of the caresses which he has received. In wild-duck shooting you may be in situations where you would be very glad if the dog would bring your bird; and when it is an active runner in cover, I fear you will be more anxious than I could wish ([322]) that the dog should “fetch.” It is probable that he will thus assist you if he be practised as I have just advised; and such instruction may lead, years hence, to his occasionally bringing you some dead bird which he may come across, and which you otherwise might have imagined you had missed, for its scent might be too cold, and consequently too changed, for the dog to have thought of regularly pointing it.
97. When I was a boy, I recollect seeing such an instance in Kent. As a great treat, I was permitted (but merely as a spectator) to accompany a first-rate shot, Mr. C——h, who was trying a gun he thought of purchasing for his keeper. The dogs soon came upon a covey. He killed with his first barrel, but apparently missed with his second. He found fault with the gun for not shooting strongly; and I well remember impertinently fancying,—but I dared not say so,—that perhaps he was as much to blame as the gun. Soon afterwards, to our mutual surprise, we saw one of the dogs trotting up with a bird, still warm, in its mouth; thus tacitly reproving me for not having done justice to Mr. C——h’s unerring eye and steady hand.
DELIVER INTO HAND.
98. Mark my having said, “deliver into your hand,” that your young dog may not be satisfied with only dropping, within your sight, any bird he may lift, and so, perhaps, leave it on the other side of a trout stream, as I have seen dogs do more than once, in spite of every persuasion and entreaty. With a young dog, who retrieves, never pick up a bird yourself, however close it may fall to you. Invariably, make him either deliver it into your hand or lay it at your feet. The former is by far the better plan. If the dog has at one moment to drop the bird at your will, he is likely to fancy himself privileged to drop it at another time for his own convenience. In other respects, too, the former is the safest method. I have a bitch now in my recollection, who frequently lost her master slightly winged birds, (which she had admirably recovered) by dropping them too soon on hearing the report of a gun, or coming on other game,—for off they ran, and fairly escaped, it being impracticable, by any encouragement, to induce her to seek for a bird she had once lifted.
99. This error, I mean that of allowing a wounded bird to regain its liberty, was once beautifully avoided by a pretty black retriever, belonging to Colonel T——y, a good sportsman and pleasant companion, who, not long since, told me the circumstance; and I am glad to be able, on such authority, to relate an anecdote evincing so much reflection and judgment, for I know not by what other terms to characterise the dog’s sagacity.
COLONEL T——Y’S VENUS.—FAN.
100. Colonel T——y’s avocations constantly take him from his neat bachelor’s cottage in Kent, to travel abroad. Shooting in Hungary he once knocked down two partridges at a shot,—one was killed outright, the other only slightly wounded. “Venus” soon hit off the trail of the latter,—quickly overtook it, and, while carrying it to her master, came upon the dead bird. She stopped, evidently greatly puzzled; and, after one or two trials, finding she could not take it up without permitting the escape of the winged bird, she considered a moment,—then, deliberately murdered it, by giving it a severe crunch, and afterwards brought away both together. It is due to the lady to observe that she is naturally as tender-mouthed as her name would imply her to be tender-hearted, and that this is the only known instance of her ever having wilfully injured any game.
101. Sometimes a dog’s sagacity will induce him, however little taught, to assist you in your hour of need; but you must not trust to this. An intimate friend of mine, shooting in Ireland to a pointer bitch that was totally unaccustomed to fetch and carry, but well instructed to seek for a dead bird, killed a snipe. It fell in soft, boggy ground, where he could not get at it to pick it up. After some vain efforts to approach it, he hied on the bitch, who was still steadily “pointing dead,” with “Fetch it, Fan; fetch it.” The bitch seemed for a moment puzzled at such an unusual proceeding, and looked round, inquisitively, once or twice, as if to say, “What can you mean?” Suddenly, my friend’s dilemma seemed to flash upon her. She walked on, took the bird, quite gently, in her mouth, and carried it to where the ground was firm; but not one inch further would she bring it, despite all the encouragement of her master, who now wished to make her constantly retrieve. This was the first and last bird she ever lifted.
102. “Dove,” a white setter, belonging to a near relation of mine, (the left-hand dog in the engraving illustrating [540], is considered extremely like her,) did, spontaneously, that which “Fan” only consented to do after much entreaty. My relation, shooting on the banks of the Forth, killed a partridge that was flying across the river. As he had no retriever with him he almost regretted having fired; but, to his surprise, “Dove” volunteered jumping into the water; made her way to the bird with a sort of steamboat paddle action,—for I verily believe it was the first time she had attempted to swim,—seized it, and, returning with it to the shore, deposited it safely on the bank. She never had retrieved before, and is not particularly good at “seeking dead.”