182. I was partridge-shooting the season before last with an intimate friend. The air was soft and there was a good breeze. We came upon a large turnip-field, deeply trenched on account of its damp situation. A white setter, that habitually carried a lofty head, drew for awhile, and then came to a point. We got up to her. She led us across some ridges, when her companion, a jealous dog (a pointer), which had at first backed correctly, most improperly pushed on in front, but, not being able to acknowledge the scent, went off, clearly imagining the bitch was in error. She, however, held on, and in beautiful style brought us direct to a covey. My friend and I agreed that she must have been but little, if at all, less than one hundred yards off when she first winded the birds; and it was clear to us that they could not have been running, for the breeze came directly across the furrows, and she had led us in the wind’s eye. We thought the point the more remarkable, as it is generally supposed that the strong smell of turnips diminishes a dog’s power of scenting birds.
SCENT ONE HUNDRED YARDS.
183. R——t T——n, a gamekeeper, once assured me he had seen a point at grouse which were at the least one hundred and fifty yards off. The dogs were on the edge of a valley—the pack on a little hillock from which direction the wind blew—an intervening wall near the top of the hillock separated them from the dogs; and as intermediately there was no heather, the man was satisfied that the birds had not run over the ground. When I was talking one day to Mr. L——g, the well-known gunmaker in the Haymarket, about the qualities of dogs’ noses,—and from his long experience he ought to be a judge of such matters,—he told me, before I had said a word respecting distances, that he thought he had seen more than once a dog point at one hundred and fifty yards from his game.
184. If you design your pupil, when broken in, to hunt with a companion, and wish both the dogs, as is usual, to cross you, you will, of course, habituate him to make his sweeps (the space between the parallels) wider than if you had intended him to hunt without any one to share his labours.
185. I need hardly warn you to be careful not to interrupt him whenever he appears to be winding birds. However good his nose may be by nature, it will not gain experience and discrimination, unless you give him a certain time to determine for himself whether he has really touched upon a faint scent of birds, and whether they are in his front or rear, or gone away altogether. Like every other faculty, his sense of smell will improve the more it is exercised. But on the other hand, as I observed before, do not let him continue puzzling with his nose close to the ground,—urge him on,—make him increase his pace,—force him to search elsewhere, and he will gradually elevate his head, and catching the scent of other particles, will follow up these with a nose borne aloft, unless he is a brute not worth a twentieth part of the pains which you think of bestowing upon him; for,
186. Besides the greatly decreased chance of finding them, birds that to a certainty would become uneasy, and make off if pursued by a dog tracking them, will often lie well to one who finds them by the wind. They are then not aware that they are discovered, and the dog, from the information his nose gives him, can approach them either boldly or with great wariness, according as he perceives them to be more or less shy.
FIND BY WIND.—WHITE DOGS.
187. It is rather foreign to our immediate subject, but I will here observe, that it is generally thought white dogs cannot approach shy birds[28] as closely as dogs of a dark colour can ([93]); but there is a set-off to this supposed disadvantage in your being able to distinguish the light ones more readily at a distance,—a matter of some moment on heather. If you have not your eye on a steady brown setter at the moment he drops on grouse, you may spend half an hour most vexatiously in searching for him. When you expect to find the birds wild, should your kennel allow you the choice, you ought to take out those of a sombre hue. Light coloured dogs have not generally such well-shaped feet as their darker brethren. It is curious that white feet in dogs as well as in horses should often be objectionable. As a rule, setters have harder, tougher feet than pointers. This is very apparent in a flinty country or in frosty weather, and is partly attributable to their being better defended with hair round the ball, and between the toes.
188. If, being unable to catch the dog’s eye, you are forced to use the whistle frequently, and he continues inattentive to it, notwithstanding his previous tuition, stand still,—make him lie down (by the word “drop,” if he will not obey your raised left arm)—go up to him,—take hold of his collar, and rate him, saying, “Bad, bad,” cracking your whip over him (let the whip be one that will crack loudly, not for present purposes, but that, when occasion requires, he may hear it at a distance) and whistling softly. This will show him (should you beat him, you would confuse his ideas) that he is chidden for not paying attention to the whistle. Indeed, whenever you have occasion to scold or punish him, make it a constant rule, while you rate him, to repeat many times the word of command, or the signal which he has neglected to obey. There is no other way by which you will make him understand you quickly.