RANGE EASIEST TAUGHT ON MOORS.
192. To establish the rare, noble beat I am recommending,—one not hereafter to be deranged by the temptation of a furrow in turnips or potatoes,—you must have the philosophy not to hunt your dog in them until he is accustomed in his range to be guided entirely by the wind and your signals, and is in no way influenced by the nature of the ground. Even then it would be better not to beat narrow strips across which it would be impossible for him to make his regular casts. Avoid, too, for some time, if you can, all small fields (which will only contract his range), and all fields with trenches or furrows, for he will but too naturally follow them instead of paying attention to his true beat. Have you never, in low lands, seen a young dog running down a potato or turnip trench, out of which his master, after much labour, had no sooner extracted him than he dropped into the adjacent one? It is the absence of artificial tracks which makes the range of nearly all dogs well broken on the moors so much truer than that of dogs hunted on cultivated lands.
193. Moreover, in turnips, potatoes, clover, and the like thick shelter, birds will generally permit a dog to approach so closely, that if he is much accustomed to hunt such places, he will be sure to acquire the evil habit of pressing too near his game when finding on the stubbles (instead of being startled as it were into an instantaneous stop the moment he first winds game), and thus raise many a bird out of gun-shot that a cautious dog,—one who slackens his pace the instant he judges that he is beating a likely spot,—would not have alarmed.
SEARCHING NOSE.
194. “A cautious dog”! Can there well be a more flattering epithet?[29] Such a dog can hardly travel too fast[30] in a tolerably open country, where there is not a superabundance of game, if he really hunt with an inquiring nose;—but to his master what an all-important “if” is this! It marks the difference between the sagacious, wary, patient, yet diligent animal, whose every sense and every faculty is absorbed in his endeavour to make out birds, not for himself but for the gun, and the wild harum-scarum who blunders up three-fourths of the birds he finds. No! not finds, but frightens,—for he is not aware of their presence until they are on the wing, and seldom points unless he gets some heedless bird right under his nose, when an ignoramus, in admiration of the beauty of the dog’s sudden attitude, will often forget the mischief which he has done.
195. Nature gives this caution to some dogs at an early age. A clergyman of my acquaintance, Mr. G. M——t, a keen sportsman in his younger days, told me that when he was partridge-shooting once in Essex, a favourite pointer of his, that was ranging at a rapid pace alongside a thick hedge, coming suddenly upon an opening where there should have been a gate, instantly wheeled round and ran to heel, and then commenced carefully advancing with a stiffened stern towards the gap; and so led his master up to live birds which were lying close to it, but on the further side. Evidently the cautious dog,—for he was no blinker,—on so unexpectedly finding himself in such close vicinity to the covey, must have fancied that his presence would alarm them, however motionless he might remain.
196. Though you cannot improve a dog’s nose, you can do what is really tantamount to it—you can increase his caution. By watching for the slightest token of his feathering, and then calling out “Toho,” or making the signal, you will gradually teach him to look out for the faintest indication of a scent, and point the instant he winds it, instead of heedlessly hunting on until he meets a more exciting effluvia. (See [259] to [261], also [329].) If from a want of animation in his manner you are not able to judge of the moment when he first winds game, and therefore are unable to call out “Toho” until he gets close to birds, quietly pull him back from his point “dead to leeward” for some paces, and there make him resume his point. Perseverance in this plan will ultimately effect your wishes, unless his nose be radically wrong. A dog’s pointing too near his game more frequently arises from want of caution,—in other words, from want of good instruction,—than from a defective nose.
CAUTION TAUGHT.
197. Slow dogs readily acquire this caution; but fast dogs cannot be taught it without great labour. You have to show them the necessity of diminishing their pace, that their noses may have fair play. If you have such a pupil to instruct, when you get near birds you have marked down, signal to him to come to “heel.” Whisper to him “Care,” and let him see by your light, slow tread your anxiety not to alarm the game. If he has never shown any symptoms of blinking, you may, a few times, thus spring the birds yourself while you keep him close to you. On the next occasion of marking down birds, or coming to a very likely spot, bring him into “heel,” and after an impressive injunction to take “care,” give him two or three very limited casts to the right or left, and let him find the game while you instruct him as described in [329]. As there will be no fear of such a dog making false points, take him often to the fields where he has most frequently met birds. The expectation of again coming on them, and the recollection of the lectures he there received, will be likely to make him cautious on entering it. I remember a particular spot in a certain field that early in the season constantly held birds. A young dog I then possessed never approached it afterwards without drawing upon it most carefully, though he had not found there for months. At first I had some difficulty in preventing the “draw” from becoming a “point.”
198. I have elsewhere observed that fast dogs, which give most trouble in breaking, usually turn out best. Now if you think for a moment you will see the reason plainly. A young dog does not ultimately become first-rate because he is wild and headstrong, and regardless of orders, but because his speed and disobedience arise from his great energies,—from his fondness for the sport; from his longing to inhale the exhilarating scent and pursue the flying game. It is the possession of these qualities that makes him, in his anxious state of excitement, blind to your signals and deaf to your calls. These obviously are qualities that, under good management,[31] lead to great excellence and superiority,—that make one dog do the work of two. But they are not qualities sought for by an idle or incompetent breaker. He would prefer the kind of dog mentioned in [280], and boast much of the ability he had displayed in training him. These valuable qualities in the fast dog, must, however, be accompanied by a searching nose. It is not enough that a dog be always apparently hunting, that is to say, always on the gallop—his nose should always be hunting. When this is the case (and you may be pretty certain it is if, as he crosses the breeze, his nose has intuitively a bearing to windward), you need not fear that he will travel too fast, or not repay you ultimately for the great extra trouble caused by his high spirits and ardour for the sport.