317. Perhaps you will say, “You tell me to fire at a running bird, but when a winged cock-pheasant or red-legged partridge is racing off out of shot, how am I to get it, if I proceed in the slow, methodical manner you advise? May it not lead me an unsuccessful dance for an hour, if I do not allow the dog to start ahead and seize?” It may, (but I hope months will pass before you witness such agility); and this shows that those who do not employ a retriever, and yet are sticklers for a setter’s (or pointer’s) never being permitted to touch a feather, must on such occasions get into a dilemma; and, unless they are willing to lose the bird, must plead guilty to the inconsistency of being pleased—however loudly they may roar out “Toho,” “ware dead,”—when they see their dog, in defiance of all such calls, disable it by a sudden grip. This plan, though frequently followed, cannot be correct. They blame the dog for doing what they really wish, and if he be too tender-mouthed to injure the bird, he keeps them at top speed, while he is alternately picking up the unfortunate creature, acting on his natural impulses,—and letting it fall on being rated. I therefore repeat, that even if you do not wish your dog constantly to retrieve ([536]), you would still act judiciously in teaching him as a puppy to fetch ([96]), for then he will give chase to the winged bird, and bring it to you on getting the order, instead of permitting it to escape for a fresh burst, or carrying it off, as I have seen done. You thus maintain discipline. The dog will do what you wish, in obedience to orders,—not in opposition to orders. The sticklers for dogs never being allowed to nose a feather, ought, unless they are willing to give up slightly winged birds, not to shrink from the difficult task of teaching their pupils to stop and retain with their paws ([319]).
PERSEVERANCE INSTANCED.
318. The pertinacity with which some dogs will “seek dead” is really surprising. A relative of mine had an English pointer which was so devoted to hunting for “knocked-down” birds, that she was almost unequalled in “finding,” though in other respects possessed of very ordinary qualifications. If she failed in soon winding the lost bird, she would of her own accord make a large circuit; and if still unsuccessful, she would indefatigably traverse the field from leeward until some slight taint in the atmosphere intimated to her in what direction to continue the search. When he afterwards hunted her in Ireland, though he could not get her to point snipe, yet if he killed one, she would exert herself to the utmost to retrieve it. Her keenness probably in part arose from her having, as a young one, always been indulged with a good “touseling” of the game before it was picked up. She never wished to grip.
BIRD HELD BY PAW.
319. A gentleman who was my neighbour a few seasons ago, has a very old setter, which was also capital at “finding.” “Don” used to lay his paw upon the wounded bird, which, I fancy, afforded him such gratification that he would zealously devote every faculty he possessed to secure the prize. You could not teach every dog this method of detaining a bird. If yours is one of a very docile disposition you may effect it by always placing the dead or wounded bird for a minute or two under his paw before you deposit it in the bag.
320. An officer of the Navy, Mr. W——b, of Southsea, once possessed a true Blenheim—naturally a tender breed—that, from having been injudiciously thrown into the water when young (see [104]), had taken such a dislike to the element, that although she was extremely attached to her master, and always anxious to be with him, especially when he shouldered his gun, yet the moment she saw him appear with a towel in hand (feeling assured he purposed bathing), she would bolt off, and allow nothing to persuade her to accompany him. Now, great as was her abhorrence of a cold bath, yet her gratification in retrieving so far outweighed every other feeling, that for the moment it overcame her aversion to a plunge, and whenever Mr. W——b shot a duck she would dash in to bring it on shore. She would carefully deposit it at the edge of the bank, but not carry it a step further. “Rose” had secured it, and that was the extent of her wishes.
321. We have only spoken of instances [266], [307], [309], in which all has gone on smoothly, the dog most obediently dropping to shot and permitting you to take up the bird notwithstanding the poor creature’s death-struggles. Suppose, however, and this may probably happen, that he does not restrain himself at the “down charge,” but, in spite of all your calls and signals, rushes forward, yet yields to your menaces and halts in mid-career. It is well—your course is clear; you have to lug him back, and threaten, and lecture him. But should he not check himself until he sniffs the game, his stop then becomes a “point;” and if he is of a timid disposition, or has ever evinced any disposition to blink, you dare not force him to retrace his steps, lest he should mistake your motives, and fancy himself encouraged to abandon his point. If you merely make him “down charge,” you violate the axiom named in [359]. In short, you are in a difficulty. It is a nice case, in which your own judgment of the dog’s character can alone decide you.
BIRD SEIZED.
322. But, if from inadequate initiatory instruction—for I will maintain that such marked rebellion can arise from no other cause—in the excitement of the moment he actually rushes in and seizes the bird, he must be punished, I am sorry to say it; but however much we may deplore it, he must; for he has been guilty of great disobedience, and he well knows that he has been disobedient. But the temptation was strong, perhaps too strong for canine nature,—that is to say, for canine nature not early taught obedience. The wounded bird was fluttering within sight and hearing:—it was, too, the first he had ever seen,—and this is almost his first glaring act of disobedience: be merciful, though firm. Make him “drop.” Get up to him at once. Probably he will relinquish his grip of the bird; if not, make him give it up to you, but do not pull it from him: that would only increase the temptation to tear it. Lay it on the ground. Then drag him back to the spot from which he rushed; there make him lie down. Rate him. Call out “Toho.” [61] Crack the whip over him—and, I am pained to add, make use of it—but moderately, not severely. Three or four cuts will be enough, provided he has not torn the bird; if he has, his chastisement must be greater. Let him now have one nibble without punishment, and soon a whole carcass will not suffice for his morning’s meal. Do not strike him across the body, but lengthwise.
PUNISHMENT HOW ADMINISTERED.