DISTINGUISHING WHISTLES. "BACKING" THE GUN. RETREAT FROM AND RESUMPTION OF
POINT. RANGE UNACCOMPANIED BY GUN. HEADING RUNNING BIRDS.
A DISTINGUISHING WHISTLE FOR EACH DOG.
271. Though you may have only begun to shoot last season, have you not
often wished to attract the attention of one of your two dogs, and make
him hunt in a particular part of the field, but for fear of alarming the
birds, have been unwilling to call out his name, and have felt loath to
whistle to him, lest you should bring away at the same time the other dog,
who was zealously hunting exactly where you considered him most likely to
find birds?
272. Again: have the dogs never been hunting close together instead of
pursuing distinct beats; and has it not constantly happened, on your
whistling with the view to separate them, that _both_ have turned their
heads in obedience to the whistle, and _both_ on your signal changed the
direction of their beat, but still the _two together_? And have you not,
in despair of ever parting them by merely whistling and signalling, given
the lucky birds--apparently in the most handsome manner, as if scorning to
take any ungenerous advantage--fair notice of the approach of the guns by
shouting out the name of one of the dogs.
273. Or, if one dog was attentive to the whistle, did he not gradually
learn to disregard it from observing that his companion was never chidden
for neglecting to obey it?--and did not such laxity more and more confirm
both in habits of disobedience?
274. I believe several of my readers will be constrained to answer these
questions in the affirmative; and, further, I think their own experience
will remind them of many occasions, both on moor and stubble when birds
were wild, on which they have wished to attract the notice of a particular
dog--perhaps running along a hedge, or pottering over a recent haunt; or
hunting down wind towards marked game--by _whistling_ instead of calling
out his name, but have been unwilling to do so, lest the other dogs should
likewise obey the shrill sound to which all were equally accustomed.
275. Now, in breaking young dogs, you could, by using whistles of
dissimilar calls, easily avoid the liability of these evils; and by
invariably employing a particular whistle for each dog to summon him
separately to his food--29--each would distinguish his own whistle as
surely as every dog knows his own master's whistle, and as hounds learn
their names. Dogs not only know their own names, but instantly know by the
pronunciation when it is uttered by a stranger. To prevent mistakes, each
dog's name might be marked on his own whistle. You might have two
whistles, of very different sound, on one short stock. Indeed, _one_
whistle would be sufficient for two dogs, if you invariably sounded the
same two or three sharp short notes for one dog, and as invariably gave a
sustained note for the other. Nay, the calls could thus be so diversified,
that one whistle might be used for even more than two dogs.
But whatever whistle you choose to employ, be sure, both in and out of the
field, to sound it softly whenever the dog is near you. Indeed, you would
act judiciously to make it a constant rule, wherever he may be, _never to
whistle louder than is really requisite_, otherwise--as I think I before
remarked--he will, comparatively speaking, pay little attention to its
summons, when, being at a distance, he hears it but faintly.
TO BACK THE GUN.
276. In shooting, especially late in the season, you will often mark down
a bird, and feel assured that you stand a better chance of getting a shot
at it if the dogs cease hunting whilst you approach it. You can teach your
dog to do this by holding up your right hand _behind_ you when you mark
down a bird, saying at the same time, "Toho," in an earnest, quiet voice,
and carrying your gun as if you were prepared to shoot. He will soon
begin, I really must say it to _back you_,--for he actually will be
backing you, ludicrous as the expression may sound. After a few times he
will do so on the signal, without your speaking at all; and he will be as
pleased, as excited, and as stanch, as if he were backing an old dog.
Making him "drop" will not effect your object, for, besides that it in no
way increases his intelligence, you may wish him to follow at a respectful
distance, while you are stealing along the banks of some stream, &c. Ere
long he will become as sensible as yourself that any noise would alarm the
birds, and you will soon see him picking his steps to avoid the crisp
leaves, lest their rustling should betray him. I have even heard of a dog
whose admirable caution occasionally led him, when satisfied that his
point was observed, to crawl behind a bush, or some other shelter, to
screen himself from the notice of the birds.
277. The acquisition of this accomplishment--and it is easily taught to a
young dog previously made steady in backing another--it should not be
attempted before--will often secure you a duck, or other wary bird, which
the dog would otherwise, almost to a certainty, spring out of gun-shot. If
you should "toho" a hare, and wish to kill one, you will have an excellent
opportunity of practising this lesson.
278. In America there is a singular duck, called, from its often alighting
on trees, the Wood-duck. I have killed some of these beautiful,
fast-flying birds, while they were seated on logs overhanging the water,
which I could not have approached within gun-shot had the dog not
properly backed the gun when signalled to, and cautiously crept after me,
still remaining far in the rear.
TO RETREAT FROM A POINT AND RESUME IT.
279. Amidst coppices, osiers, or broom--indeed, some times on a rough
moor--you will occasionally lose sight of a dog, and yet be unwilling to
call him, feeling assured that he is somewhere steadily pointing; and
being vexatiously certain that, when he hears your whistle, he will either
leave his point, not subsequently to resume it, or--which is far more
probable--amuse himself by raising the game before he joins you. There are
moments when you would give guineas if he would retreat from his point,
come to you on your whistling, lead you towards the bird, and there resume
his point.
280. This accomplishment--and in many places abroad its value is almost
inappreciable--can be taught him, if he is under great command, by your
occasionally bringing him in to your heel from a point when he is within
sight and near you, and again putting him on his point. You will begin
your instruction in this accomplishment when the dog is pointing quite
close to you. On subsequent occasions, you can gradually increase the
distance, until you arrive at such perfection that you can let him be out
of sight when you call him. When he is first allowed to be out of your
sight, he ought not to be far from you.
281. You may, for a moment, think that what is here recommended
contradicts the axiom laid down in 255; but it is there said, that nothing
ought to make a dog "_voluntarily_" leave his point. Indeed, the
possession of this accomplishment, so far from being productive of any
harm, greatly awakens a dog's intelligence, and makes him perceive, more
clearly than ever, that the sole object for which he is taken to the field
is to obtain shots for the gun that accompanies him. When he is pointing
on your side of a thick hedge, it will make him understand why you call
him off;--take him down wind, and direct him to jump the fence: he will at
once go to the bird, and, on your encouraging him, force it to rise on
your side.
282. You will practise this lesson, however, with great caution, and not
before his education is nearly completed, lest he imagine that you do not
wish him always to remain stanch to his point. Indeed, if you are
precipitate, or injudicious, you may make him blink his game.
283. After a little experience, he will very likely some day
satisfactorily prove his consciousness of your object, by voluntarily
coming out of thick cover to show you where he is, and again going in and
resuming his point.
TO HUNT REGULARLY FROM LEEWARD TO WINDWARD WITHOUT THE GUN.
284. In paragraph 147 I observed, that when you are obliged, as
occasionally must be the case, to enter a field to windward with your
pupil, you ought to go down to the leeward side of it, keeping him close
to your heels, before you commence to hunt. After undeviatingly pursuing
this plan for some time, you can, before you come quite to the bottom of
the field, send him ahead--by the underhand bowler's swing of the
right-hand, IV. of 119,--and, when he has reached the bottom, signal to
him to hunt to the right--or left. He will be so habituated to work under
your eye--130--that you will find it necessary to walk backwards--up the
middle of the field,--while instructing him. As he becomes, by degrees,
confirmed in this lesson, you can sooner and sooner send him ahead--from
your heel--but increase the distances very gradually,--until at length he
will be so far perfected, that you may venture to send him down wind to
the extremity of the field--before he commences beating,--while you remain
quietly at the top awaiting his return, until he shall have hunted the
whole ground, as systematically and carefully as if you had accompanied
him from the bottom. By this method you will teach him, on his gaining
more experience, invariably to run to leeward, and hunt up to
windward--crossing and recrossing the wind--whatever part of a field you
and he may enter. What a glorious consummation! and it can be attained,
but only by great patience and perseverance. The least reflection,
however, will show you that you should not attempt it until the dog is
perfected in his range.
285. A careful dog, thus practised, will seldom spring birds, however
directly he may be running down wind. He will pull up at the faintest
indication of a scent, being at all times anxiously on the look-out for
the coveted aroma.
286. Not only to the idle or tired sportsman would it be a great benefit
to have a field thus beaten, but the keenest and most indefatigable shot
would experience its advantages in the cold and windy weather customary in
November, when the tameness of partridge-shooting cannot be much
complained of; for the birds being then ever ready to take wing, surely
the best chance, by fair means, of getting near them would be to intercept
them between the dog and yourself.
287. Here the consideration naturally arises, whether dogs could not be
_taught_--when hunting in the ordinary manner with the gun in the rear--
TO HEAD RUNNING BIRDS.
Certainly it could be done. There have been many instances of old dogs
_spontaneously_ galloping off, and placing themselves on the other side of
the covey--which they had pointed--as soon as they perceived that it was
on the run,--and by good instruction you could develope or rather excite,
that exercise of sagacity.
288. If dogs are taught to "hunt from leeward to windward without the
gun," they become habituated to seeing game intercepted between themselves
and their masters,--and then their spontaneously heading running
birds--though undeniably evincing great intelligence--would not be very
remarkable. They would but reverse matters by placing themselves to
windward of the birds while the gun was to leeward. This shows that the
acquisition of that accomplishment would be a great step towards securing
a knowledge of the one we are now considering. Indeed there seems to be a
mutual relation between these two refinements in education, for the
possession of either would greatly conduce to the attainment of the other.
289. This accomplishment--and hardly any can be considered more useful--is
not so difficult to teach an intelligent dog as one might at first
imagine; it is but to lift him, and make him act on a larger scale, much
in the manner described in 212 and 296. Like, however, everything else in
canine education--indeed, in all education--it must be effected gradually;
nor should it be commenced before the dog has had a season's steadying,
then practise him in heading every wounded bird, and endeavor to make him
do so at increased distances. Whenever, also, he comes upon the "heel" of
a covey which is to leeward of him--instead of letting him "foot"
it--oblige him to quit the scent and take a circuit--sinking the wind--so
as to place himself to leeward of birds. He will thereby _head the covey_,
and you will have every reason to hope that after a time his own
observation and intellect will show him the advantage of thus intercepting
birds and stopping them when they are on the run, whether the manoeuvre
places him to leeward or to windward of them.
290. If you could succeed in teaching but one of your dogs thus to take a
wide sweep when he is ordered, and head a running covey before it gets to
the extremity of the field--while the other dogs remain near you--you
would be amply rewarded for months of extra trouble in training, by
obtaining shots on days when good sportsmen, with fair average dogs, would
hardly pull a trigger. And why should you not? Success would be next to
certain if you could as readily place your dog exactly where you wish, as
shepherds do their collies. And whose fault will it be if you cannot?
Clearly not your dog's, for he is as capable of receiving instruction as
the shepherd's.
291. Manifestly it would be worth while to take great pains to teach this
accomplishment, for in all countries it would prove a most killing one
when birds become wild; and it would be found particularly useful wherever
the red-legged partridge abounds,--which birds you will find do not lie
badly when the coveys are, by any means, well headed and completely
broken. But there are other accomplishments nearly as useful as those
already detailed; the description of them, however, we will reserve for a
separate Chapter.