There are several methods by which the badger can be taken alive, or
killed, with ease. I am familiar with several successful ways of
trapping him. The reader, if he is not aware of these, must not expect
me to enlighten him, as my object in writing is to arouse an interest in
his preservation, not to facilitate his destruction. It may be as well
to state, however, that the inhuman engine, the steel trap (by which so
many of the birds and beasts that frequented the wild woods of England
and Scotland have been exterminated) is an instrument that arouses the
suspicion of a badger at once, and he is as clever in avoiding it as an
old-fashioned rat. The badger if caught in a steel trap will frequently
bite his leg or foot clean off. In my opinion there are two legitimate
methods of hunting the badger. First, that of a straight-forward attack
on his fortress; and should it be an old-established earth, it may be
the end of the longest day will not see the battle ended. There are, of
course, the fortunes of war--a lucky engagement, a wrong turn on the
part of the defender, a successful trench quickly cutting off his
retreat--which may deliver him unexpectedly into your hands; or the
enemy may outwit you altogether, conducting a masterful retreat, with
gallant sorties on the dogs, and by continually changing his front drive
you to abandon works, trenches, and operations that have cost great
labour and time; thus you may be left with a tired and wounded pack of
terriers, exhausted sappers, and the badger, having blocked and
barricaded his retreat with soil, stones, and sand, is lost. The war
thus made is an equal one: you attack him on his own ground in his
fortress where he is acquainted with every passage, gallery, and
casement; he is armed to the teeth and armour-plated, and can drive a
road forward, downward, or upward with extraordinary rapidity. It is
true you may have many terriers, but he has an advantage over your
forces. Only one of your dogs can engage at a time, and the badger has
the advantage of weight, size, knowledge of the ground, and familiarity
with the dark--in fact, in every respect except those of courage and
endurance, which in some terriers may equal his own. The other method,
less sure, depends on taking the badger off his guard, and is more in
the character of an ambuscade under cover of night. When the badgers are
away from home you block up their earths, placing sacks with running
nooses in the mouth, in the most frequented holes. Station one of your
party near the "set," and you may either take a small pack of hounds and
draw the country for a few miles round, and hunt him like a fox, getting
a run across country and a fine cry; or you may beat the neighbouring
coverts with men and dogs of any description that are trained to hunt
the badger.
In the following, taken from an article which appeared in a newspaper,
there is a good account of night hunting.
"Owing to his shy and retiring habits, rather than to the scarcity of
the animal, probably less is known about the badger than about any wild
animal left in England at the present time. There is a prevalent notion
that the badger is exceedingly rare, and also that he is harmless;
neither of these ideas is quite correct. In the west especially the
badger is fairly common, but escapes notice owing to his retiring
disposition. Whether he does harm to feathered game or not is a moot
point, but his tracks have been distinctly noticed round plundered
nests; it is certain, however, that he does great damage to ground game
by digging out 'stops' of young rabbits in the spring and summer.
"When hunted after the fashion generally adopted in the west, he affords
excellent sport to those who are prepared to face a long tramp and the
loss of some of their night's rest. The prosaic way of digging them out
of the earth involves much labour, and has in it no element of sport;
while attempting to catch badgers in traps is about as feasible as
trying to catch birds by putting salt on their tails. Driving them into
sacks fixed in the earth is unsatisfactory, as a good game dog is
necessary to press the badger hard, or he will turn from the earth and
seek shelter elsewhere; while, if you have a good dog, the sacks are
unnecessary except for the reception of the badger when caught by the
dog.
"The paraphernalia of the chase are simple, namely, a good dog, a pair
of badger-tongs, and a sack. A really good dog is very difficult to
obtain; the favourite kind is a cross-bred bull-terrier, about forty
pounds in weight; pure-bred bull-terriers, for some reason or other, do
not seem to give satisfaction. The 'tongs' have wooden handles, and iron
heads with blunt teeth for grasping the badger when held by the dog. For
a successful hunt it is necessary to observe which way the badger
travels from the earth. A favourite spot is the slope of a hill, or
high-lying fields, where they may be easily tracked by the 'roots,'
_i.e._ small holes which they scratch in the ground in search of
beetles and roots of various kinds. They rarely descend into low-lying
meadows, except to drink. Choose a starlight night with a slight breeze
blowing, and approach the earth up the wind. Do not hurry your dog; if
he knows his work, he will range freely, but he often takes a long time
to puzzle out the track. If you miss him, go on slowly in the direction
in which you last saw him, often stopping to listen.
"'What was that?' The dry sticks crack in a hedge far below you. 'Hark!
two sharp eager barks; what does it mean?' Why, that Grip is wheeling
out in a half-circle to gain slightly on the badger, and then to dash in
and get him by the head. Run now as you never ran before. Head over
heels into a ditch; never mind, up and on again--the best dog can't hold
a badger for ever. There they are out in the open, Grip with a tight
hold of the badger by the side of the head, with his legs tucked back
out of harm's way. Grasp him with the tongs as near the neck as
possible. Take off the dog, some one. Hold the bag. Hoist our
grey-coated friend into the air, and lower him into the sack; he weighs
at least thirty pounds. The dog is hardly marked, and you haven't torn
more than three rents in your nether garments getting through that last
thorn hedge. Altogether, every one agrees that it was a satisfactory
little run.
"The old English sheep-dog I have known do well for the other method.
The badger when pursued makes straight for home, blunders headlong into
the hole, only to find that his efforts to get in are closing the mouth
of the sack, that retreat or fighting are alike in vain, and that he is
an imprisoned bagman, without having struck a blow in self-defence. It
is not uncommon for a badger thus pursued to stand at bay, when a good
dog may keep him in play, or hold on, till you come up and secure him.
No doubt there is amusement and excitement in this moonlight chase, and
to some it is preferable to the arduous labour with pick, spade, axe,
and terrier."
To my mind, however, there is something more interesting and exciting in
the long-sustained conflict and labour of the latter, for which you
require perseverance, wit, patience, and courage on the part of man and
terrier. The courage and endurance that a good terrier will display when
need requires before such a foe, will fill his owner's heart with joy
and pride. A good terrier is a veritable treasure; the price of a sure,
game, and determined one is far above rubies. Picture what it means for
a small terrier to enter into the bowels of the earth to find, to cope
with, and for long hours in dust and darkness in the tortuous maze to
keep up an unequal fight with an enormously superior foe, whose grunts
and clattering teeth add terror to his charges down the echoing ways.
Yet I have had not a few that, hour after hour, on their backs or their
sides, would lie up to a badger, keeping him cornered, and continuously
give tongue with no voice to direct them. Should the badger charge, such
a terrier would rather die than let him leave the corner to which he has
been driven, and will return fighting and facing his huge opponent,
driving him inch by inch into the _cul de sac_, caring neither for bite
nor wounds, and making noise enough to let you know where the battle
rages. It is no part of his duty to tackle the badger. A good terrier
knows this, and will only resort to his teeth should the badger attempt
to force a passage. If it comes to close quarters, such a terrier will
draw back his fore-legs under his body, take the attack full in the
face, and trust to seizing the badger by the neck. A badger when
attacked generally bites upwards, _i. e._ he lowers his head and turns
the back of his head downwards. Nothing makes the heart beat faster
than, with head to the earth, to hear the din of this subterranean
warfare carried along the dark galleries to the day. You have sent in
one of your best terriers; he has tried by cajolery and caresses, by
cries, by straining at his chain to be allowed the honourable
distinction of first blood. You have dispatched him with your blessing,
and he has quickly and silently started on his journey into the unknown.
You listen to him forcing his passage, drawing himself round corners,
scratching away some accumulation or fall from the roof, and hear his
eager panting as he winds his foe. Presently you hear a low sharp bark,
then another, then two or three more, next a bumping, thumping noise; it
is the badger, who has waited to see who the intruder is, and, rousing
himself, is retreating. The terrier barks no more, but you can hear the
thump-thump of the badger, followed by the efforts of the dog to keep up
with him. They are now a long way in, and you can plainly hear the bark
again. Soon the fight draws nearer, and the terrier's cry comes to your
ear with regularity and clearness; but the badger is only disputing the
way, he has not yet been driven with his back against the wall. The
terrier redoubles his activity, you can hear him feinting at the badger,
sharp give-and-take, but no foolish attempt to lay hold. After ten
minutes the badger again retreats, probably up the hill, and you have to
listen on the surface or at the higher holes of the set till you can
hear them again. At last you catch a faint sound, they are still moving,
now stationary, now further on; then they seem to stay in one place.
There is the steady yap-yap-yap of the dog just distinguishable to the
ear.
Quick, every hand to work. A trench six feet deep, or deeper if
necessary, must be cut across the set to cut off the badger from the
passages. With pick, spade, and shovel the work goes on, while some one
listens to know whether the scene of battle moves. If it does, the
badger may have found a side gallery, and gone far enough, or he may
have charged the dog. He may have passed by a different road beneath
your feet in the trench; but if the terrier has succeeded in keeping him
face to face and engaged, yet not driving him so hard as to make him
charge, you may be successful in an hour or two, and find that your
cutting intersects the passage in which the badger and the terrier are
engaged. If the badger suspects you are cutting off his only means of
escape he will charge and fight, and the terrier will sometimes be
unable to back fast enough; then there will be a meeting of teeth and
jaws, the badger holding the dog through the head, jaw, or nose. The
dog's smothered cries of anger and pain make you strain every nerve to
get to his relief.
When the badger at last leaves go, the terrier's turn comes, and now
with blood up he drives back the badger to his end of the hole with
every determination to keep him there. After two or three turns like
this, if the dog has been in an hour or two, he will probably come out
for a breath of air for a moment. He should be immediately taken,
fastened up, watered, and kept in reserve for future contingencies, and
the best terrier for sticking up be sent in with the utmost haste. If a
minute has been spent in doing this, every moment will have been used by
the badger in barricading the passage against the dog and burying
himself. This once accomplished, you may as well whistle for your badger
as continue digging, for he may have got down into some other gallery,
or have buried himself so that neither dog nor man can find him. Of one
thing you may be sure, that whilst you are speculating what has become
of him, he is digging at a prodigious rate, or has already made his
escape by some secret stair.
If, however, you are quick, terrier number two has interrupted master
badger as he is at work and lets you know. "It's all right," "Come on,"
"He's here," "I've got him," "He's got me," "You beast," "Get back,"
"I'll hold him," and spade and shovel and pick are hard at work again.
Backs and arms are aching with lifting at high pressure out of the deep
trench. You dig on, blocking the hole as the roof falls in, but every
now and then the shovels clear it for a moment to give the dog air. And
now the game has shown itself. A terrible charge down the hole sends out
the terrier; and the badger, seeing the men at work, backs again,
followed by the dog. Now all is excitement. Every snap, haunch, grunt,
groan, and yell in the fight is heard. A favourite's life in the
balance! The prize in view! The other terriers are tugging at their
chains, frantic to join the fray, yelling fit to split their throats. It
is maddening for them to see the dust and commotion in the trench, to
hear the sound of battle so near, to wind the enemy, to hear the cry of
their fighting and perhaps wounded companion, and not to be allowed to
share in the glory of the final action. Now is the time if you have a
terrier to enter to see what he is made of, but there is no time to
waste on education. You are close up to the badger, he cannot be an
arm's-length off. Draw your dog, the badger will then turn his tail to
you to dig, or he will charge out. Be ready with the tongs, and a good
dog in case he charges. But if he turns tail get hold of it with a good
grip. A long pull and a steady pull will draw him out, bouncing,
lunging, and snapping. Now, boys, ready with the sack! Dogs off. All
want steady nerves now; three hands on the sack mouth to keep it open,
and take care of your fingers! A twirl round and a quick plunge, and the
badger is in the bag. Don't let go his tail till you have slipped the
cord on his hind-leg, and made the other end of the cord fast to the bag
mouth and to a tree. I have seen a badger go through a sack like a
bullet through paper, and it is well to make all as safe as possible.
M. Edmond le Masson, in his book on hunting fox and badger, severely
deprecates tailing a badger. He denounces the danger and folly of it,
and gives an amusing account of his falling into a trench at the
critical moment as follows:--
"One fine day, or rather one cursed day, when I was sweating blood and
water to get a monster badger out of his earth, a venerable patriarch,
white with years, who resisted my aching tired arms and weary back with
all his strength, the earth gave way and I fell back, rolling over with
the animal, and there I was at the bottom of the abyss in a veritable
pandemonium. Bruised and breathless, I was conscious enough to know that
I was in very bad company, with four more badgers, a furious mother and
three young ones, and not so young either but that one of them was able
to tear from me a large piece of the most indispensable part of my
attire, which placed me in a position of cruel embarrassment, and
obliged me to wait till the shades of night enabled me to get home with
decency. The most humiliating part of the adventure was that all these
cursed brutes, father, mother, and children, made the most insolent
retreat over my stomach to escape from their earth, and then took off
straight across country and escaped. From this moment I have felt a
ferocious malice against all badgers, whether big, middling, or little,
and I never go down into the trench now without having a Lefaucheux
revolver and a Devisme revolver, a long dagger knife, and a sharp Toledo
colichemarde!"
But let not ingenuous youth think that to enjoy the sport all he has to
do is to take a spade and any reputable terrier. He might as well try,
like Dame Partington, to stop the rising tide with a mop! Before so
serious an enterprise as a badger digging be undertaken, the wise man
will see to it that all the materials are ready, and let him be sure
that he has the first necessity--the stout heart to go through with a
tough job when once started. I have, with my brother, Mr. J. A. Pease,
started at 7.30a.m. from home, worked a summer's day with a slight
refreshment at one, handled pick and shovel and spade, fought the
terriers, and gone on through the afternoon, evening, and a black wet
night, without even a drop of water to slake our parched throats,
deserted by all but one faithful workman, and on till the grey dawn of
another day, which found us as weary, wet, and wounded, and as
disreputable a looking company of three men and four terriers as ever
survived a bloody action. At five o'clock we secured a splendid pair of
badgers, which we bore home on aching backs, followed by our gallant
little team of draggled and dirty terriers. On another occasion, it took
my brother and myself, some ten labourers and keepers, and nine
terriers, from 10 till 5.30 to take an old 30-lb. dog badger, in an
earth which had only one hole, and where it was a case of following
straight into the hill. It is wonderful what can be done by twelve men
with pick, spade, and shovel in seven hours. On this occasion we dug a
trench ten feet long into the hill, and then the depth of bearing
necessitated our making a drift, or tunnel, which we drove in thirty
feet. The heat and want of air inside made the work difficult. Candles
would not burn after we had gone about twenty feet, and the tunnel was
so low that we had to work on our knees and then on our stomachs. There
was a considerable danger from the roof falling in, but the fight waged
so fiercely that we thought of little but what was ahead of us. When at
last we got within distance of the badger, he was in rocky ground, we
could mine no further, and being on a shelf round a corner no terrier
could draw him. As I was the smallest of the party, it fell to me to try
and reach him, and I crawled up as far as I could, holding a little
bull-terrier on whom I could rely for protection for my face, and a pair
of short badger tongs. I had indeed a bad quarter of an hour!
It was stifling, cramped, and pitch dark. I kept the terrier in front of
my head and gallantly he behaved, though every now and then the badger's
charge, or a fierce encounter, nearly smothered me with dust and soil,
against which I could not protect myself, as I was powerless to retreat,
there being only room to lie flat on the ground. The man behind me was
in the same position, tight hold of my ankles, and the man again behind
him, and the rest of the force made a human chain, which on a signal
from me was to be drawn out to daylight. Many attempts I made when the
badger charged to get him with the tongs, but I had so little room to
work my hands in that I missed him, and heard and felt the click and
snack of his teeth on the iron. At last I felt I had hold of something,
and I slipped the guard on the tongs, making the hold sure. I cried
"Haul away," holding the terrier with one hand between me and the
badger, and the tongs in the other. I found that he came with wonderful
ease. It was not till we got to the light that I saw I had the huge
bouncing brute by one claw, "Nip" diverting his attention from my head
and hands. The labourers set up a shout, "He's got him by the clee," and
a minute later we had the satisfaction of bagging him. But we were out
only just in time. I had gone back with the terriers to see if there
was nothing more in, and hardly had got outside again, when there was a
fall from the roof that would, if it had taken place earlier, have
buried some of us alive. As it was I looked round to see if we were all
there. The men were, but one little terrier, "Pepper," a real treasure
belonging to a neighbour of mine in Cleveland, Mr. J. P. Petch, was
missing. We went in and found him buried, but got him out alive and
little the worse. This was the biggest badger my brother and I ever got.
But these operations are quite surpassed by those M. le Masson related
in the following authentic story.
"An extraordinary _chasse_ that lasted without interruption three days
and three nights, took place lately in the neighbourhood of St. Omer, on
some land in the picturesque commune of Wisques, in a wood attached to
the chateau of Madame la douairiere Cauvet de Blanchonval.
"One morning two young sportsmen of St. Omer, MM. Theobald Cauvet and
Charles d'Hallewyn, were told by the _garde forestier_ that on his beat
he knew of several badgers near the place they call l'Ermitage.
"The little dogs being put on the scent soon found the earths, where
they entered, and advanced with so much courage that they never stopped
till they had reached the bottom of the earth, where they cornered the
badgers, which held their ground in an attitude of the most threatening
defence.
"The assailants, thus powerless, made themselves heard by barking and
baying incessantly, and with heroic pluck, the little fellows refused to
retreat in spite of the repeated calls of their masters.
"Their perseverance being carried to this length, our young gentlemen
formed a resolution worthy of their taste for great undertakings and
adventures. Labourers were called from the field and commissioned at
once to set to work to reach the badgers.
"The attempt was more than bold. The mouths of the set, three in number,
were at the foot of a hill, and embraced between them a sort of
triangular piece of land at the apex of which the passages all united
and formed a single underground gallery. The dogs having each entered by
a separate hole made this clear.
"A shaft was sunk in order to start a tunnel at the opening of the
lowest hole, but a depth of 7 to 8 metres (23 to 26 feet) had to be sunk
before the passage was reached; thence they followed the direction taken
by the dogs, and enlarged the tunnel to reach them, making an
underground roadway 5 feet high (11/2 metres) and nearly 6 feet wide
(13/4 metres).
"Whilst the workmen were mining, the badgers on their part were also
working ceaselessly, and kept blocking the road with the earth they
threw back in front of the men who were pursuing them, whilst the latter
worked in shifts (relieving parties). For three days and three nights
these indomitable animals worked on, retreating all the time, during
which they bored their way 49 feet whilst buried in this extension of
their principal earth without air or food.
"At one time during this war _a outrance_ it was thought they had
escaped by some means or other, but the game terriers, which had hardly
left them since the beginning of the struggle, soon reassured the
workers by their redoubled cries. The undertaking was pushed on with
greater determination than ever, and when the tunnel had reached a
length of more than 30 metres (100 feet) they came on three badgers,
which were quickly popped into a sack by the keeper. One of them,
however, in his struggles succeeded in escaping from the sack, and even
tore the clothes of the man who was carrying him. MM. Cauvet and
d'Hallewyn showed a persistent perseverance during the whole of this
struggle. By day and by night each in turn directed the operations of a
siege at which more than one other lover of the pleasures of the chase
assisted."
I have given one or two out of many examples I could relate of the
arduous nature of badger-hunting. Discipline among the workmen is as
necessary as determination in every attempt to dig out badgers. Nothing
imperils success so much as divided or disputed authority, and whilst
every attention should be given to the opinions expressed in the
councils of war during the progress of the siege, there must be no
hesitation in carrying out the plan of campaign when once decided on, or
the day may be wasted in earthworks, in making trenches, and attempts to
cut off subterranean ways which have been begun only to be abandoned.
The terriers are the most important requisite; they must be good, the
right size, hardy, enduring, and reliable. No matter how game a dog is,
if he cannot follow the badger he is useless. He must above all be
full-mouthed, sharp-tongued, and ready to keep his voice going for hours
together. He must be absolutely true, or he may make a fool of you, and
lie fast in the earth baying an imaginary foe, or barking and scratching
to get up a small rabbit-hole. Beware of a terrier that will think of
such vermin when employed to fly at much higher game. They are worse
indeed than useless, and often have I been driven nearly wild by being
persuaded to allow some man proud of his terrier to let him go.
Nothing can be more exasperating than when, after several hours of heavy
labour and straining effort, whilst the proud owner stands smiling by
and boasting the merits of his nailing dog, you at length reach the
scene of all the disturbance to see a dirty little brute scratching his
feet to tatters, frothing at the mouth, and wow-wowing to get up a
three-inch rabbit-hole.
An authority in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ recommends collars of bells
being attached to the terriers to make the badger bolt, and states that
broad collars of badger-skin save their necks. The former I do not
believe to be efficacious, as fire, smoke, and crackers will not make a
badger bolt while any one is about, and if it were efficacious it would
be very easy to lose a bolting badger. A collar on a terrier is more
likely to hang a dog on a root end than to save him from a bite. A
terrier ninety-nine times out of a hundred is bitten through the muzzle,
under the jaws, and about the skull and ears, and when inexperienced,
about the fore-legs and shoulders. I never saw a terrier badly bitten in
the neck, though I have seen a terrier's side torn, and one that turned
tail punished severely in the rear. Whilst the terrier for badger should
be game to the death, it is all-important that he should mingle
discretion with his valour, and not drive his superior foe to
desperation, but content himself with keeping him at bay, only using his
teeth at a pinch and in extreme cases. Tell me, reader, how many
terriers you know who can or will go to ground, stay there, tell the
truth always, pass through every place a badger can, keep his head under
the most exasperating circumstances, and come up smiling and eager after
every round, no matter how much punished?
What thousands of little curs there are called terriers, and
fox-terriers that will no more go down a fox-earth than go up a chimney!
How many thousands of the best of these, however finely shaped for the
show-bench, that have no more idea of their profession and the duties
for which nature made them, and from which they derive their name, than
the man in the moon, and whose masters are satisfied if they can kill a
few rats, and think them wonderfully game if they will tackle a cat!
From my boyhood I have had terriers, but I never thought one worth
keeping that could not, or would not, go to ground and show himself or
herself worthy of their honourable name. Appearance is nothing if the
other qualities are not present. I have had a little wire-haired terrier
bitch (with neat, golden-tanned marked head), pretty and gentle, and
winning in all her ways, a companion that slept on my bed each night,
and looked the picture of innocence lying by the hearth or even on a
lady's lap; but within that bosom beat a courageous little heart, in her
head throbbed a brain full of sagacious intelligence, and in that soft
brown eye lurked hidden fire. She could give deep music long sustained,
and she never winced before the enemy. I called her "Worry," a name that
seemed most _mal a propos_ to her casual acquaintance. For twelve long
years she was at my side in all the ups and downs of life, leading the
drag when I was at Cambridge, following foxhounds and bolting foxes
when I was hunting, and my constant and daily companion, accompanying me
into every county when I made an expedition against the badger. I was
once amused by the remarks made about Worry by an old shoemaker who
sometimes accompanied us with a good terrier when we were ratting. "Si'
the (see thee), lads, Worry's t' yan (the one) fer (for) pickin' t' wick
(the life) out on 'em," as she threw five or six big rats over her
shoulder in half as many seconds. She died a terrible death, but game
and uncomplaining to the last. She had a knack of squeezing herself
through almost any kennel bars, and I had had to put her into a kennel
for a time, and had the bars made narrower and covered with mesh wire
netting. An hour after I had put her in I went to see her, and I was
horror-struck to find that she was half through the bars nipped as in a
vice, the wire torn with her teeth, and herself covered with blood and
wounds, with one eye hanging out, blood flowing from her mouth, still
fighting her way on--without a sound except her panting breath. She was
delighted to see me, and with some trouble I liberated her, cut off her
eye, staunched her wounds, and did all I could for her. She never even
winced as I cut away the eye, and as she lay in her bed looked at me
affectionately with her one eye and wagged her tail. The following day,
though she did not even whine, I saw she was in terrible pain; and as
she was at this time badly ruptured, and very lame owing to a carriage
accident some years before which resulted in a broken thigh and a double
fracture above the hock, I had her shot, and buried in a quiet corner of
the orchard, with the inscription on her headstone "_Sit tibi terra
levis_."
The terriers I have found the best and surest are amongst the Yorkshire
breed of hard, wire-haired fox-terriers, short in the leg and strong
headed. All my own have been descended from a white, wire-haired terrier
called Fuss, the best bitch I ever had, and a prize-winner. I bought her
in 1870 or 1871 from a dealer called Wooton. She was bred by a man
called Jack Ridd. Worry was out of her. My brother got a dog, Roger, a
dead game one, at the same time from the same man, and nearly all the
terriers I have had since are descended from these two, with out-crosses
from local strains, including the Rev. Jack Russell's blood. I have seen
smooth-coated terriers do equally well, but not often. The former is a
harder and more enduring breed, though more difficult to keep clean in
the coat, and taking time to get dry after wet in cold weather. The
endurance of the wire-haired is remarkable. I have now a terrier, bred
through many lines of my old favourites, which is twelve years old. His
jolly face is scored with the marks of a thousand fights with fox and
badger, and though lame in his shoulders, his eyes dim with age, and
crippled with rheumatism, showing toothless gums when he smiles his
welcome, he has twice this summer found alone the badger earths, and
returned at evening, each time with his score of marks increased, and on
the last occasion he left one of his ears behind him![4] A terrier that
will go off to a badger earth on his own account, especially if a young
one, will probably end his days and find his grave there. I have known
several do so. Poor old Twig! Always happy, he seldom now wanders
further than the stable-yard, and spends his declining days playing with
the foxhound pup or sleeping in the sun, when in his dreams he fights
his battles over again, and thrice he slays the slain. When we were
young together he followed me every hunting morning to the meet, where
he at once incorporated himself with the pack, greeting his friends in
turn with a grin, a twist of his body, and a wag of his stump; and when
the daylight faded, and the horn sounded for home, I had always to carry
him off on my saddle, so reluctant was he, after the longest day, to
leave his comrades of the chase. This became so troublesome that at last
I yielded to the pressure of the huntsman, Will Nicholl, who then hunted
the Cleveland hounds, to permit him to join the kennel establishment.
For three seasons he scarcely missed a day, and when a fox was run to
ground, no matter after how long or fast a run, the question, "Where is
Twig?" was never asked twice. Always there when wanted, always
dependable and perfect at his work, he shifted many a sulky fox that
went to ground. Then Will Nicholl went to the Hurworth under Sir
Reginald Graham, and took Twig with him. He did two seasons in the
Hurworth country, from thence going to the Burton with Nicholl again.
After a season there I had a letter saying that Nicholl feared that the
old dog would not follow hounds another season, and he sent him back
with me. I summered him well; he did the next season with the Cleveland,
and came out the following season when hounds were handy or when
occasion required, making eight seasons with foxhounds, besides being
hunted at badger in the summer months. He had learnt not to be hard on a
fox, but I thought I detected him in an act of violence something more
than a year ago. We had run to ground in a drain, and Twig, who had
heard hounds, had come across country as fast as his old legs would
carry him, and was in before I could say "Knife." No sooner was he in
than the fox was out, with Twig at his brush. This was not at all what
we wanted, as the whole pack was within fifteen yards. Twig collared the
fox as he bolted, and as the hounds were making a dash at him. I was
angry with Twig, lifted the fox and Twig, who I thought was holding the
fox, above my head to save reynard from the hounds. Here I had to hold
him for five minutes, but when I tried to choke the old dog off, I
discovered that the fox was holding Twig through the upper jaw, and the
dog was hanging with his whole weight suspended on the fox's teeth.
Having made the fox leave go Twig fell to the ground, and when all was
clear I put the fox down, when we had a sharp ten minutes to ground
again. I was there only just in time to prevent Twig from going in to
take his revenge--the fox this time being left in peace. It is as well
to have with you one bull-terrier, or a fox-terrier with a bit of bull
about him. In cases of emergency, and when close up, such a dog comes in
useful, but they are tiresome brutes as a rule to do with; they get so
excited that they do not care what they go at, it may be the dogs or
yourself, or I have seen them set to worry a big stone. They often go to
ground well, but have several faults. They _will_ tackle the badger, get
punished severely, and create all sorts of difficulties, and are
generally nearly mute except when fighting.
[4] Dead since this was written.
I had a rare life of it on one expedition with a little bull-terrier
called Nip that I bought from a Cornishman, after a long dig in which
Nip had distinguished himself. He was a dirty white, ugly, undershot,
crop-eared little brute, with a tail like a shaving-brush. Shy and
nervous, he had a fiendish amount of pugnacity and pluck. When not
otherwise employed, he wore his teeth to the gums in vain endeavours to
get into the interior of large stones. In a railway-carriage, so
delighted was he at all times to get to ground, that he would get under
the seat, and refuse to be removed if he had not on a collar and chain,
except with the badger-tongs. He had to be muzzled and chained when with
other dogs, and even then would make an utter fool of himself in his
attempts to fight on every occasion. He would, when he had lost a
badger, sulk and refuse to come out, and as it was impossible to put in
any other dog while he was there, he had to be dug to and drawn like a
brock. Whilst at the end of a day, when every other animal had had more
than enough, and was glad to get food and rest, he was ready to hold me
by the leg, and it would take the tongs and a couple of men to get his
collar on.
I have always had a great admiration for the short-coated, hard, Scotch
terrier, and believe that they are admirably adapted for this chase, but
I have had no experience of them. They seem cut out for it, being hardy,
the right size, sharp-tongued, and amongst the most intelligent of the
canine race. I knew of one who went to Craig Cluny in the edge of the
Ballochbuie forest, and spent some hours in a vain attempt to dislodge a
badger. He returned three miles to the inn at Braemar and found another
terrier like himself; they trotted back together, and by their united
efforts drew and killed an old badger! There is a spot near this place
in the forest called Stra-na-brach--or the badger's crag--but the badger
knows the place no more. The keeper has done his work with the trap
throughout Aberdeenshire.
Dandie Dinmont no doubt bred his dogs from these terriers, but I have no
belief that the present race is fitted for badger-hunting. Those one
sees on a show bench are too large to get to ground quickly and easily,
and I doubt if there is one of the race, as at present known, that has
ever exchanged civilities with the badger in his natural earth. Dandie
Dinmont bred his terriers for badgers, but I am sure his never were the
size they are now; and although Sir Walter Scott has surrounded Dandie
with a halo of interest, and made him immortal by his eulogies, his
fiendish cruelties have always made me hate his name, and prejudiced me
against a breed that was developed under a hideous system. It makes my
blood boil to read of his terriers trained to face the badger by taking
alive young and old badgers, and sawing off the under jaws, and
employing other indescribably cruel methods.
The dachshund and the small basset, when properly selected, are
splendidly adapted for badger-hunting. In Germany the former, and in
France the latter, are generally bred for this purpose. Full-voiced and
throwing a tongue like a hound, deep-chested, short-legged, and
strong-bodied, they are perhaps the best one can have, but I do not
think that they possess the endurance and quickness of an English
terrier.
There was a breed of wire-haired black-and-tan English terriers, but I
imagine them to be nearly, if not altogether, extinct, that from all
accounts must have been really good terriers in the true meaning of the
term.
In working dogs, be careful only to put in one at a time: you thus
economize your forces, and avoid the risk of their fighting in the
earth. More than this, if you let two dogs or a dog and a bitch in
together, you subject them to danger and the probability of severe
punishment. The dog in front is charged by the badger, the dog behind
cares for nothing but that he may get to close quarters, and it is a
case of those behind cry forward and those in front cry back. In such a
position your terrier may have his legs and head broken, and be killed
outright. Again, a good terrier works better and more steadily than with
a companion, as the competition leads to jealousy. Put in your dog at
the lowest or bottom hole of the set, driving the badger up-hill (or "to
hill," as it is technically called) if you can. It is a much easier task
to get a badger out in this manner, as the further up-hill the fewer are
the passages, and generally speaking the nearer they lie to the surface.
Furthermore, take care that you have a collar and chain for each dog,
and that every terrier not on duty is securely fastened at a distance
from the earth, and out of reach of any other dog.
The following are the requisite implements for badger digging; they
should be good and handy tools:--
[Illustration: FIG. 7.]
1. and 2. Spades. These should be handy, and worn to that condition
when the edge is sharp, and the tool works easily, without having lost
its strength. They should vary but little from the ordinary garden or
rabbiting spade, except that where there is a depth of clay, and when in
a deep trench, it may be easier or a relief to use a drainer's long
narrow one.
3. A crowbar.
4. A scraper, or coal-rake.
[Illustration: FIG. 8.]
5 and 6. Shovels, for clearing out the loose earth, including a
short-handled one, or scoop, for opening the holes to let in air to the
dogs.
[Illustration: FIG. 9.]
7. An earth-piercer, in order to locate the fight.
8. Tongs. The handles should be of wood, as steel and iron "give" under
the pressure of a man's strength at one end and the badger at the other.
With wooden handles and steel fittings there will still be spring enough
to work the guard, which is put on to secure the hold on the animal.
9. Adze, or hatchet, for cutting roots of trees.
10 and 11. Picks, single or double.
Do not forget when starting on a badger-hunt to take plenty of
refreshment with you, and remember that it is a dry job digging
ceaselessly on a summer's day. Draught cider, light beer, and cold tea
are the best liquors to work on for a long stretch. Do not leave the
sacks behind you, nor cord to secure them with. And finally, reader, if
you are a true sportsman, whilst sparing neither necessary pain to
yourself nor dog during the progress of the siege, do not subject your
terriers to unnecessary exposure and punishment; and when the day's work
is done, however weary and however hungry you may be, do not attend to
your own wants till you have seen each member of your gallant little
pack well brushed and oiled (eyes and ears and wounds, if any, cleaned),
fed, and put into a kennel with plenty of clean bedding. And do not
forget to make a brave foe as comfortable as you can. If you keep a
badger in confinement as a pet, he should have access to plenty of fresh
cold water, and be fed on young rabbits and bread till accustomed to
confinement, after which he will take gradually to and remain healthy on
almost any scraps, meat, and vegetables from the house that you give
him. He requires a dry dark kennel and yard, which should be kept
scrupulously clean, when he will never be offensive. Some badgers take
kindly at once to these new circumstances, others sulk and occasionally
waste and die unless great care is taken. If the badger's evacuations
show a tendency to purging, feed on bread chiefly and rabbit, or if
fastidious in his appetite, give raw eggs and bread.
If by this little book I have done anything towards interesting those
who care about the perpetuation of a wild and interesting animal that
is fast disappearing from our hillsides and valleys, and shown that
healthy exercise and pleasure can be obtained in protecting him from
extinction and by fairly entering the lists against him, I shall have
done something towards delaying that sad day when the last badgers, with
the lessons of courage and endurance that they can teach, have vanished
for ever.
THE END
_Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London & Bungay._
Transcriber's Note:
Spelling and hyphenation have been retained as in the original
publication, including on Page 61 where "vne" and "vn" have been
retained as published--"C'est vne chose" and "car si on passe vn".
The following change was made:
Page 48
entred a good depth _changed to_
entered a good depth