The first chapter of this lesson-book has gone to the printer, so I
don't quite know what I said in it, but I think we had finished the
home-life of the ferret and were just taking it out of its box.
Different professors have different opinions as to what is next to be
done with it. Many (and they are good men too) think you should put it
into a box about eighteen inches long, ten inches high, and ten wide;
the box to be divided into two compartments, with a lid to each, and
with leather loops to these lids through which to thrust a pointed spade
so as to carry it on your shoulder. I have tried this plan, but I have
never quite liked it. I have found that after a heavy day's work the box
was apt to get heavy and feel as if it were a grandfather's clock
hanging on your back. Then the ratting spade was engaged instead of
being free to mump a rat on the head in a hurry, or point out a likely
hole to the dogs. When a ferret was wanted, all the others would dash
out and have to be hunted about to be re-caught. Now and then the lids
came open and let all out; and now and then I let the box slip off the
spade and fall to the ground, and then I felt sorry for the ferrets
inside it! No, I have always carried my ferrets in a good strong canvas
bag, with a little clean straw at the bottom, and a leather strap and
buckle stitched on to it with which to close it. Don't tie the bag with
a piece of string--it is sure to get lost; and don't have a stiff buckle
on your strap that takes ten minutes to undo. Remember the life of a rat
may depend upon your getting your ferret out quickly. Never throw the
bag of ferrets down; lay them down gently. Don't leave the bag on the
ground in a broiling sun with some of the ferrets in it while you are
using the others, or in a cold draughty place on a cold day; find a snug
corner for them, if you can, and cover them up with a little straw or
grass to keep them warm.
If, when carrying your ferrets, they chatter in the bag, let them; it is
only singing, not fighting. I have never known a ferret hurt another in
a bag. Always bag your ferret as soon as you have done with it; don't
drag it about in your hand for half an hour, and don't put it in your
pocket, as it will make your coat smell.
When I have done work and turned towards home, I have made it a rule
always to put a dead rat into the bag, as I think it amuses the ferrets
and breaks the monotony of a long journey; just as when I run down home
I like taking a snack at Swindon Station, just to divert my mind from
the racketing of the train and the thought of the hard seat. When you
get home, give the ferrets a rat for every two of them, if you can
afford it, for then they need only eat the best joints. If you have not
many dead rats and want to save some for the morrow, one rat for three
ferrets is enough for twenty-four hours; but don't forget to give them
water or milk.
I think I have said enough as to the management of ferrets, and will go
on to speak of the necessary tools. The chief thing is a good ratting
spade. What the musket is to the soldier, the spade is to the
rat-catcher. You may get on without it, but you won't do much killing. I
have tried many shapes, but the one I like best is on the pattern of the
above drawing. It should not be too heavy, but yet strong; and,
therefore, the handle should be made of a good piece of ash, and the
other parts of the best tempered steel, and the edge should be sharp
enough to cut quickly through a thick root. The spike should be sharp,
so as easily to enter the ground and feel for a lost hole. This will
constantly save a long dig and much time; besides, one can often bolt a
rat by a few well-directed prods in a soft bank--not that I approve of
this, as there may be more than one rat in the hole, and by prodding out
one you are contented to leave others behind. No, I think the ferret
should go down every hole challenged by the dogs, as then you are pretty
sure of making a clean job of it.
Besides the spade, I have always kept a few trap boxes. These are to
catch a ferret should one lay up and have to be left behind. I bait them
with a piece of rat and place them at the mouth of the hole, and it is
rare I don't find the ferret in it in the morning. I also take one of
these traps with me if I am going where rats are very numerous; then, if
a ferret stops too long in a hole, I stick the mouth of the trap over
the hole and pack it round with earth and stop up all the bolt holes,
and then go on working with the other ferrets. When the sluggard is at
last tired of the hole, it walks into the trap, shoving up the wire
swing door, which falls down behind it, and there it has to stop till
you fetch it.
If I am going to ferret wheat stacks where rats have worked strong, I
take with me half a dozen pieces of thin board about a foot long. I do
so for this reason. The first thing rats do when they take possession of
a stack is to make a good path, or run, all round it just under the
eaves; and when disturbed by ferrets, they get into this run and keep
running away round and round the stack without coming to the ground.
Therefore, before putting in the ferrets, I take a ladder, and going
round the eaves of the stack I stick the boards in so as to cut off
these runs, and when a rat goes off for a gallop he comes to "no
thoroughfare," and feeling sure the ferret is after him, he in
desperation comes to the ground, and then the dogs can have a chance. I
once killed twenty-eight rats out of a big stack in twenty minutes after
the ferrets were put in, all thanks to these stop-boards; and though I
ran the ferrets through and through the stack afterwards, I did not
start another, and so I believe I had got the lot.
I think I have enumerated all the tools required for rat-catching. I
need not mention a knife and a piece of string, as all honest men have
them in their pocket always, even on Sundays. Some rat-catchers take
with them thick leather gloves to save their getting bitten by a rat or
a ferret; but I despise such effeminate ways, and I consider he does not
know his profession if he cannot catch either ferret or rat with his
naked hands.
I must now turn to the subject of dogs--one far more important than
either ferrets or tools, and one so large that if I went on writing and
writing to the end of my days I should not get to the end of it, and so
shall only make a few notes upon it as a slight guide to the student,
leaving him to follow it up and work it out for himself; but in so doing
I beg to say that his future success as a rat-catcher will depend on his
mastering the subject.
But, before proceeding further, I am anxious to say a few words in
parenthesis for the benefit of the Head Masters of our schools.
Admirable as their academies are for turning out Greek and Latin
scholars, I cannot help thinking a proper provision is seldom made in
their establishments for acquiring a real working knowledge of the
profession of a rat-catcher; and I wish to suggest that it would be as
well to insist on all those students who wish to take up this subject
keeping at school at least one good dog and a ferret, and that two
afternoons a week should be set apart entirely for field practice, and
that the cost of this should be jotted down at the end of each term in
the little school account that is sent home to the students' parents. I
know most high-spirited boys will object to this and call it a fresh
tyranny, and ever after hate me for proposing it; but I do it under a
deep sense of duty, being convinced that it is far better they should
perfectly master the rudimentary knowledge of such an honest profession
as that of rat-catcher, than that they should drift on through their
school life with no definite future marked out, finally to become
perhaps such scourges of society as M.P.s who make speeches when
Parliament is not sitting. Judging from the columns of the newspapers,
there must be many thousands who come to this most deplorable end; and
if I can only turn one from such a vicious course, I shall feel I have
benefitted mankind even more than by killing rats and other vermin.
Now I must return to the subject of dogs, and in doing so I will first
begin on their masters, for to make a good dog, a good master is also
absolutely necessary. Anybody that has thought about it knows that as is
the master, so is the dog. A quiet man has a quiet dog, a quarrelsome
man a quarrelsome dog, a bright quick man a bright quick dog, and a
loafing idle ruffian a slinking slothful cur.
First of all, then, the dog's master must understand dog talk; for they
do talk, and eloquently too, with their tongues, their ears, their
eyes, their legs, their tail, and even with the hairs on their backs;
and therefore don't be astonished if you find me saying in the following
pages, "Pepper told me this," or "Wasp said so-and-so." Why, I was once
told by a bull terrier that a country policeman was a thief, and,
"acting on information received," I got the man locked up in prison for
three months, and it just served him right. Having learnt dog language,
use it to your dog in a reasonable way: talk to him as a friend, tell
him the news of the day, of your hopes and fears, your likes and
dislikes, but above all use talk always in the place of a whip. For
instance, when breaking in a young dog not to kill a ferret, take hold
of the dog with a short line, put the ferret on the ground in front of
him, and when he makes a dash at it say, "What _are_ you up to? War
ferret! Why, I gave four and sixpence for that, you fool, and now you
want to kill it! Look here (picking the ferret up and fondling it), this
is one of my friends. Smell it (putting it near his nose). Different
from a rat, eh? Rather sweet, ain't it? War ferret, war ferret! Would
you, you rascal? Ain't you ashamed of yourself? War ferret, war ferret!"
Repeat this a few times for two or three days, and when you first begin
working the dog and he is excitedly watching for a rat to bolt, just say
"War ferret" to him, and he will be sure to understand. Should he,
however, in his excitement make a dash at a ferret, shout at him to
stop, and then, picking up the ferret, rub it over his face, all the
time scolding him well for what he has done; but don't hit him, and
probably he will never look at a ferret again.
In my opinion there is nothing like a thrashing to spoil a dog or a boy;
reason with them and talk to them, and if they are worth keeping they
will understand and obey. Mind, a dog must always obey, and obey at the
first order. Always give an order in a decided voice as if you meant it,
and never overlook the slightest disobedience. One short whistle should
always be enough. If the dog does not obey, call him up and, repeating
the whistle, scold him _with a scold in your voice_. Don't shout or bawl
at him for all the country to hear and the rats too, but just make your
_words sting_. If he repeats his offence, put a line and collar on him
and lead him for half an hour, telling him all the time why you do so,
and he will be so ashamed of himself that the chances are he will obey
you ever after.
Put yourself in the dog's place. Fancy if, when you have "kicked a bit
over the traces" at school, the head-master, instead of thrashing you,
made you walk up and down the playground or cricket-field with him for
half an hour; but no, that would be too awful; it would border on
brutality! But you would not forget it in a hurry.
We humans often behave well and do good, not because it is our duty so
to do, but for what the world will say and for the praise we may get.
Dogs are not in all things superior to humans, and in this matter of
praise I fear they are even inferior to us. They most dearly love
praise, and a good dog should always get it for any and every little
service he renders to man. Remember, he is the only living thing that
takes a _pleasure_ in working for man, and his sole reward is man's
approbation. Give it him, then, and give it him hot and warm when he
deserves it, and he will be willing to do anything for you and will
spend his life worshipping you and working for you; for better, for
worse, for richer, for poorer, he is yours, with no sneaking thoughts
of a divorce court in the background.
There is another thing a master should always do for his dog himself and
do it with reason. See to his comfort; see that he has good food and
water and is comfortably lodged. Don't let him be tied up to a hateful
kennel in a back yard, baked by the sun in summer and nearly frozen in
winter; often without water, and with food thrown into a dish that is
already half full of sour and dirty remains of yesterday's dinner. This
is not reasonable and is cruel. When he is not with you, shut him up in
a kennel, big or little, made as nearly as you can have it on the model
of a kennel for hounds. Let it be cool and airy in summer and snug and
warm in winter; keep all clean--kennel, food, dishes, water and beds.
Don't forget that different dogs have different requirements; for
instance, that a long thick coated dog will sleep with comfort out in
the snow, while a short-coated one will shiver in a thick bed of straw.
Picture to yourself, as you tuck the warm blankets round you on a cold
winters night, what your thin-coated pointer is undergoing in a draughty
kennel on a bare plank bed, chained up to a "misery trap" in the back
yard, which is half full of drifted snow. Think of it, and get up and
put the dog in a spare loose box in the stable for the night, and have a
proper kennel made for him in the morning.
I once had a favourite dog named "Rough" that died of distemper. A small
child asked me a few days afterwards if dogs when they died went to
heaven, and I, not knowing better, answered, "Yes"; and the child said,
"Won't Rough wag his old tail when he sees me come in?" When you "come
in" I hope there will be all your departed dogs wagging their tails to
meet you. It will depend upon how you have treated them here; but take
my word for it, my friend, you will never be allowed to pass that door
if the dogs bark and growl at you.
Don't suppose I am a sentimental "fat pug on a string" sort of man. Next
to humans I like dogs best of all creatures. Why, I have made my living
by their killing rats for me at twopence per rat and three pound a farm,
and I am grateful: but I like dogs in their proper place. For instance,
as a rule, I dislike a dog in the house. The house was meant for man and
should be kept for him. I think when a man goes indoors his dog should
be shut up in the kennel and not be allowed to wander about doing
mischief, eating trash, learning to loaf, and under no discipline. Now
and then I do allow an old dog that has done a life's hard work to roam
about as he likes, and even walk into my study (I mean kitchen) and sit
before the fire and chat with me; but, then, such dogs have established
characters, and nothing can spoil them; besides, they are wise beasts
with a vast experience, and I can learn a lot from them. It was from one
of these I learnt all about the prigging policeman.
A young dog is never good for much who is allowed to run wild; every one
is his master and he obeys no one, and when he is taken out he is dull
and stupid, thinking more of the kitchen scraps than of business. No,
when I go to work, I like to let the dogs out myself, to see them dash
about, dance around, jump up at me and bark with joy. I like to see the
young ones topple each other over in sport, and the old ones gallop on
ahead to the four crossways, and stand there watching to see which way I
am going, and then, when I give them the direction with a wave of the
hand, bolt off down the road with a wriggle of content. You might trust
your life to dogs in such a joyful temper, for they would be sure to
stand by you.
Thank you, young gentlemen; that is enough for this morning's lesson.
You may now amuse yourselves with your Ovid or Euclid.