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Anecdotes and Instinct of Dogs — Anecdotes of Retriever — Shepherds'
Dogs — Sagacity — Dogs and Monkey — Bulldog — Anecdotes of Shooting a
Stag — Treatment of Dogs.
So much has been written,
and so many anecdotes told, of the cleverness and instinct of dogs, that I
am almost afraid to add anything more on the subject, lest I should be
thought tedious. Nevertheless I cannot refrain from relating one or two
incidents illustrating the instinct, almost amounting to reason, that some
of my canine acquaintances have evinced, and which have fallen under my
own notice. Different dogs are differently endowed in this respect, but
much also depends on their education, manner of living, etc. The dog that
lives with his master constantly sleeping before his fire, instead of in
the kennel, and hearing and seeing all that passes, learns, if at all
quick-witted, to understand not only the meaning of what he sees going on,
but also, frequently in the most wonderful manner, all that is talked of.
I have a favourite retriever, a black water-spaniel, who for many years
has lived in the house, and been constantly with me; he understands and
notices everything that is said, if it at all relates to himself or to the
sporting plans for the day: if at breakfast-time I say, without addressing
the dog himself, "Rover must stop at home to-day, I cannot take him out,"
he never attempts to follow me; if, on the contrary, I say, however
quietly, "I shall take Rover with me to-day," the moment that breakfast is
over he is all on the qui vive, following me wherever I go, evidently
aware that he is to be allowed to accompany me. When left at home, he sits
on the step of the front door, looking out for my return, occasionally
howling and barking in an ill-tempered kind of voice; his great delight is
going with me when I hunt the woods for roe and deer. I had some covers
about five miles from the house, where we were accustomed to look for roe:
we frequently made our plans over night while the dog was in the room. One
day, for some reason, I did not take him: in consequence of this,
invariably when he heard us at night forming our plan to beat the woods,
Rover started alone very early in the morning, and met us up there. He
always went to the cottage where we assembled, and sitting on a hillock in
front of it, which commanded a view of the road by which we came, waited
for us: when he saw us coming, he met us with a peculiar kind of grin on
his face, expressing, as well as words could, his half doubt of being well
received, in consequence of his having come without permission: the
moment he saw that I was not angry with him, he threw off all his
affectation of shyness, and barked and jumped upon me with the most
grateful delight. As
he was very clever at finding deer, I often sent him with the beaters or
hounds to assist, and he always plainly asked me on starting whether he
was to go with me to the pass or to accompany the men. In the latter case,
though a very exclusive dog in his company at other times, he would go
with any one of the beaters, although a stranger to him, whom I told him
to accompany, and he would look to that one man for orders as long as he
was with him. I never lost a wounded roe when he was out, for once on the
track he would stick to it, the whole day if necessary, not fatiguing
himself uselessly, but quietly and determinedly following it up. If the
roe fell and he found it, he would return to me, and then lead me up to
the animal, whatever the distance might be. With red-deer he was also most
useful. The first time that he saw me kill a deer he was very much
surprised; I was walking alone with him through some woods in Ross-shire,
looking for woodcocks; I had killed two or three, when I saw such recent
signs of deer, that I drew the shot from one barrel, and replaced it with
ball. I then continued my walk. Before I had gone far, a fine barren hind
sprang out of a thicket, and as she crossed a small hollow, going directly
away from me, I fired at her, breaking her backbone with the bullet; of
course she dropped immediately, and Rover, who was a short distance behind
me, rushed forward in the direction of the shot, expecting to have to pick
up a woodcock; but on coming up to the hind, who was struggling on the
ground, he ran round her with a look of astonishment, and then came back
to me with an expression in his face plainly saying, " What have you done
now? —you have shot a cow or something." But on my explaining to him that
the hind was fair game, he ran up to her and seized her by the throat like
a bulldog. Ever afterwards he was peculiarly fond of deer-hunting, and
became a great adept, and of great use. When I sent him to assist two or
three hounds to start a roe—as soon as the hounds were on the scent, Rover
always came back to me and waited at the pass: I could enumerate endless
anecdotes of his clever feats in this way.
Though a most aristocratic dog in his usual
habits, when staying with me in England once, he struck up an acquaintance
with a rat catcher and his curs, and used to assist in their business when
he thought that nothing else was to be done, entering into their way of
going on, watching motionless at the rats' holes when the ferrets were in,
and, as the rat catcher told me, he was the best dog of them all, and
always to be depended on for showing if a rat was in a hole, corn-stack,
or elsewhere; never giving a false alarm, or failing to give a true one.
The moment, however, that he saw me, he instantly cut his humble friends,
and denied all acquaintance with them in the most comical manner.
The shepherds' dogs in the mountainous
districts often show the most wonderful instinct in assisting their
masters, who, without their aid, would have but little command over a
large flock of wild black-faced sheep. It is a most interesting sight to
see a clever dog turn a large flock of these sheep in whichever direction
his master wishes, taking advantage of the ground, and making a wide sweep
to get round the sheep without frightening them, till he gets beyond them,
and then rushing barking from flank to flank of the flock, and bringing
them all up in close array to the desired spot. When, too, the shepherd
wishes to catch a particular sheep out of the flock, I have seen him point
it out to the dog, who would instantly distinguish it from the rest, and
follow it up till he caught it. Often I have seen the sheep rush into the
middle of the flock, but the dog, though he must necessarily have lost
sight of it amongst the rest, would immediately single it out again, and
never leave the pursuit till he had the sheep prostrate, but unhurt, under
his feet. I have been with a shepherd when he has consigned a certain part
of his flock to a dog to be driven home, the man accompanying me farther
on to the hill. On our return we invariably found that he had either given
up his charge to the shepherd's wife or some other responsible person, or
had driven them, unassisted, into the fold, lying down himself at the
narrow entrance to keep them from getting out till his master came home.
At other times I have seen a dog keeping watch on the hill on a flock of
sheep, allowing them to feed all day, but always keeping sight of them,
and Brian them home at a proper hour in the evening. In fact it is
difficult to say what a shepherd's dog would not do to assist his master,
who would be quite helpless without him in a Highland district.
Generally speaking these Highland sheepdogs do
not show much aptness in learning to do anything not connected in some way
or other with sheep or cattle. They seem to have been brought into the
world for this express purpose, and for no other.
They watch their master's small crop of oats
or potatoes with great fidelity and keenness, keeping off all intruders in
the shape of sheep, cattle, or horses. A shepherd once, to prove the
quickness of his dog, who was lying before the fire in the house where we
were talking, said to me, in the middle of a sentence concerning something
else — "I'm thinking, Sir, the cow is in the potatoes." Though he
purposely laid no stress on these words, and said them in a quiet
unconcerned tone of voice, the dog, who appeared to be asleep, immediately
jumped up, and leaping through the open window, scrambled up the turf roof
of the house, from which he could see the potato-field. He then (not
seeing the cow there) ran and looked into the byre where she was, and
finding that all was right, came back to the house. After a short time the
shepherd said the same words again, and the dog repeated his look-out; but
on the false alarm being a third time given, the dog got up, and wagging
his tail, looked his master in the face with so comical an expression of
interrogation, that we could not help laughing aloud at him, on which,
with a slight growl, he laid himself down in his warm corner, with an
offended air, and as if determined not to be made a fool of again.
Occasionally a poaching shepherd teaches his
dog to be of great service in assisting him to kill game. I remember one
of these men, who was in the habit of wiring hares, and though the keepers
knew of his malpractices, they were for some time unable to catch him in
the act, in consequence of his always Placing his three dogs as videttes
in different directions, to warn him of the approach of any person. A
herd-boy at the farm near my house puts his dog to a curious use. A great
part of his flock are sent to pasture on the carse-ground across the
river, and when the boy does not want to go across to count them and see
that they are all right, deterred from doing so by the water being
flooded, or from any other reason, he sends his dog to swim across and
collect the sheep on the opposite bank, where he can see them all
distinctly. Though there are other sheep on the carse belonging to
different people, the dog only brings his own flock. After they are
counted and pronounced to be all right by the boy, the dog swims back
again to his master.
Were I to relate the numberless anecdotes of dogs that have been told me,
I could fill a volume. I am often amused by observing the difference of
temper and disposition which is shown by my own dogs—as great a
difference, indeed, as would be perceived among the same number of human
beings. Having for many years been a great collector of living pets, there
is always a vast number of these hangers-on about the house—some useful,
some ornamental, and some neither the one nor the other.
Opposite one window of the room I am in at
present are a monkey and five dogs basking in the sun, a bloodhound, a
Skye terrier, a setter, a Russian poodle, and a young Newfoundland bitch,
who is being educated as a retriever; they all live in great friendship
with the monkey, who is now in the most absurd manner searching the
poodle's coat for fleas, lifting up curl by curl, and examining the roots
of the hair. Occasionally, if she thinks that she has pulled the hair, or
lifted one of his legs rather too roughly, she looks the dog in the face
with an inquiring expression to see if he is angry. The dog, however,
seems rather to enjoy the operation, and showing no symptoms of
displeasure, the monkey continues his search, and when she sees a flea
catches it in the most active manner, looks at it for a moment, and then
eats it with great relish. Having exhausted the game on the poodle, she
jumps on the back of the bloodhound bitch, and having looked into her face
to see how she will bear it, begins a new search, but finding nothing,
goes off for a game at romps with the Newfoundland dog. While the
bloodhound bitch, hearing the voice of one of the children, whom she has
taken a particular fancy to, walks off to the nursery, the setter lies
dozing and dreaming of grouse; while the little terrier sits with ears
pricked up, listening to any distant sounds of dog or man that she may
hear; occasionally she trots off on three legs to look at the back door of
the house, for fear any rat-hunt or fun of that sort may take place
without her being invited. Why do Highland terriers so often run on three
legs particularly when bent on any mischief? Is it to keep one in reserve
in case of emergencies I never had a Highland terrier who did not hop
along constantly on three legs, keeping one of the hind legs up as if to
rest it. The Skye
terrier has a great deal of quiet intelligence, learning to watch his
master's looks, and understand his meaning in a wonderful manner. Without
the determined blind courage of the English bull terrier, this kind of dog
shows great intrepidity in attacking vermin of all kinds, though often his
courage is accompanied by a kind of shyness and reserve; but when once
roused by being bit or scratched in its attacks on vermin, the Skye
terrier fights to the last, and shows a great deal of cunning and
generalship, as well as courage. Unless well entered, when young, however,
they are very apt to be noisy, and yelp and bark more than fight. The
terriers which I have had of this kind show some curious habits, unlike
most other dogs. I have observed that when young they frequently make a
kind of seat under a bush or hedge, where they will sit for hours
together, crouched like a wild animal. Unlike other dogs too, they will
eat (though not driven by hunger) almost anything that is given them, such
as raw eggs, the bones and meat of wild-ducks, or wood-pigeons, and other
birds, that every other kind of dog, however hungry, rejects with disgust.
In fact, in many particulars, their habits resemble those of wild animals;
they always are excellent swimmers, taking the water quietly and
fearlessly when very young. In tracking wounded deer I have occasionally
seen a Skye terrier of very great use, leading his master quietly, and
with great precision, up to the place where the deer had dropped, or had
concealed himself; appearing too to be acting more for the benefit of his
master, and to show the game, than for his own amusement. I have no doubt
that a clever Skye terrier would in many cases get the sportsman a second
shot at a wounded deer with more certainty than almost any other kind of
dog. Indeed, for this kind of work, a quiet though slow dog often is of
more use than the best deer-hound. I at one time had an English bulldog,
who accompanied me constantly in deerstalking; he learned to crouch and
creep up to the deer with me, never showing himself, and seemingly to
understand perfectly what I wished him to do. When necessary, I could
leave him for hours together, lying alone on the hill, when he would never
stir till called by me. If a deer was wounded, he would follow the track
with untiring perseverance, distinguishing the scent of the wounded
animal, and singling it out from the rest, never making a mistake in this
respect; he would also follow the stag till he brought him to bay, when,
with great address in avoiding the horns, he would rush in and seize him
either by the throat or the ear, holding on till I came up, or, as he once
did, strangling the animal, and then coming back to show me where he had
left it. In driving
some woods one day in Ross-shire, a fine stag broke into a wide opening;
two or three sportsmen were stationed at some distance above me; as the
deer passed, I saw the light puff of smoke, and heard the crack of their
rifles as they fired. At every shot the poor animal doubled with the most
extraordinary bounds; he tried to turn back to the cover from which he had
been driven, but the shouts of the beaters deterred him, and after
stopping for a moment to deliberate, he came back fully determined to
cross the opening, in order to gain the shelter of some large woods beyond
it. He was galloping across it, when crack went another rifle, the ball
striking with a splash into a small pool of water close to him; this
turned him towards me, and down he came in my direction as hard as he
could gallop; he appeared to be coming directly at me: just as he was
about a hundred yards from me, a shout from the beaters, who were coming
in view, turned him again, and he passed me, going ventre a terre, with
his head up and his horns back over his shoulders, giving me a good
broadside shot; I fired, and he reeled, turning half round. Bang went my
other barrel, and the stag rolled over like a rabbit, with a force and
crash that seemed as if it would have broken every bone in his body. Up he
got again, and went off, apparently as sound as ever, into the large wood,
passing close to a sportsman who was loading; when in the wood, we saw
him halt for a moment on a hillock and take a good steady look at us all,
who were lost in astonishment at his escape after having been so fairly
upset. He then went off at a steady swinging gallop, and we heard him long
after he was out of view crushing through the dry branches of the young
fir-trees. "Bring the dog," was the cry, and a very large animal,
something between a mastiff and a St. Bernard, was brought; the dog went
off for a little while, barking and making a great noise, but after
rushing up against half-a-dozen trees, and tumbling over amongst the
hidden stones, he came back limping and unwilling to renew the hunt. I had
left my bulldog with a servant at a point of the wood some distance off,
and I proposed sending for him; one of the sportsmen, who had never seen
him engaged in this kind of duty, sarcastically said, "What, that dog who
followed us to-day, as we rode up? He can be no use; he looks more fit to
kill cats or pin a bull." Our host, however, who was better acquainted
with his merits, thought otherwise; and when the bulldog came wagging his
tail and jumping up on me, I took him to the track and sent him upon it;
down went his nose and away he went as hard as he could go, and quite
silently. The wood was so close and thick that we could not keep him in
sight, so I proposed that we should commence our next beat, as the dog
would find me wherever I was, and the strangers did not seem much to
expect any success in getting the wounded stag. During the following beat
we saw the dog for a moment or two pass an opening, and the next instant
two deer came out from the thicket into which he had gone. "He is on the
wrong scent, after all," said the shooter who stood next to me. " Wait,
and we will see," was my answer.
We had finished this beat and were consulting
what to do when the dog appeared in the middle of us, appearing very well
satisfied with himself though covered with blood, and with an ugly tear in
his skin all along one side. " Ah !" said some one "he has got beaten off
by the deer." Looking at him, I saw that most of the blood was not his
own, the wound not being at all deep; I also knew that once having had
hold of the deer, he would not have let go as long as he had life in him.
"Where is he, old boy? take us to him," said I; the dog perfectly
understanding me, looked up in my face, and set off slowly with a whine of
delight. He led us through a great extent of wood, stopping every now and
then that we might keep up with him; at last he came to the foot of a rock
where the stag was lying quite dead with his throat torn open, and marks
of a goodly struggle all round the place; a fine deer he was too, and much
praise did the dog get for his courage and skill: I believe I could have
sold him on the spot at any price which I had chosen to ask, but the dog
and I were too old friends to part, having passed many years together,
both in London, where he lived with my horses and used to run with my cab,
occasionally taking a passing fight with a cat; and also in the country,
where he had also accompanied me in many a long and solitary ramble over
mountain and valley.
In choosing a young dog for a retriever, it is a great point to fix upon
one whose ancestors have been in the same line of business. Skill and
inclination to become a good retriever are hereditary, and one come of
good parents scarcely requires any breaking, taking to it naturally as
soon as he can run about. It is almost impossible to make some dogs useful
in this way; no teaching will do it unless there be a natural
inclination—a first-rite retriever nascitur non fit. You may break
almost any dog to carry a rabbit or bird, but it is a different thing
entirely to retrieve satisfactorily, or to be uniformly correct in
distinguishing and sticking to the scent of the animal which is wounded.
In the same way pointing is hereditary in
pointers and setters, and puppies of a good breed and of a well-educated
ancestry take to pointing at game as naturally as to eating their food,—
and not only do they, of their own accord, point steadily, but also back
each other, quarter their ground regularly, and in fact instinctively
follow the example of their high bred and well brought up ancestors. For
my own part, I think it quite a superfluous trouble crossing a good breed
of pointers with foxhound, or any other kind of dog, by way of adding
speed and strength,—you lose more than you gain, by giving at the same
time hard-headedness and obstinacy. It is much better, if you fancy your
breed of pointers or setters to be growing small or degenerate, to cross
them with some different family of pointers or setters of stronger or
faster make, of which you will be sure to find plenty with very little
trouble. It is a great point in all dogs to allow them to be as much at
liberty as possible; no animal kept shut up in a kennel or place of
confinement can have the same use of his senses as one who is allowed to
be at large to gain opportunities of exerting his powers of observation
and increase his knowledge in the ways of the world. Dogs who are allowed
to be always loose are very seldom mischievous and troublesome, it is only
those who are kept too long shut up and in solitude that rush into
mischief the moment they are at liberty; of course it is necessary to keep
dogs confined to a certain extent, but my rule is to imprison them as
little as possible. Mine, therefore, seldom are troublesome, but live at
peace and friendship with numerous other animals about the house and
grounds, although many of those animals are their natural enemies and
objects of chase: dogs, Shetland Ponies, cats, tame rabbits, wild ducks,
sheldrakes, pigeons, etc., all associate together and feed out of the same
hand; and the only one of my pets whose inclination to slaughter I cannot'
subdue, is a peregrine falcon, who never loses an opportunity of killing
any duck or hen that may venture within his reach. Even the wild
partridges and wood-pigeons, who frequently feed with the poultry, are
left unmolested by the dogs. The terrier, who is constantly at warfare
with cats and rabbits in a state of nature, leaves those about the house
in perfect peace; while the wildest of all wild fowl, the common mallards
and sheldrakes eat corn from the hand of the "hen-wife."
Though naturally all men are carnivorous, and
therefore animals of prey, and inclined by nature to hunt and destroy
other creatures, and although I share in this our natural instinct to a
great extent, I have far more pleasure in seeing these different animals
enjoying themselves about me, and in observing their different habits,
than I have in hunting down and destroying them.
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