CHAPTER V
The fact that the Huntsman has been the intimate companion of his Hounds during the summer does not necessarily add to his power of influencing them in the hunting-field. Cupboard love does not go very far with Foxhounds. It is the sport that tells. Bolingbroke, in one of his letters to Sir William Wyndham on the State of the Nation, wrote of the House of Commons: “You know the nature of that assembly: they grow, like hounds, fond of the man who shows them game, and by whose halloo they are used to be encouraged.” Foxhounds are not like Mr. Jorrocks’ horse Artaxerxes, of whom his owner said that he would sooner have a feed of corn than the finest run that ever was seen. As a matter of fact, it is not really a positive essential that the man who is going to hunt the Hounds should even have seen them in the summer at all. If he understands how to handle them he will begin to get their confidence in a very few hours, and after he has killed a brace of Cubs with each pack they will not want to attach themselves to any one else.
Although the general plan of campaign during Cub-hunting differs from that of regular hunting, the actual method of handling Hounds is in principle the same. The primary idea that the Huntsman should bear in mind is that the Hounds should leave the Kennel in front of his horse and remain there all day, except when he is riding well away from them on a flank for the purpose of manœuvring them. This maxim may not be carried out to the letter on the road. But even here the body of the pack should always be in front of the Huntsman; they will naturally be there if he is only proceeding at what is called “Hound jog”; if he wants to go faster than this he should teach his Hounds to conform to his pace by the influence of his voice and manner, and not by having them whipped and frightened after him. Foxhounds can be taught to do almost anything if they are spoken to civilly, cheerfully, and firmly. It is not consistent with their dignity for the Huntsman to ride away from them at his own pace in silence, and for them to be rudely ordered to follow him by the whipper-in scolding them from behind. On the road, as elsewhere, a well-modulated dog language on the part of the Huntsman is invaluable. In dealing with all kinds of animals, too much attention cannot be paid to the inflexions of the human voice. A Huntsman who cultivates this art can get his Hounds to go with him at any pace he likes without any whipper-in at all. In actual practice it is well to go to covert in September at almost eight miles an hour, for the sake of economizing daylight and incidentally for the sake of a little extra condition, slackening the pace, of course, to let Hounds get cool before they are asked to hunt. It is not difficult to achieve this pace at this time of year; Hounds are then fresh and eager, and in the early hours the traffic does not impede. On arriving at the covert-side, there is no occasion during Cub-hunting to send away either of the whippers-in for the purpose of getting a view. The Huntsman, having their assistance, will not find it a bad plan to halt about one hundred yards from the covert, and have his men so placed that they can prevent any Hound breaking away from him until he gives the signal after a minute’s pause. When he says “Eleu in there!” the old Hounds know what to do fast enough, and will show the young ones the way into the covert. The Huntsman cannot now be too patient. He should follow his Hounds up to the outside of the covert, and not go inside himself until every Hound, both old and young, is well out of sight. Then he should go quite slowly to the gate of the covert, using his voice all the time. This method has been here indicated in almost the detail of a drill, because the importance of teaching Hounds to draw properly cannot be overestimated. There is nothing more true in Fox-hunting than the old saying, “A Fox well found is half-killed.” Let us see what happens if this system is not carried out. If the Huntsman does not wait for the young Hounds to enter the covert with the old ones, they will follow him round by the gate and not leave his horse’s heels until the old Hounds open on a Fox, thus tending to acquire the fatal habit of expecting their Fox to be found for them instead of finding him themselves. If he indeed waits for all his Hounds to get through the fence and then trots away silently, hoping some time or other to meet them in the covert, the puppies will very naturally begin to wonder what has become of him, and will creep out of the covert by the same way they got in and follow on his track, so that soon after he gets inside, instead of finding every Hound busy drawing, he will perhaps find the old ones, who know more about hunting than he does, drawing for their Fox; but will find the young ones looking at his horse’s tail, or, worse still, the drawing-party will very likely disturb some riot which may cross the ride in full view of the puppies, who will not be slow to take advantage of the treat, with an effect on their moral that will take weeks to correct. If he had used his voice outside the covert, they would know where he was, and would the more readily tend to leave him and help the old Hounds to draw, instead of coming back to look for him at the place where they last saw him. The advantage of scientific over slipshod methods cannot be better illustrated than by a comparison between the right and the wrong way of putting Hounds into covert and getting them to draw. How often one hears that a certain pack of Fox-hounds draw well, while another pack is slack in drawing. If the truth were only known, the slackness is probably due to a faulty technique on the part of the Huntsman rather than to the disposition of the Hounds. No doubt some individual Hounds draw better than others, and will find a Fox in spite of any Huntsman. But there is good ground for the opinion that the capacity of the pack as a whole to spread and draw well is an acquired rather than an inherited characteristic.
However, we will now imagine that all is well. Every Hound is out of sight “examining with curious nose each likely haunt,” and the Huntsman is well away from them either in rear or on a flank, encouraging them with his voice while he awaits the thrill of the first find of the season. And let it be a find. If a whipper-in sees a Cub cross a ride he must not holloa. He can tell the Huntsman very quietly, who can then turn his horse’s head in the required direction, go on drawing, and give his Hounds the chance of crossing the line of their game. At all costs during Cub-hunting they must either find, or think they have found, their Fox for themselves. This is the way to teach them to hunt. If the Cub is unkennelled where the underwood is short and he can be easily viewed, some Huntsmen “see red” and cannot resist the temptation of galloping and holloaing at him to try to turn him into their mouths. This gipsylike practice cannot be too strongly condemned. It usually results in a noisy and undignified exhibition of failure, with possibly a stubbed horse or a catastrophic encounter with a blind ditch. In the meantime he will have got the Hounds’ heads up, and probably have caused the Cub to make a sharp turn, with the result that the Hounds overrun the line and can only be induced to hunt again after the loss of much time and tissue. Even if, for once, he baffles the Cub so that he is caught before he is well on his legs, little or no good is done. The young Hounds will not know what they are after, and the breaking up of the Cub will be a half-hearted affair, if indeed they will eat him at all. No. When the Cub is unkennelled, particularly in view, all hands should be silent and still, and the Hounds should be allowed to do the rest. The object of Cub-hunting is to teach the puppies to hunt, and to confirm the entered Hounds in the practice of catching their Foxes at the end of the run and not at the beginning.
As soon as the first Cub is afoot the rest of the litter will also be roused, and the Hounds may soon be divided into two or more lots. If there is anything like a scent the whippers-in should not try to stop the Hounds to one lot, but should rather try to take positions where they may prevent any one lot breaking covert after the old Fox. The entire staff should now keep quiet and save their horses. The Huntsman should trot about the rides, awaiting the next phase of the operation. The old dog Fox will almost certainly leave the covert as soon as he hears the cry. But it should not be forgotten that the old vixen will very likely dodge about the covert to the very last minute in the hope of saving her Cubs by diverting attention to herself. And at this time of year some vixens when viewed at a certain distance, are apt to be mistaken for Cubs. On a certain memorable morning in the Midlands, every Fox except one had apparently left the covert and the pack all got together on one line. The first whipper-in, who was no novice, viewed the hunted one away and assured the Huntsman that he was after a Cub. The deluded man blew his Hounds away, expecting to handle a beaten Cub every minute. Imagine his surprise at being treated to a ninemile point, at the end of which the Hounds ran into the old vixen. But we will bar accidents for the moment and picture to ourselves one of those propitious mornings when the different lots have worked the Cubs with a fair cry for, say, two hours. The advantages of letting each lot hunt its own Cub are now apparent. Much tissue has been saved to both man and horse which would have been expended in rating and abusing the Hounds for doing the very thing they were brought out to do. Not only that, all the Cubs have been kept on their legs and are beginning to get tired at the same moment, so that as soon as one is caught and eaten it may not be very difficult to clap the Hounds on to another leg-weary Cub and crown the morning’s training with yet another taste of blood. With a view to doing this, it is a good thing to leave the second whipper-in and second horseman to watch the rides while the first Cub is being eaten, so that, if they see another, the Huntsman knows whereabouts to draw up to him later on. But we have not yet killed our Fox. The Huntsman must judge the moment when the opportunity arises to get all parties together on to one Cub. Sooner or later one party will usually become stronger than the others and gradually absorb the smaller ones. The Huntsman can help the concentration by riding to the head of the now official party, cheering them, and sounding his horn when they cross a ride. The whole pack is now settled to one Cub. Some Huntsmen will try to have him headed back into one quarter of the woodland. This policy is of doubtful expediency unless the Cub is nearly beaten and cannot get far away from the Hounds, because whenever he is turned the Hounds tend to overrun the scent, and the time lost in recovering it on the foil gives him the opportunity to think, and a fresh lease of life. It should be tried, however, when the Cub is almost done, rather than run the risk of changing on to a fresh Fox in another quarter. When the Hounds run into their Cub it is probably wise not to take him away from them. Let them tear him in pieces while they are angry, and thus learn the habit of breaking up their Foxes properly while the Huntsman excites them by horn and voice. Those who hunt Hounds in mountainous countries, where they cannot be with them when they kill, will tell you that Hounds will be content to kill their Foxes without eating them. This looks as if the eating of the Fox by the Hounds is not a natural process, but is really a tour de force, stimulated by the presence and manner of the men in red coats, before whom they wish to show off, prompted by a legitimate dash of vanity. Be this as it may, there is no doubt that the worry is the right finish to the chase. Nothing can be more melancholy or indecent than having to leave the carcase of such a beautiful creature as a Fox hanging on a tree, after having vainly performed numerous antics to entice the Hounds to eat him. The best way to avoid this depressing anti-climax is to stand aside when they kill him, and feed their frenzy by sounding in their ears the right tocsin of the chase. A puppy has been known to fight for the head and win it on the very first morning of Cub-hunting. Let him keep it. The late Lord Henry Bentinck wrote that “a puppy that has once fought for the head and carried it home in triumph, trotting in front of the hounds, will never look at a hare again; he is made from that day, and marks himself for a stallion hound.”
