Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
This had knock-on repercussions for poor Sam, for whom 'the retrieve' became a
highly fraught business. He was able to spot and easily locate the fallen prey. Biff, on the
other hand, despite having enormous eyes, wasn't able to see terribly far with them. This
meant that when the dogs were released, Biff just careered after his mate, transforming into
a rabid beast around rabbit holes.
In his effort to steal the carcass he frequently took chunks out of Sam, who was just
trying to do his job. This inevitably resulted in some harsh training lessons, usually de-
livered by Jack, who ended up fizzing more than the dog. A pattern emerged of 'two strikes
and you're out'.
So, following the second consecutive rabbit-theft, Biff would be unceremoniously
grabbed by the scruff of the neck, and given a good talking to. He then retaliated by scream-
ing like a banshee in that 'he's killing me' kind of a way.
This might have embarrassed some owners, but we were way beyond that stage. To his
enduring credit, he never, ever, backed down and always ended the session with a throaty
growl.
Pigeon shoots were a different matter altogether. This is a sport that requires lots of
patience with limited movement, attention to proper concealment and hours of time. None
of these things were a problem for Sam, but it was an entirely different situation for Biff.
Despite wearing a dog coat, being wrapped in a fleece blanket and sitting on a squashy
shooting cushion, on cold days he insisted on wriggling onto my lap and trying to climb
inside my jacket. This was all very sweet until I attempted to take a shot, whereupon it
qualified as unwanted behaviour. He ended up being tethered to a tree, wrapped in yet more
blankets looking rather like 'Nanook of the North'.
But it was during pigeon shoots when Sam really came into his own.
One of our main sites was an ancient wood in which the undergrowth was incredibly
dense and almost impossible to traverse. This meant that finding the felled birds was very
difficult.
On one of our sessions with Sam I shot a bird at 60 yards and, with compass in hand,
prepared to tramp off to find it. I released Sam, more to give him a run than anything else
and he pelted off into the darkness with a set expression of a dog on a mission. I couldn't
believe my eyes when, less than five minutes later, he reappeared, triumphant, with the bird
in his mouth.
For an untrained animal he showed great aptitude for this kind of work and obviously
thought it was a terrific game. Thereafter he became a dedicated pigeon retriever and never
failed, leaving poor Biff to ferret myopically around the fringes, struggling with his girth
to penetrate the thicket.
Predator control activities enabled us to learn about dispatching target-species effi-
ciently and humanely and where possible, butchering and eating the result. But there's al-
ways a downside, isn't there?
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