FOREST 
AND STREAM 
February, 1920 
50 
SOME GOSSIP ON OUR HUNTING DOGS 
IN WHICH THE NAMES OF OLD-TIME CHAMPIONS ARE LINKED UP|WITH THE 
PRESENT WINNERS IN THE FIELD AND THEIR CONNECTION ESTABLISHED 
By LIEUT. WARREN H. MILLER, U. S. N. R. 
H UNTING without a dog, nowadays, 
is generally conceded to be a 
rather discouraging business. Game 
is scarce, and the shots offered in a day’s 
hunt in the uplands few and far between, 
so that skill with a shot gun, so as not 
to miss difficult shots, and a good dog to 
find and point birds or run rabbits are 
prime requisites. Too often a ramble 
afield, alone, with no matter how ready 
a gun and quick an eye, will result in a 
quantity of exasperating lost chances, 
when a grouse whizzed up at some unex- 
pected moment or a bevy of quail buzzes 
out under one’s nose, leaving the gunner 
speechless with ire, to come in shame- 
facedly at the end of the day with slim 
bag and many a tale of hard luck. 
Doubtless the Lord may have made a 
better hunting companion than a good 
bird dog, but doubtless also He never 
did! Especially in upland shooting for 
“pats” it is impossible for two men to 
keep together, and equally inadvisable 
for them to talk, but, with the hunter 
and his dog, there is no such separation. 
Working like a pair of well-tried part- 
ners, they roam the hills and glades to- 
gether, a mutual bond of esteem and 
affection rendering every minute of the 
day a pleasure. And with a good dog, 
Sir Hunter is well warned when to get 
the battery ready and have his shoot- 
ing eye peeled. Without him, — well, 
with me, it seems an invariable rule that 
the instant I stop hunting and do any- 
thing else whatever, something gets up 
and vanishes over into the next country ! 
The day may be getting warm, and, af- 
Sport Hyki — a present day Gleam dog 
ter standing it as long as possible, I 
decide to shed my wool vest. I stand 
the gun against a tree, and — just as I 
lay my hand on the first button — Pow! 
up jumps a grouse from a thicket not 
twenty feet away! A mad dash for the 
gun, a futile aim, a furious yank on a 
trigger locked fast by the safety — and 
he is gone! Marking down, we follow; 
every nerve taut. When well snarled 
up in catbriers, somewhere in the gen- 
eral neighborhood where he pitched 
down, up he goes again— and we score 
another cat-fit! Marking down once 
more, we trail along — and this time he 
waits until a convenient chestnut clump 
is between us and him, and so makes a 
safe getaway, more heard than seen! 
Such is shooting with no dog, — to say 
nothing of lacking his endearing com- 
panionship. 
We who own but one hunting dog de- 
mand no more of him than that he be 
staunch on point, a natural hunter, and 
obedient. To insure a natural hunter it 
is essential to get a pup that comes of 
fine hunting stocks, and that is not so 
easy to do for the average sportsman, 
who knows but little about sporting dogs 
compared to the extensive knowledge of 
the kennelman. Thousands of times have 
I had pedigrees sent me, asking if the 
dog is all right. Of course he’s all 
right! The pedigree shows a Llewellin 
or a Laverack or a pointer, bred in the 
purple, with field trial ehampions in 
every generation, but the buyer could 
not know that! Or, he might be all 
wrong, from a line of dogs bred for 
bench points for generations, with lit- 
tle or no experience in field work. 
Often the prospective buyer turns to 
one of the standard dog books, which are 
all very fine, except for the fact that 
many of them were written ten or fif- 
teen years ago, since which time the 
dogs described have died and others 
taken their places. Their descendants 
are the winners of today, but some con- 
nection is needed between the family 
history of our various heirarchies of 
setters, pointers, hounds, and Airedales 
in the book and the present representa- 
tive who figures on the stud card or the 
puppy litter advertisement, if the buyer 
is to make an intelligent choice. 
For such, and to furnish this link, this 
little gossip on our hunting dogs is 
’ written. 
T O begin with the Llewellin setters; 
who are the Babblebrook dogs? the 
I Gleams? the Whitestones? Mom- 
[ oney II? Boaz? Free Lance? Master 
Ben? — to mention at random a few of 
the names of dogs that are advertised 
as stud sires or from whom pups are 
offered for sale. The question seems ab- 
surd to the dog man, yet to the casual 
buyer these names are just Greek. Per- 
haps the simplest way to get the Llewel- 
lin heirarchy in mind would be to study 
the accompanying five-generation pedi- 
gree of a typical Llewellin setter. Back 
in the fifth generation are the original 
dogs, Count Noble, Roderigo, Gath’s 
Hope and Gath’s Mark, who were the 
first in this country. Even the English 
dogs, Count Wind ’em, Gladstone and 
Gath, appear in this pedigree. Then, in 
the fourth generation, we find the great 
dogs of twenty years ago, Count Glad- 
stone IV, Antonio, Rodfield, etc. Then, 
ten years ago, Lady’s Count Gladstone’s 
Count, and Count Danstone figure in the 
pedigree. Meanwhile, litter brothers 
and sisters of the above dogs were pro- 
ducing champs; Roderigo gave us, be- 
sides Antonio, Jessie Rodfield, Lanark 
Fishel’s Frank— one of the great producing sires among the pointers 
