The RURAL NEW-YORKER 
823 
Nature Notes 
The English Bloodhound 
After reading “Talk About Dogs,” on 
page 501, I was disappointed that one of 
our oldest and most useful breeds to the 
human family was not mentioned. Dur¬ 
ing the first half of the last century the 
English bloodhound seems to have fallen 
out of use, either for hunting man or ani¬ 
mals, consequently they are very scarce 
today, but the institution of dog shows 
fortunately saved them from total ex¬ 
tinction. The genuine English blood¬ 
hound, possessing the natural instinccs 
that he does, has saved the lives of more 
lost people and children than all other 
breeds combined, to say nothing of their 
value to the authorities in locating crim¬ 
inals and fugitives from justice. A 
trained English bloodhound can easily un¬ 
ravel a human trail of a certain person, 
though it has been crossed and recrossed 
by thousands of other scents, whether 
human, animal or bird life, after many 
hours have elapsed since the original 
hunted party had left. 
Even if the above mentioned qualities 
were all of the usefulness of an English 
bloodhound, they alone would render him 
fit for a companion even of a king’s 
throne, but I hope to tell you he does 
have other good qualities. Certainly no 
breed of dog can attract more admiration 
than the English bloodhound; with his 
majestic appearance and docile disposi¬ 
tion he has gained many friends. A great 
many people think he is a ferocious mon¬ 
ster endowed with miraculous attributes, 
and capable of pursuing his victim suc¬ 
cessfully under any conditions till caught, 
then tearing the poor victim limb from 
limb. This may probably be accounted 
for by his name, and partly by recollec¬ 
tions of slave hunting tales in “Uncle 
Tom's Cabin” and similar books. Of 
course the bloodhounds used in the South 
were only common hounds crossed with 
Cuban mastiff and foxhounds of the coun¬ 
try, and was more like an inferior Great 
Dane, so they were rather ferocious. The 
true English bloodhound is a medium 
large size dog with a sage expression, 
small lozenge shaped eyes peering from 
beneath wrinkle upon wrinkle of loose 
skin on their skull, and a long, lean fore¬ 
face with a deep square muzzle, together, 
with their long thin ears neatly folded, 
tremendous dewlap hanging from their 
neck, all distinguishing them at once from 
any other breed of the canine race. 
They will not and cannot be made to 
bite children, kill chickens or sheep, 
something no other breed can boast of, 
and I believe every community should 
have a few for pets, companions and 
guards. His very presence has whole¬ 
some moral effect on tramps and vag¬ 
rants, and a pair of these well-trained 
dogs in every county for aid in locating 
lost people and criminals would prove 
very useful. 
Speaking of farm dogs working, will 
say these dogs are very strong. We have 
one that our four children drive on a 
sled, and he never gets tired, up hill or 
down hill, drawing all four at once for 
miles. He can hunt man or animals; will 
find any one of our children; just speak 
her name and tell him to find her, and he 
gets the right one every time. He sleeps 
in the house, guarding the whole family 
while we sleep sound, and every door un¬ 
locked, too. 
Eight years ago we came up-State, my 
husband having hired out as herdsman 
on a farm, thus leaving the children and 
me alone every day and often late even¬ 
ings. We resided on Lake Champlain 
shore road, near a railroad and the Little 
Ausable River. To our annoyance, from 
one to four tramps called nearly every 
day, demanding food, clothing and money. 
Naturally we wondered what effect a dog 
in our home would bring forth, and my 
husband always admired the English 
bloodhound, having owned one when a 
boy. We decided on one at once, and so 
our first puppy came, a little fat roly- 
poly pup, bubbling over with mischief. 
He grew very fast, so when the warm sun 
shone in the new days of Spring it found 
him a big dependable fellow. One morn¬ 
ing early, just after my husband left for 
work, a tramp came to our door ; Hector 
was upstairs with the children, and he 
rushed downstairs at a terrific speed and 
sprang right through the screen door, 
which was shut and hooked on the in¬ 
side. The tramp began to scream “Call 
your dog!” Since then we have never 
been bothered again, and the children and 
I feel quite safe alone, day or night. 
Just to show the R. N.-Y. readers what 
a real English bloodhound looks like I am 
inclosing a picture of a good one. 
A RURAL NEW-YORKER READER. 
Among the Ozarks 
Good morning, Mrs. Unger, Annie Pike 
Greenwood, Mother Bee, and all the other 
delightful contributors to The R. N.-Y. 
I shall need to re-introduce myself, for 
it has been 15 months since I wrote my 
first letter. This may be done by saying 
I live on a wee bit farm somewhere 
near the crest of the Ozark Mountains in 
Southwestern Missouri. 
Recently I read that the percentage of 
insanity is higher in California than in 
any other State. The reason attributed 
was the monotony of weather. If that 
be true, we surely are safe. No one can 
ever predict what a season will be. We 
may have a gorgeous, mellow Christmas, 
and a freeze in May. This year we have 
had something like a dozen snows, the 
deepest falling March 20-21, and today, 
the 31st, it is snowing hard. Usually we 
have early potatoes planted by the 20th, 
but the snow made us a week late. The 
white blanket kept the jonquils a-bed, 
too. They are just starting in time to 
get caught in today’s storm. Rhubarb 
was showing several leaves, but I am not 
overly optimistic about its fate. 
Farmers here as elsewhere are wonder¬ 
ing what to do next. A year or two ago 
some pinned their faith to hogs, and 
bought expensive stock. This year some 
of those pedigreed animals have gone to 
market with plebeian swine, and at a 
purebred auction some brought less than 
they would have weighed out at seven 
cents the pound. Just now sheep and 
chickens seem the safest investments, 
but not everyone has fences for sheep, 
and the price of fencing material makes 
such a ventui-e prohibitive. 
Eggs are only 16 cents, and have been 
down to 15 cents for several weeks. I 
bad not believed that there could be any 
profit at that price, but a neighbor who 
measures his feed and estimates its value 
tells me his hens are returning him $1.50 
for each 75 cents’ worth of feed. 
And now I want to make a confession, 
which will be shocking to such efficient 
homemakers as you all are. I am one of 
those unfortunates who 
“Alas and alack, 
Somehow or othei-, she hasn’t a knack.” 
If I had lived ixx a dairying section, 
someone would have said of me as Mrs. 
Poyser did of Chowne’s wife: “As for 
her cheese, I know well enough it rose 
like a loaf in a tin last year.” To be 
sure I can take a few yards of decrepit 
braid and produce a nifty Spring bon¬ 
net, or with a snip here and a little rip¬ 
ping and re-sewing, I can make an old 
one into a new and trim it with ragged 
ribbon, with the holes skilfully concealed 
in the shirrings. And I can put a pair 
of half soles on so that they don’t look 
half bad, and this morning I am solder¬ 
ing the milk strainex-, but—that does not 
ease that feeling that I am a colossal 
failure as a hausfrau. I wonder, oh, I 
wondei-, whether it is just because the 
flesh is weak, although the spirit is will¬ 
ing, or whether it is the lack of the 
knack, or whether my sub-conscious mind 
has always been set upon something else 
and so clogs my machinery that it does 
not function properly ! 
Now it occurs to me that it is not 
likely I am a “peculiar person” like unto 
none other. There must be more at home 
like myself, but only the go-getters write 
to the paper, so I do not know about the 
other kind. I want to tell those silent 
sufferers who are comparing themselves 
with some of these superwomen about a 
game I have with myself. When I can¬ 
not get things done I say I am strong- 
minded. That is, I am strong-minded 
enough not to compel my body to do 
something beyond its ability to satisfy my 
mental self. 
I want a beautifully clean house, an 
attractive yard and a spick and span 
garden more than any other material 
thing, unless it would be a car. for then 
I could ride away and forget the lack of 
knack many times. But I do not want 
them enough to pay the price of physical 
weariness I should have to pay. I get 
tired enough doing the absolutely neces¬ 
sary things. Therefore, I get along with 
a very low percentage of scrubbing and 
window washing. I do not get the yard 
raked properly —- ever. I never, never, 
have the kind of a garden I covet. But 
the lovely one, who by some queer jug¬ 
gling of Fate, was born my sister, writes: 
“Never mind. In 50 years we shall not 
know the difference.” I pass the comfort 
on to you. 
Here an interruption. The “gude 
mon” calls my attention to a bird upon 
the lawn. He cannot see it clearly at 
that distance, and we are not rich enough 
to possess bird glasses. It proves to be 
a flicker or yellow-hammer, with his neat 
black crescent necktie and red skull cap 
set far back upon his head. And, oh, 
joy. there are five others! 
A pair of bird fans from St. Louis 
stopped with us last Summer while hik¬ 
ing through the hills. This Valentine 
Day brought a bird book from them, and 
I am taking more interest than ever in 
the leathered friends, although I have 
always enjoyed them. Daily now the 
cardinal,. bluejay, wren and robin hop 
about quite near the door and windows, 
where, we can watch them unobserved. 
Occasionally a chewink joins them. Blue¬ 
birds have been inspecting a scraggy 
place in the great maple; I have seen one 
mocker, and the meadow larks are abroad 
in the fields. Most of these birds win¬ 
ter hei-e or at least are gone a very lit¬ 
tle while. One day a dainty little birdie 
perched upon the snowball just outside 
the kitchen window. I am certain it was 
a titmouse, but they are very x-are, for 
no others have been here since. They 
seem like people to me, and although I 
do .not merit it, I think I shall sign my¬ 
self THE UIKD WOMAN OF THE OZARKS. 
A Pet Beaver Wanted 
Is there anyone who keeps beavers for 
sale? I read about a beaver that had 
come to like its master after a short while. 
It also learned several things, such as 
dogs are accustomed to do. Could you 
tell me the price of a small beaver which 
is about four or six weeks old? I might 
wish to pui-chase one to keep for a pet. 
Clinton Co., N. Y. harold hurley. 
Probably some of our readers can sup¬ 
ply a live beaver. They are generally 
able to find almost anything of this sort. 
As to whether a beaver could take the 
place of a watch dog or a trained animal 
is a question, but. at any rate if one is 
fond of training animals this would be a 
fine experiment. We have heard of peo¬ 
ple who had quite a little success in train¬ 
ing woodchucks to do various tricks, al¬ 
though the woodchuck is generally re¬ 
garded as one of the most stupid animals 
commonly known. Just as this letter 
came we received from Willett Randall 
the picture shown. It seems that it is 
easy enough to tame a beaver “if you 
know how.” 
Experience in Killing Woodchucks 
With the coming of Spring we shall 
have the usual number of letters from 
people who want to know how to get rid 
of woodchucks. This little animal is a 
pest on many farms, and it seems to have 
more lives than a cat. Edward R. Far¬ 
rar of Massachusetts tells us he has a 
method of getting rid of this woodchuck. 
He says that last Summer he had three 
acres of squash surx-ounded by old-time 
stone walls. The woodchucks came out 
of five places in the wall and proceeded 
to eat the young squashes. Carbon bi¬ 
sulphide was not effective for use in the 
stone wall, as it was impossible to block 
up all the hollows. The woodchucks kept 
away from ti-aps. Mr. Farrar says he 
took a tablespoonful of gunpowder and a 
handful of sulphur, put them in a strong 
bottle and mixed them up. On the top of 
the bottle he took a teaspoonful of pow¬ 
der, put in two feet of fuse and wedged it 
in. Then he put a good dose of carbon 
bisulphide in the hole, slipped in the bot¬ 
tle, covered up one hole and lit the fuse. 
He stood by with a shovel to cover up 
every hole where the explosion drove the 
smoke out, and that was the end of Mr. 
Woodchuck in that field. 
“The verra best music I ever heard 
whateffer was doon at Jamie Maclaucb- 
lan’s. There was 15 o’ us pipers in the 
wee back parlor, all playin’ different 
ehunes. I thoc-ht I was floatin’ aboot in 
heaven.”—The Passing Show. 
Courtesy Sports and General Press Agency, London. 
Good Specimen English Bloodhound 
This is our friend Willett Randall of the Adirondack country holding a wild beaver. 
Mr. Randall says: “While these famous builders are able to deal a terrible blow 
with their sharp teeth, and are not to be molested without caution, yet if one knows 
the language of the ‘wild’ they may be taught in a few hours so they are as tame 
as kittens. This one was fresh from the trap not more than one hour previous to 
taking the photo.” 
