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Wise Dogs I H ave Owned. 
Babylon, L. I., Nov. 6 .—Editor Forest and 
Stream: Several setters and pointers that I have 
owned at different times have shown an intelli¬ 
gence which I believe will be interesting to the 
lovers of dogs and readers of Forest and 
Stream. 
1 was owner of a red Irish setter named Rose 
who showed reasoning powers in a high degree. 
I frequently shot over a piece of cultivated land 
adjoining a heavy piece of scrub timber not far 
from my home. Quail flushed in the open usually 
made for this scrub and scattered in all direc¬ 
tions. After resting the birds I would send Rose 
into the timber when she would commence quar¬ 
tering the ground in large circles, covering all 
the space where the birds might lie. In this 
manner she seldom failed to locate most of the 
covey. In December the quail were late in feed¬ 
ing, so my time for shooting was limited, and 
I shot at any bird I could get a glimpse of. 
Feathers floating back often gave an indication 
of a chance hit, when I would send Rose to seek 
the dead bird. If I had killed clean she would 
return with the dead bird, otherwise she would 
return and look at me in a puzzled manner. 
When the light was poor I would sometimes re¬ 
turn after shooting a number of times with only 
a half dozen birds. She would come to heel 
and follow me home reluctantly. The next 
morning I have found as many as three quail 
on my piazza. 
Did she bring them all home at the same time, 
or make three different trips of a half mile dur¬ 
ing the night, or why did she place them on my 
front stoop? So that I could not fail to see 
them in opening the front door next morning, of 
course. 
Grant was an English setter dog named for 
the President during his second term. He was 
a ticked roan belton, a little coarse in coat, but 
of grand make as to form and eyes which, when 
on birds, fairly shone and started out of his 
head. I was shooting for English snipe with a 
friend who owned a bench show field trial winner, 
and the dogs were about equal as to pointing, 
dropping to shot and wing and retrieving. A 
brace of snipe flushed in front of my friend. 
He killed the first, but missed the second. I 
killed this bird high up in the air as it quartered 
over me to the left. Grant saw the bird fall. 
Although the meadow was free of all tall grass, 
he failed to retrieve the snipe. After both dogs 
had been over the ground we gave the bird up, 
although it seemed a clean kill. We worked the 
dogs over another piece of snipe ground* then, 
to my surprise, Grant started on the back track 
to the old piece of meadow where I had killed 
the snipe; no whistling or calls would induce 
him to return. I saw him cast over the old spot 
where he had seen the bird fall, then commence 
to paw the mud on the edge of a hole, when he 
brought the snipe to the surface and triumph¬ 
antly returned to me with the snipe in his mouth. 
I never saw a more satisfied dog as he held up 
the bird to me, wagging his tail with a look of 
setter contempt for the bench show winner. 
' I loaned Grant to a friend who needed a dog 
for a quail shooting trip to Norfolk, Va. He 
returned the dog saying he was worthless. I 
learned that the dog had found nearly all the 
coveys the first day, beating three other good 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
dogs. My friend was not in form and missed 
a number of shots. Grant not being told to fetch 
dead birds got restless and then began to hunt 
on his own account, finding and flushing coveys 
ahead of the other dogs. I asked the man what 
he did then. “I brought him in and gave him 
a good thrashing. After that he would stay at 
heel and would not work at all.” I told him 
the dog had never been whipped before, in my 
three years’ shooting over him. It took me some 
weeks to get back his confidence. This dog on 
finding birds in thick cover would back out and 
return to me, then slowly going forward, would 
lead me to the birds and to a stiff point some 
five hundred yards away, perhaps in the middle 
of a thick swamp. 
Pete and Pan, red Irish setters, could almost 
talk. They were, as a brace working together, 
hard to beat. Pan was a wonderful marker of 
dead birds and seldom failed to retrieve when 
called upon to do so. I killed a quail which we 
both saw fall. He returned without the bird 
with a woeful look. .We both searched for the 
quail, but without success, so I decided to try 
for another. Not so Pan; I lost him for a few 
minutes, then found him pointing with his nose 
pointed in the air. I found the bird had lodged 
in the fork of a tree about twenty feet above 
the ground. 
Dash was a setter dog of unknown pedigree, 
a fine dog in the field, and very clever at doing 
a number of retrieving tricks for my amusement. 
He would return and fetch my gloves left on 
purpose at a friend’s house, find my knife, or 
any article thrown in high grass or stubble, untie 
a handkerchief from a limb of a tree or top of 
a picket fence when told to return and fetch it, 
even though the place selected might be a mile 
away from my house. He would retrieve any 
number of eggs placed in a line on my piazza, 
gently dropping each in my hand without break¬ 
ing a single one; would fetch my slippers or any 
article that he was accustomed to bring on com¬ 
mand to do so. His reasoning powers were 
fully developed. 
One other tale of dog sense, then I will let 
some other sportsman brother have the floor. A 
shooting friend owned a pointer dog which be¬ 
yond doubt was one of the finest dogs in Vir¬ 
ginia. On a cold and rather stormy day my 
friend flushed a covey of quail on the edge of 
a narrow but deep brook. He killed a bird which 
fell on the opposite bank. The dog saw the bird 
fall, but to the despair of the owner no per¬ 
suasion would induce the dog to take the trail. 
His shooting companion said: “Throw him in 
and he will swim, over and get the bird.” When 
thrown in the dog swam over and on reaching 
the other bank he went directly to the spot where 
the bird fell, picked it up, brought it to the bank, 
then in full view of the two shooters, chewed 
it up and returned to take his punishment. Up 
to this time he had never been known to mouth 
a bird or ruffle a feather, and although he has 
been in the field for the past two seasons, he has 
never been known to mouth or ruffle a feather 
since. 
I have owned a number of dogs that have 
shown intelligence in an equally high degree as 
these Ii?re described. C. D. B. W. 
[Nov. 13, 1909. 
Mixed Bags in Nebraska. 
Omaha, Neb., Nov. 6. — Editor Forest and 
Stream: Notwithstanding the fact that the 
long continued almost phenomenally mild 
weather which has prevailed throughout Ne¬ 
braska this fall has militated largely against 
good wildfowl shooting, many fine bags have 
been made in different sections; in fact, in 
some places the birds have not been so plentiful 
in years. While the ducking has been and is 
still good, and will grow better during the chill 
days to come, along the lakes and marshes, in 
the northern part of the State, at Niobrara, 
Lugenbeel, Cody, Gordon and Merriman, it 
has been but mediocre- throughout the central 
and southern sections. Along the rivers, the 
Platte, the Elkhorn, the Loups and the Republi¬ 
can there has been but a meagre flight of birds. 
The shooting was capital all over the State, 
however, as long as the locally bred ducks 
lasted, but it fell off tremendously after these 
were shot out, and ever since bags have been 
both infrequently and attenuated. The northern 
birds in their southward migration stopped 
along the northern fringe of lakes and as yet 
but few have come as far south as the middle 
of the State. 
The bluewing teal shooting was extraordi¬ 
narily fine while it continued, but that was only 
through September, and just now there is but 
little real animated sport to be found south of 
the Middle Loup. But we are all waiting for 
the late boisterous November weather. 
There is bound to be a quick and sudden 
change before many more days, and when that 
occurs it will bring the birds down in battalions 
and the shooting will be great along the legend¬ 
ary old Platte and throughout all the southern 
part of the State. , 
So far but few geese have come down. Even 
the October flight of Hutchins’ geese was a 
slender one, compared with former years, and 
so far as the Canadas are concerned, they are 
even more backward. Even a flock along the 
famous old Platte or the riotous Loup has so 
far been a rarity, and there is little likelihood 
of any real sport on these royal fowl before 
the middle of December. Harry Welch, while 
at Clarks, on the Platte, last Wednesday, killed f 
six Canadas out of three bunches that came in 
to his decoys in the early dawn, and one Canada 
and one white goose in the evening, and that 
is the banner bag on geese reported to me this 
season. Sam Richmond, of Fullerton, on the 
Loup, killed two Canadas yesterday out of a 
flock of fourteen he succeeded in calling in, but 
he says—and he is the greatest goose hunter I 
know—that he does not look for the main body 
of geese until welL into December. As with the 
Hutchins’ geese, so it has been with the white 
and speckled-fronts; they have been unwontedly 
scarce. The fact is, however, that the geese are 
decreasing rapidly with each recurring season, 
and it will not be many years until they are 
known no more forever, even along that glory of 
the geese in the olden days, the sprawling Platte. 
There are 5,000 men who go hunting now where 
twenty years ago there was one, and this is not 
exaggerated in the slightest degree. Despite the 
higher sportsmanship that is rapidly marking the 
age, despite our splendid protective laws and 
despite the feasible propagation possibilities, I 
expect to see the day—and I am way on the 
