Man's best friend

...or man’s master? Rupert looks at the behaviour of our canine companions in the field and, with some examples of seriously questionable bidability, asks, who’s really in charge here?

- RUPERT BUTLER

I have often thought about people’s perceptions of fellow shooters’ dogs, and how polite they can be on occasion, even though the canine in question may be both useless and heedless.

Not far from here, a friend of mine (who will remain nameless for the purpose of this story) has always waxed lyrical about his companions in the field. Although the person in question is a natural orator by trade, his reminiscing of long-departed four-legged friends would, to those that don’t know him, lead one to believe he has had dogs of exceptional ability. Those of us that do know would beg to differ.

A noble-looking English setter was once his dog of choice, and although it may have had the looks as well as being blessed with a benign and friendly nature, its antics in the field left a lot to be desired. I remember in particular one September morning when a bunch of us decided to scale those purple monstrosities in search of a grouse or two. No sooner had we stepped from the confines of some dark pines and out onto open moorland, the animal in question disappeared out over a nearby peak some 300 yards distant. About 10 minutes later, he could be seen on the next hill but one, some miles away. If memory serves me correctly, it took a few days for him to be located. The owner was told to buy the setter in question a mobile phone for future expeditions, so that he could be kept in contact with.