Part 20

Now, what honest-minded man can approve of such a performance as this? Yet the so-called sport is in much favour still, from aristocratic gatherings down to those promoted by low public-houses.

It is surely of the nature of anything claiming to be legitimate sport, that the quarry should be in its natural, wild condition, and should have a chance of saving its life from its would-be destroyer. What chance of this kind has a dazed pigeon, fluttering from a box in the presence of guns ready to fire the moment it appears? The whole thing is cowardly and contemptible, and should be suppressed by law. This fate it would have met in 1883 had the House of Lords done its duty as well as the House of Commons; for a Bill which aimed at its abolition was rejected in the former House after it had passed in the latter.

More lately, however, there has occurred an event which proves that the views we hold respecting pigeon-shooting are beginning to find acceptance with the public. As everybody is aware, the Hurlingham Club used to lend its patronage to this sport, but recently a change in its policy took place. A meeting of members was held, and the question was put to the vote, whether the shooting of pigeons from traps should be any longer permitted in the grounds. A two-thirds majority decided that it should be abolished. The minority endeavoured to get this settlement reversed by law, but they were unsuccessful.

It was instructive, as well as cheering, to observe the favour with which the Press as a whole received the judgment delivered by Mr. Justice Joyce on the case submitted to him.

As an example of newspaper utterances I may quote the comments of the Daily News of February 26, 1906:

“All those who believe that 1906 is better as regards blood-sports than 1868 will rejoice that Hurlingham is not to be bound fast to the older date, and its defective morality. Pigeon-shooting is emphatically not now--as Mr. Justice Joyce said it was considered in 1868--a manly sport, fit for gentlemen. It may seem a hard saying to those who, having acquired proficiency in the practice, have lost their sense of moral truth. The fashion at Hurlingham has slowly changed in deference to surrounding opinion. Pigeon-shooting has not only its negative side of unmanliness, but the positive side of cruelty, and we are glad that the Club is not so indissolubly built on this base sport but that a two-thirds majority may decide when the time has come to abolish it.”

CLAY-PIGEON.

Supposing all shooting of birds from traps were prohibited by law, is there any kindred diversion which might take its place? Yes; there is the clay-pigeon shoot, which affords good practice in gunnery and amuses its patrons by enabling them to meet and settle contests for prizes and so forth. It ought to satisfy all who have not got into the vicious habit of thinking that sport is poor work unless it inflicts agony or death on animals.

The clay-pigeon, so-called, does not bear any resemblance to a living bird. It is like a small saucer, brown in colour, and brittle.

One of the ways in which the artificial shoot is carried on is this. A pit is formed, deep enough to allow a man to stand in it and remain unseen. In the pit is placed machinery which a person can employ for projecting a “pigeon” to a considerable distance, at a quick speed, and at any angle. The pigeon may be shot up in the air, or sent skimming along the ground, and fly to right or left. The shooter stands some yards behind the pit, gun in hand, waiting for the appearance of the object. And, not knowing what course the pigeon will take, he is kept on the qui vive. From the sporting point of view, this is so much to the good, as uncertainty is an element of enjoyment in the matter.

At shooting grounds such as those of Messrs. Holland and Holland, of New Bond Street, situated at Kensal Rise, there are many diversities attached to the recreation. Birds are thrown, in many cases, from high structures, or go flying over trees, and move in a mode similar to that of pheasants or driven grouse or partridges. Then, further, at this establishment, the figures of birds with outstretched wings appear for a few seconds on a whitened screen, and form interesting objects to fire at. Across this screen, again, metal representations of rabbits are made to run on an iron rod. From this it will be understood what a deal of variety may be introduced into this form of amusement.

What humanitarians desire to see is the substitution everywhere of this kind of shooting for that of firing at pigeons and starlings and other living birds liberated from traps.

I ought to say that at Messrs. Holland and Holland’s establishment live pigeons are kept for those who wish to fire at them, but I was pleased to learn that, for every living bird killed, a hundred clay birds are shot at.

COURSING

Coursing, the practice of chasing a hare with two greyhounds, slipped simultaneously from the leash, is one of the most ancient of blood-sports; but the spirit of those who take part in it does not seem to have improved with time. It may be doubted whether modern patrons of the sport are as chivalrous as those referred to by the old writer Arrian, whose work on Coursing dates from the second century:

“For coursers, such at least as are true sportsmen, do not take out their dogs for the sake of catching a hare, but for the contest and sport of coursing, and are glad if the hare escape; if she fly to any thin brake for concealment, though they may see her trembling and in the utmost distress, they will call off their dogs.”

What is the attraction of coursing? The author of “The Encyclopædia of Rural Sports” (1852) is forced to admit that coursing has been found dull:

“We may be asked,” he says, “what pleasure there can be for people marshalled in a line, at certain distances from each other, monotonously to walk or ride at a foot pace over a ploughed field or across a wide heath on a bleak November day, the eye anxiously directed hither and thither to catch the clod or the sidelong furrow that half conceals poor puss, or to espy the tuft she has parted to make her form in.”

But even so stupid a pastime as this has its charms for many people, when to the zest of seeing a timid animal’s life at stake there is added the more modern excitement of betting on the prowess of the dogs.

Of the cruelty of coursing, as practised in the chief contests, from the Waterloo Cup down, there can be no question. “What more aggravated form of torture is to be found,” says Lady Florence Dixie, “than coursing with greyhounds--the awful terror of the hare depicting itself in the laid-back ears, convulsive doubles, and wild starting eyes which seem almost to burst from their sockets in the agony of tension which that piteous struggle for life entails?”

Open coursing is bad enough, on the score of inhumanity; but when the coursing is enclosed, or the hares are bagged ones turned out for the occasion, the case is still worse. The use of enclosed grounds dates from about 1876, and we learn from the volume on “Coursing” in the Badminton Library of Sports and Pastimes (1892), that “many of the old school opposed it strongly, and with the best reason, for it utterly lacked the elements of real sport.” At the present time it is by a strict system of “preserving” hares rather than by keeping them in enclosures, that a sufficient supply is maintained for the great coursing matches. What an object-lesson in cruelty these meetings afford may be judged from the fact that at some of them, such as the competition for the Waterloo Cup, there is an attendance of several thousand spectators.

Here is an “Impression of the Waterloo Meeting,” by Mr. John Gulland, which appeared in the Morning Leader in 1911:

“Stretching away into the far country (if you use your eyes) may be seen two long, thin black lines, representing quite a little army of beaters. In a short while dozens of hares may be seen gaily sporting between these lines, in delightful ignorance of the terrible enemy which is lying in wait for them in front. It is the business of the beater to divert a good hare from his playful companions; and if you keep your eye well directed on the black lines, you will soon detect the white flutter of a handkerchief passing along the lines, and a brown shape leaping swiftly along the ground, nervously anxious to turn to one side or the other, but kept to an inexorable straight course by the living wall of beaters. A shout from the crowd, growing every moment more excited as the short drama is about to begin, proclaims the fact that the hare is in the battle-ground, and is about to meet his Waterloo. And, higher still, and louder than all, the raucous cry of the bookmaker, ‘Take 7 to 2,’ ‘Take 2 to 1,’ rises shrill in the air.

“All this time a couple of greyhounds are held tight by a slipper in a box, open on two sides, in the middle of the field. As soon as the hare is beaten past the slipper’s box the greyhounds tug and strain at the leash, almost dragging the slipper with them. When the hare has had about fifty yards’ start the hounds are released, and off they dash together, looking at first like one. This is the most thrilling part of the game, and is watched in a few seconds of almost breathless silence. Pussy hasn’t, however, much chance against a greyhound, and is soon overtaken; but he still has a few arts at his command. For, just as the dog is about to hurl himself on pussy’s unoffending body, the little creature makes a deft turn aside, his pursuer flying harmlessly past. Then follow a series of turns, feints, dodges, and bounds. Puss may, indeed, lead his enemies a sorry dance for a little while, but it is an unequal contest. These greyhounds at Altcar are the best and fastest of their kind, and it is seldom that a hare escapes their teeth on Waterloo Cup day. In half a minute--at the outside two minutes--all is over.”

The writer states that he thinks he has never seen “so many bookmakers and bookmakers’ clerks per head of the population” as at the Waterloo coursing. “It was the merriest gambling I have seen for many a long day,” for coursing lends itself particularly well to betting.”

VII

THE GENTLE CRAFT

“It has been gravely said that a good angler must also be a good Christian. Without literalising the assertion, it may well be admitted that there is much in the contemplative character of his pursuit, and in the quiet scenes of beauty with which it brings him face to face, to soften and elevate as well as to humanise.”