Part 93

_Summering Hunters._—Lest it should be supposed that I am averse to turning hunters out at all in the summer months, it will be better, perhaps, not to proceed farther without explaining myself on that head. So far from being averse to it, I would strongly recommend it, under favourable circumstances. In case of having recourse to blistering, it is most serviceable; and after firing, almost necessary; but then they should be turned out only at night, and into a place where there is but little grass, and have two, if not three feeds of corn a day, but nothing else to eat till they go out, unless it be a few vetches, for four or five days at a time, when they are young and tender, in the months of May or June; but this should not be repeated more than three or four times, as they tend to make horses very foul, and when in pod are most injurious to them. It is not every one who keeps hunters that has paddocks to turn them into; nor, indeed, do they fall to the lot of many; but when they are to be had the advantage is great, as a horse is safe in them, and the smaller they are, within reason, the better; for it is not the grass that we want, but the exercise and the moisture of the ground for their feet, and the bracing effects of the pure air. If only one or two hunters are turned into a large paddock, and the grass grows upon them, some sheep should be put in with them to keep it down. Their bite also sweetens the herbage, and makes it more nutritious; but paddocks should never be mown. Paddocks, however, are always to be made, and at a trifling expense. A small piece of ground—say thirty square yards—is sufficient. Let it be hurdled round, and then lined with fagots reared up from seven to eight feet high. A stallion may be kept in these places with the greatest safety as to his breaking out of them, for he will never attempt it so long as he cannot see through or over the fence. The fagots, so far from being worse, are better for the use they are put to; and they are within the reach of every one who resides in the country, at five shillings a score, if he do not grow them himself. The hurdle that lets the horse in and out should often be changed, and then he will be still less inclined to attempt to break out.

However beneficial this turning out a horse in the summer may be, it is comparatively trifling with the advantages that are reaped by a winter’s run. I have seen horses, as it were, renovated in their constitution, by being turned out for a winter; and, as far as relates to their legs and feet, it is, I think, the only time when anything effectual can be done for them, when the injury has been considerable.—

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It is said that the Earl of Plymouth first tried the plan of summering his hunters altogether within the stable, with little variation in their treatment; by which it is asserted their condition was fully preserved, and that, by this means, his horses entered on their hunting season in full wind, speed, and bottom. Others, to avoid this extreme, have soiled their hunters in the stable, or have given carrots; and some have gone a step further, and have pursued the in-door summering, not in stables, but in loose boxes. Still, in all these cases, regular exercise is required, or the feet must suffer, or the horses are apt to become pursy, thick-winded, roarers, or broken-winded. This exercise is apt to be severe, and then the wear on the limbs continues the deterioration which the hunting season had brought on. But if a sportsman had one, two, or three hunters only, and would use them gently every day as hacks, he might then summer them in this way without injury to the horses, provided they had not suffered much from strains or foot lamenesses; in which case absolute rest would of course be requisite. It would therefore seem from all this, that a medium plan, which should combine the renovating effects of air, mild exercise, moisture to the feet, and the relaxent effects of grass, might be followed with much more propriety and hope of general advantage than either total turning out on grass, or total confining within on hay.

The box summering of hunters, in my opinion, is of this kind, and consists in allowing each hunter his liberty in a loose box, having fly wire casements and closed doors during the day, in which he is to be moderately fed with corn and hay. At night, unless it be stormy or very cold, he is to be turned out into a small sheltered paddock, which affords only a short bite of upland grass, of which an acre is sufficient for each horse; but not more than three should be together, to avoid violent racing about amongst them, and other accidents. When the field is eaten quite bare, a similar plot may be substituted; but, in all cases, an open shed within each field, independent of the boxes, should afford a refuge against accidental storms and rain. At an early hour every morning the hunter should be taken to his box, from whence he is not again to come out till the evening, unless a very favourable gloomy day offers itself. Carrots may be substituted for part of the corn and hay with advantage in stable summering; which variation, and many others, will present themselves, and prove beneficial, when the true principles on which the subject should be considered form the basis of the determination. The treatment of the feet during this period must be regulated by circumstances; one or two quiet horses, used to each other, may be allowed to range together without removing the hinder shoes; but it is always a safer plan to take them off, unless the ground be very hard, or the box be paved. This latter circumstance can always be obviated, by allowing these boxes to be covered over either with tan, sod, or other soft matter; but boxes expressly built for this particular purpose would be better altogether unpaved; in which case, to avoid dust, and to keep the flooring cool, it might be moderately watered every morning. The fore feet may be tipped, particularly if at all inclined to contraction; or should they become hard, hot, and dry, such means must be made use of as the medical parts of the work direct, under diseases of the feet. The general state of the horse ought also be attended to, as his bowels, that they do not become costive; and the skin, that it do not become hide-bound or eruptive, or that a short dry cough may not steal a march unobserved on him. The careful and intelligent groom must watch over the health of his in-door summered horses with vigilance, and alter his plan according to circumstances; but the still more prudent owner would do well to have them inspected weekly by a well-informed veterinary surgeon.—_Nimrod_—_Blaine._

SUPPLE, _a._ Pliant, flexible; fawning, bending.

SUPPURATE, _v._ To grow to pus.

SUPPURATION, _s._ The ripening of the matter of a tumour into pus.

SURCINGLE, _s._ A girth with which the saddle or sheet is secured.

SUREFOOTED, _a._ Treading firmly, not stumbling.

SURFEIT, _v._ To feed with meat or drink to satiety and sickness.

SURFEIT, _s._ A disease incident to horses and dogs.

Large pimples or lumps often suddenly appear on the skin of the horse, and especially in the spring; and occasionally they disappear as quickly as they come. Sometimes they seem to be attended with great itching, but in others they appear not in the least to annoy the animal. When they have remained a few days, the cuticle frequently peels off, and a small scaly spot, though rarely a sore, is left. This is called a surfeit, from its resemblance to some eruptions on the skin of the human being, when indigestible or unwholesome food has been taken. These lumps are, in some cases, confined to the neck; but they oftener spread over the sides, back, loins, and quarters.

Bleeding will always be beneficial—from three to five quarts may be taken, according to the strength of the horse, the extent of the eruption, and the degree of fever. Physic never does good. Alteratives will be found useful—and particularly the alterative which was recommended for hide-bound, and in the same doses. These should be given on several successive nights. The night is better than the morning, because the warmth of the stable will cause the antimony and sulphur to act more powerfully on the skin. The horse should be warmly clothed—half an hour’s walking exercise should be given, an additional rug having been thrown over him—such green meat as can be procured should be used in moderate quantities, and the chill should be taken from the water.

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A cuticular eruption, called surfeit, is a fourth appearance that mange frequently assumes. It seems, in many cases, the consequence of some active inflammatory state of the constitution, frequently of some great local internal inflammation; in which cases it puts on something of an acute form. It sometimes breaks out suddenly in bitches after pupping; and in dogs newly recovered from distemper; in fact, any great vascular excitement may produce it; thus, when a dog travels during a great part of a very hot day, and becomes afterwards exposed to cold, a surfeit is oftentimes the consequence. It is usually seen in the form of partial blotches, it being seldom that it extends universally over the body. In some cases there is little appearance of elevated scab; but large patches show themselves, from which the hair has fallen, and left the skin bare and rough from the branny scaly eruption, which itches with more or less violence. Some sportsmen allege that a surfeit is sometimes occasioned by giving food in a hot state. Salt provisions have certainly brought it on; and long-continued feeding on oat or barley meal has done the same.—_The Horse_—_Blaine._

SURGERY, _s._ The art of curing by manual operations.

SUTURE, _s._ A manner of sewing or stitching, particularly wounds.

SWALLOW (_Hirundo_, AUCTORES), _s._ A genus of perchers (_Insessores_, VIGORS), of which we have three species natives—the bank, the chimney, and the window swallow.

SWALLOW, _s._ A small bird of passage, or, as some say, a bird that lies hid and sleeps in winter.

Swallows are found in every country of the known world, but seldom remain the whole year in the same climate; the times of their appearance and departure in this country are well known: they are the constant harbingers of Spring, and on their arrival all nature assumes a more cheerful aspect. The bill of this genus is short, very broad at the base, and a little bent: the head is flat, and the neck scarcely visible; the tongue is short, broad, and cloven; tail mostly forked; wings, legs short.

Of all the various families of birds, which resort to this island for food and shelter, there is none which has occasioned so many conjectures respecting its appearance and departure as the swallow tribe. The habits and modes of living of this tribe are perhaps more conspicuous than those of any other. From the time of their arrival to that of their departure they seem continually before our eyes.

The swallow lives habitually in the air, and performs its various functions in that element; and whether it pursues its fluttering prey, and follows the devious windings of the insects on which it feeds, or endeavours to escape the birds of prey by the quickness of its motion, it describes lines so mutable, so varied, so interwoven, and so confused, that they hardly can be pictured by words.

Not many attempts have been made to preserve swallows alive during the winter, and of these few have succeeded. The following experiments, by Mr. James Pearson of London, we shall give nearly in his own words.

Five or six of these birds were taken about the latter end of August, 1784, in a bat fowling-net, at night; they were put separately into small cages, and fed with nightingales’ food; in about a week or ten days they took food of themselves; they were then put altogether into a deep cage, four feet long, with gravel at the bottom; a broad shallow pan with water was placed in it, in which they sometimes washed themselves, and seemed much strengthened by it. One day Mr. Pearson observed that they went into the water with unusual eagerness, hurrying in and out again repeatedly, with such swiftness as if they had been suddenly seized with a frenzy. Being anxious to see the result, he left them to themselves about half an hour, and on going to the cage again, found them all huddled together in a corner, apparently dead; the cage was then placed at a proper distance from the fire, when only two of them recovered, and were as healthy as before; the rest died. The two remaining ones were allowed to wash themselves occasionally for a short time only; but their feet soon after became swelled and inflamed, which Mr. P. attributed to their perching, and they died about Christmas; thus the first year’s experiment was in some measure lost. Not discouraged by the failure of this, Mr. P. determined to make a second trial the succeeding year, from a strong desire of being convinced of the truth respecting their going into a state of torpidity. Accordingly, the next season, having taken some more birds, he put them into the cage, and in every respect pursued the same methods as with the last; but to guard their feet from the bad effects of damp and cold, he covered the perches with flannel, and had the pleasure to observe that the birds throve extremely well; they sung their song through the winter, and soon after Christmas began to moult, which they got through without any difficulty, and lived three or four years, regularly moulting every year at the usual time. On the renewal of their feathers, it appeared that their tails were forked exactly the same as in those birds which return hither in the spring, and in every respect their appearance was the same. These birds, says Mr. Pearson, were exhibited to the Society for promoting Natural History, on the 14th day of February, 1786, at the time they were in a deep moult, during a severe frost, when the snow was on the ground. Minutes of this circumstance was entered in the books of the society. These birds died at last from neglect, during a long illness which Mr. Pearson had; they died in the summer. Mr. Pearson concludes his very interesting account in these words:—January 20, 1797. I have now in my house, No. 21, Great Newport-street, Long Acre, four swallows in moult, in as perfect health as any birds ever appeared to be when moulting.—_Bewick._

SWALLOW, _v._ To take down the throat; to ingulf.

SWAMP, _s._ A marsh, a bog, a fen.

SWAMPY, _a._ Boggy, fenny.

SWAN, _s._ A large waterfowl.

_Mute Swan._ (_Anas Cygnus Mansuetus_, LINN.; _Le Cygne_, BUFF.)—The plumage of this species is of the same snowy whiteness as that of the wild swan, and the bird is covered next the body with the same kind of fine close down; but it greatly exceeds the wild swan in size, weighing about twenty-five pounds, and measuring more in the length of the body and extent of the wings. This also differs in being furnished with a projecting callous black tubercle, or knob, on the base of the upper mandible, and in the colour of the bill, which in this is red, with black edges and tips: the naked skin between the bill and the eyes is also of the latter colour: in the wild swan this bare space is yellow.

The manners and habits are much the same in both kinds, particularly when they are in a wild state; for indeed this species cannot properly be called domesticated; they are only as it were partly reclaimed from a state of nature, and invited by the friendly and protecting hand of man to decorate and embellish the artificial lakes and pools which beautify his pleasure grounds. On these the swan cannot be accounted a captive, for he enjoys all the sweets of liberty. Placed there, as they are the largest of all the British birds, so are they to the eye the most pleasing and elegant.

The swan, although possessed of the power to rule, yet molests none of the other water birds, and is singularly social and attentive to those of his own family, which he protects from every insult. While they are employed with the cares of the young brood, it is not safe to approach near them, for they will fly upon any stranger, whom they often beat to the ground by repeated blows, and they have been known by a stroke of the wing to break a man’s leg. But, however powerful they are with their wings, yet a slight blow on the head will kill them.

The swan for ages past has been protected on the Thames as royal property, and it continues at this day to be accounted felony to steal their eggs. By this means their increase is secured, and they prove a delightful ornament to that noble river. Latham says, in the reign of Edward IV. the estimation they were held in was such, that no one who possessed a freehold of less than the clear yearly value of five marks, was permitted even to keep any. In those times hardly a piece of water was left unoccupied by these birds, as well on account of the gratification they gave to the eye of their lordly owners, as that which they also afforded when they graced the sumptuous board at the splendid feasts of that period; but the fashion of those days is passed away, and swans are not nearly so common now as they were formerly, being by most people accounted a coarse kind of food, and consequently held in little estimation; but the cygnets (so the young swans are called) are still fattened for the table, and are sold very high, commonly for a guinea each, and sometimes for more: hence it may be presumed they are better food than is generally imagined.

The female makes her nest, concealed among the rough herbage, near the water’s edge; she lays from six to eight large white eggs, and sits on them about six weeks (some say eight weeks) before they are hatched. The young do not acquire their full plumage till the second year.

It is found by experience that the swan will not thrive if kept out of the water; confined in a court-yard he makes an awkward figure, and soon becomes dirty, tawdry, dull, and spiritless.

At the setting in of frosty weather the wild swans are said to associate in prodigious multitudes, and thus united, to use every effort to prevent the water from freezing: this they accomplish by the continual stir kept up amongst them; and by constantly dashing it with their extended wings, they are enabled to remain as long as it suits their convenience, in some favourite part of a lake or river which abounds with their food.

The swan is very properly entitled the peaceful monarch of the lake: conscious of his superior strength, he fears no enemy, nor suffers any bird, however powerful, to molest him; neither does he prey upon any one. His vigorous wing is as a shield against the attacks even of the eagle, and the blows of it are said to be so powerful as to stun or kill the fiercest of his foes. The wolf or the fox may surprise him in the dark, but their efforts are vain in the day. His food consists of the grasses and weeds, and the seeds and roots of plants which grow on the margin of the water, and of the myriads of insects which skim over, or float on its surface; also occasionally of the slimy inhabitants within its bosom.

The female makes her nest of the withered leaves and stalks of reeds and rushes, and lays commonly six or seven thick-shelled white eggs: she is said to sit upon them six weeks before they are hatched. Both male and female are very attentive to their young, and will suffer no enemy to approach them.

_Wild Swan._ (_Anas Cygnus ferus_, LINN.; _Le Cygne Sauvage_, BUFF.)—Measures five feet in length, and above seven in breadth, and weighs from thirteen to sixteen pounds. The bill is three inches long, of a yellowish white from the case to the middle, and thence to the tip, black; the bare space from the bill over the eye and eyelids is yellow; the whole plumage in adult birds is of a pure white, and, next to the skin, they are clothed with a thick fine down; the legs are black.

This species generally keep together in small flocks, or families, except in the pairing season, and in the setting in of winter. At the latter period they assemble in immense multitudes, particularly on the large rivers and lakes of the thinly inhabited northern parts of Europe, Asia, and America: but when the extremity of the weather threatens to become insupportable, in order to shun the gathering storm, they shape their course high in air, in divided and diminished numbers, in search of milder climates. In such seasons they are not uncommonly seen in various parts of the British isles, and in other more southern countries of Europe. The same is observed of them in the North American states. They do not, however, remain longer than till the approaching of the spring, when they again retire northward to the arctic regions to breed. A few, indeed, drop short, and perform that office by the way, for they are known to breed in some of the Hebrides, the Orkney, Shetland, and other solitary isles; but these are hardly worth notice: the great bodies of them are met with in the large rivers and lakes near Hudson’s Bay, and those of Kamtschatka, Lapland, and Iceland. They are said to return to the latter place in flocks of about a hundred at a time in the spring, and also to pour in upon that island from the north, in nearly the same manner, on their way southward in the autumn.

_Swan-Goose._ (_Anas Cygnoides_, LINN.; _L’Oie de Guinée_, BUFF.)—This species is more than a yard in length, and is of a size between the swan and the common-goose; it is distinguished from others of the goose tribe by its upright and stately deportment, by having a large knob on the root of the upper mandible, and a skin, almost bare of feathers, hanging down like a pouch, or a wattle, under the throat; a white line or fillet is extended from the corners of the mouth over the front of the brow; the base of the bill is orange; irides reddish-brown; a dark-brown or black stripe runs down the hinder part of the neck, from the head to the back; the fore part of the neck, and the breast, are yellowish-brown; the back, and all the upper parts, brownish-grey, edged with a lighter colour; the sides, and the feathers which cover the thighs, are clouded with nearly the same colours as the back, and edged with white; belly white; legs orange.

It is said that these birds originally were found in Guinea only; the breed has, however, now become pretty common, and they are widely dispersed, in a wild as well as a domesticated state, over various parts of the world, both in warm and in cold climates.

They are found wild about the lake Baikal, in the east of Siberia, and in Kamtschatka; and they are kept tame in most parts of the Russian empire.

These geese, like others of the tame kind, vary much both in colour of the bill, legs, and plumage, as well as in size; but they all retain the knob on the base of the upper mandible, and the pouch or wattle under the gullet.

They are kept by the curious in various parts of England, and are more noisy than the common goose; nothing can stir either in the night or in the day, without their sounding the alarm, by their hoarse cacklings, and loud shrill cries. They breed with the common goose, and their offspring are as prolific as those of any other kind. The female is of a smaller size than the male; the head, neck, and breast are fulvous; paler on the upper part; the back, wings, and tail, dull brown, with pale edges; belly white; in other respects they are like the male, but the knob over the bill is smaller.—_Bewick._

SWARD, _s._ The skin of bacon; the surface of the ground.

SWARM, _s._ A great body or number of bees or other small animals; a multitude, a crowd.

SWART or SWARTH, _a._ Black, darkly brown, tawny.

SWEEPNET, _s._ A net that takes in a great compass.

SWEEPSTAKE, _s._ A man that wins all; a prize at a race.