Hunting in Denmark is a Social Affair, 1992
Small Munsterlander News, 21 March & 28 July 1993
By chance, I had an opportunity to participate -- as a spectator -- in a hunt in Denmark that involved 15 Danes, a pack of Small Munsterlanders, and a formal, social set of customs that surprised even this native Dane. I don't want to give the impression that I know all there is to know about hunting in Denmark, but I thought you might like to hear about my hunting morning the last time I visited my native country.
I wanted to see some Munsterlanders work. When I expressed that wish, I was invited to see them in action during a Saturday morning hunt and so, on a frosty, dark morning, I joined a group of hunters shortly after 8 AM. Everyone greeted everyone else. Everyone had coffee and a pleasant word. About 9 AM, the formalities were over and we were ready to start hunting.
There were 15 hunters (two of them women) and a pack of dogs that included, besides seven or eight Small Munsterlanders, a German Shorthair, a German Wirehair, and three English Setters. The hunt leader gave the instructions for the day: Hunt pheasants first, then the hares in the beet fields of the farmlands on which the hunt was taking place.
A note here: The hunters belonged to a club, which each paid $500 a year to the landowner to hunt on his farmland. Early in the summer, members had released 150 pheasants on the land and assured that they stayed in the area by feeding them right through the hunting season, which runs from October 10 through December 31. There is no daily limit; it is up to the landowner or to the person or persons who have the hunting rights to ensure that there are plenty of birds for hunting each year.
That's why the hunt leader warned all the hunters (though I'm sure they had heard the warning before) not to shoot any hens. The hunter who accidentally did so would have to pay $2.50 for the bird and an additional $2.50 as a fine. To a North American hunter, a mere $5.00 might seem like a cheap price for a pheasant, but I saw birds on sale in butcher shops at a price of $3.00 a piece -- and even at that price, the butcher was making a profit.
The hunt leader went on with his instructions. Only guns on post were allowed to shoot. He preferred that drivers didn't bring their guns into the thicket, so that they wouldn't be tempted to shoot as they flushed the birds. Were all hunting licenses valid? He checked each hunter's license, and by the way, all held their hats in hand while the instructions took place. And so we started out.
What I witnessed, I'd call gunning rather than hunting. We approached a thicket that extended on either side of a railroad track. In each drive, six to eight gunners were placed on either side of the thicket or draw (the remaining hunters and the sons of two of them) with three or four dogs walked through the thicket, shouting and yelling and doing everything they could to drive the birds out in front of the gunners. They had expected 15 to 20 birds, they said, but on that December day, they had no luck. Not one bird was flushed.
They gathered again around the hunt leader, standing in the thin layer of snow near the railroad tracks. The hunt leader told them where the next drive would take place -- in a clump of trees in a slough across a field -- who would be gunning, and who would be driving. At the new location, the hunt leader and his assistant indicated the post each gunner would take (more formality -- as he assigned the place, who was to take it responded with a "Thank you"). When all the gunners were in place, they loaded their guns, and the drivers entered the draw with their dogs. This time they had expected 60 to 80 birds to be flushed, but again no luck. Only 10 birds were driven out and two roosters were shot.
I had joined the hunt, of course, to watch Small Munsterlanders, though I helped out as driver. It was very difficult for me to get a good feel for the dog's work, because four or five dogs were constantly running around in the draw. I did see one of the SMs do some tracking work and finally push out a pheasant from some thick grass. Later, in an area where there was a fallen tree, she stood for a few seconds, and then ran around to the other side of the tree, whereupon a pheasant flushed. I guess that pointing and holding the bird under these circumstances would not have made much sense, because the handler didn't bring a gun into the draw.
When the drive was over, guns were unloaded and the group gathered again to move on to the next area. I left the party then, but they told me that they were about to take a refreshment break, would have one more drive, and they would stop for lunch.
This hunt -- interesting though it was -- was a far cry from the type of hunting I know in New England. Here I hunt alone with one dog or perhaps with one other person and one or two dogs. Game is so scarce here that we have to work hard to get a day's limit and our dogs must be better than what is required during a drive hunt as I saw it in Denmark. I'd say our satisfaction after a good day's hunting surpasses that of the Danish gunners, too.
My only regret is that the Danish hunt did not give me a good opportunity to judge the dogs' abilities. I believe that several of the dogs were excellent field dogs. It's a pity that they are used primarily as flushing or retrieving dogs, and that their versatile skills -- such as staunch pointing -- are not used in full.
Had I stayed with the hunters, I would have taken part in several more of the traditional Danish hunting customs. At the beginning of the day, everyone had placed the equivalent of $2 in a pool. They were wagering $1 a piece on two contests: Who could come closest to guessing (1) the number of legs for the day and (2) the number of shells fired during the day?
The "number of legs" means quite literally the number of legs -- two for each pheasant and four for each hare -- that are counted when the day's bag is spread out ceremonially in the snow at the end of the hunt. This display remains while a special fanfare or salute is played on a hunting horn. The hunters stand, hat in hand, during this last tribute to the dead game. Even if the horn player is missing from the group, the display is laid out and the hunters doff their hats in respect.
At that time, they also empty their pouches of spent shells and count them. A custom that benefits the winner of the pool and also prevents the woods and fields from being littered with castoff shells. I have heard of, though I have not seen, another custom. If a royal or special visitor takes part in the hunt and there is a chance that a fox may be flushed, he is given the choicest post, the one at which he will have the best possible chance of shooting the fox. Of course, he responds to his assignment to that post as all other hunters do, with a doffing of the hat to the hunt leader and a "Thank you."