“The racking out, the driving up, the chasing-these are ends in themselves to the sporting spirit, and are plainly so to him, as anybody would see who watched him at his brilliant performance. How beautiful he becomes, how consummate, how ideal. Like a clumsy peasant lad, who would look perfect and statuesque as a huntsman among his native rocks. All that is best in Bashan, all that is genuine and fine comes out and reaches its flower at these times. Hence his yearning for them, his repining when they fruitlessly slip away. He is no terrier, he is a true hunter and pointer, and joy in himself as such speaks in every valiant, native pose he assumes. Not many other things rejoice my eye as does the sight of him going through the bush at a swinging trot, then standing rock-still, with one paw daintily raised and turned in, sagacious, alert with all his faculties beautifully concentrated.”
Thomas Mann, “A Man and His Dog”, 1918
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