Front matter (continued 6)

At six o’clock in summer, and as soon as it is light in winter, the falconer should be in the hawks’ room. If newly-caught hawks are there, they will be in a compartment from which all daylight has been excluded. Taking them one by one on the fist, he will put on their hoods, and then, lighting a candle, or admitting enough light, he will search for their castings under the screen-perch. If any one of them which has had castings the day before should not have yet cast, he must either put her back on the perch in the dark, or else, if she is far enough advanced in training for this, hand her over to an under-falconer to be carried till she has performed that operation. Under the place occupied by each hawk the pellet should be looked for and examined before it is thrown away with the sweepings of soiled sawdust collected under the perches. As the falconer ascertains that each hawk has cast up a healthy pellet, well-shaped and free from oily mucus, he will be doing no harm if he presents her with a mouthful or two of food, by way of a morning salutation, and just to show that there is no ill-will.

Then if it is a fine morning, there will probably be a hawk or two which may with advantage be pegged out, either in the sunshine, if she is fond of it, or under the cool shade of a tree. At anyrate, there will be a hawk which will be none the worse for half an hour’s carrying; and if there are merlins, it will be none too early to fly them to the lure. Every falconer, each time he rises, ought to take note of the weather, marking especially the direction and strength of the wind, and should do his best to forecast how the day will turn out. If he sees reason to expect a stormy afternoon, he will prepare to fly the hawks as early as he can; whereas, if it is already blowing or raining hard, he may think it best to provide for the possibility of a late start, taking the chance of an improvement in the weather at midday, or later. He should decide betimes which hawks are certain not to be taken out to the field, and make sure that their allowance of food is ready to be given them early in the day. Such hawks may generally be put out early in the morning, and provided with tirings, at which they may pull away contentedly on their blocks till it is time either to fly them to the lure, or to give them their ration on the fist. In the game-hawking season there will be a consultation with the keeper as to the country to be visited and the dogs to be taken out; and the falconer, having an eye to the direction of the wind, will plan out provisionally the sort of tactics which it will be best to adopt in beating the ground. Beaters and markers should also be secured, and directed as to the order of the day’s proceedings, whether the business in hand is grouse-hawking, lark-hawking, or any other form of sport for which these attendants are required.

After breakfast, on sunshiny days, there will generally be candidates for the bath. Fresh water must be brought; and in very cold weather a cup or two of hot water may be added, to take off the chill. Each hawk, after bathing, should have an hour at least to dry and air herself in the sun and wind. In emergencies, on cloudy days, the old falconers used to dry their hawks after bathing by holding them with their backs to a fire. Hawks do not usually care to take a bath much before eleven o’clock; and they should not be indulged with one after half-past twelve. Those which have bathed will, of course, not be ready to fly till well on in the afternoon, especially as they will have had a very light feed in the early morning, as it is not good to let a hawk bathe on a quite empty stomach. The falconer will generally like to be present while the hawks bathe, so that he will not be ready to start for the field, even with those that have not bathed, much before noon. This hour, moreover, is full early for peregrines and most of the larger hawks, which are apt to be slack in the pursuit of their quarry when they have, or at least think they have, the best part of the day before them in which to provide themselves with their one daily solid meal.

Hawks which are not yet thoroughly accustomed to the hood should be hooded up with care, so as to avoid any trial of their temper just as they are about to be called upon to do their best. Hawks, of course, ought always to be good at the hood; but some manifest an obstinate repugnance to it, as for instance Vesta, the very excellent game-falcon trained for the Old Hawking Club. The duties of the falconer in the field are referred to at length in the next chapter. As soon as he has returned—which will usually not be much, if at all, before dark—he must be satisfied that each hawk has had the full allowance of food which he had decided to be good for her, that her beak and talons are fairly clean, her feathers in good order, and her swivel and leash properly attached. Then each will be put in her accustomed place on the screen-perch, the leash being securely tied round the perch itself, as described in Chapter III., and the hood, if she is hooded, removed and hung up.

As for the hawks, if any, which, not being destined for the field, have been left at home, either at blocks on the lawn, or indoors, some person will have been left to shift their blocks as they become exposed to the sun, to carry them for a specified time, and perhaps to fly some of them to the lure. Every trained hawk, unless she is put down to moult, or is being flown at quarry, should be exercised daily to the lure or the fist—merlins twice, and all others once. The methods of giving exercise have been already described; but it must be remembered that when once a hawk has been entered the more real flying in the field she gets the better. Otherwise you are between the horns of a dilemma. If you give no exercise the hawk grows heavy, stale, and lazy. If you fly her too much to the lure she may grow too fond of it, and less keen at wild quarry. Good practical falconers are thus rather averse to a too free use of the lure with peregrines and lanners. On the other hand, I have found that merlins cannot well have too much stooping at the lure. Rook-hawks, and others which are never expected to wait on at a height, may often be made to do a large amount of pretty fast flying when stooping at the dead lure. This sort of practice is of course not to be encouraged in the case of game-hawks or duck-hawks, as tending to lower their pitch, which it is the chief desire of the falconer to keep as high as possible. But long-winged hawks, even in the mere act of waiting on, especially in a strong wind, get a good breather and a good stretching of their wings, if they are always allowed to be uncertain in their own minds whether in the end it will be a partridge or a pigeon that they will have to come down for, or merely the dead lure.

As for the short-winged hawks, and for such others as will not keep on the wing willingly without going to perch, they must be exercised chiefly by the device known as calling off. The most effective plan is that mentioned in Chapter VI., where two men go out, and, standing at a distance from one another, alternately bring the hawk across the intervening space by showing the lure or the outstretched fist. If two men are not available the hawk may be deposited on a railing, gate, or post, and the falconer may walk away, hiding his hands, and when he is as far off as he likes, or as the hawk will allow him to go, may call her and reward her with a few morsels, and then put her down again for the operation to be repeated. A trained hawk will often follow the falconer about for a long time, as he walks along, waiting a while in expectation of being called, and, if disappointed, flitting to a nearer resting-place, or coming right up to him on the chance that his hand will be held out; and if it is not, betaking herself to a neighbouring tree or other convenient place. Such excursions as these, in a park or on the downs, with a favourite hawk always in sight, either in the air or on a conspicuous perch of her own choosing, afford an opportunity of indulging her with the best possible sort of weathering. It is the nearest approach which can safely be made to giving trained hawks their liberty.

It is a common thing with writers on hawking to recommend their readers, when a trained hawk is out of sorts, to put her on a pair of hack-bells, and turn her out to hack for a while. I desire to speak with all respect of a practice which has doubtless been often attempted with success; but I am compelled to say that my own experience is altogether unfavourable to any such experiment. Attempts that I have known made to keep trained hawks at hack have not only failed, but have over and over again entailed the loss of the bird operated upon, sometimes for a time, and sometimes permanently. A strong and clever hawk, even if she is a bit unwell, and even if she is weighted heavily, will manage to kill something, if she has a real mind to it; and even if she does not, her wanderings may lead her first out of sight, and then into some neighbouring field or place, where a stray gunner may make an end of her. I am not able to advise beginners to turn their hawks loose for any longer time than they themselves or some agent can be near at hand, unless it be in the case of a kestrel or hobby, or other hawk which has never killed wild birds regularly in fair flight.

No ordinary bad weather should deter a falconer from taking his long-winged hawks out to exercise. Rain, unless it is very heavy, will do a hawk no harm during the short time she is flying to the lure or being called off. Even if the rain is heavy, an umbrella can be held over the hawk as she is carried to the exercise-ground and back. Wind must be very high indeed before the trainer should hesitate to fly his hawks at exercise. When they are to be merely called off, they will, when sharp-set, if in good condition, face half a gale of wind. But the two men should, in this case, post themselves rather across wind, and not one exactly down-wind of the other; otherwise the hawk of the up-wind man will have her head always turned directly away from the other, and moreover, if she comes fast towards the latter, may be carried so far past him that she will not take the trouble to fetch up again, and struggle up-wind to a lure of which she has once been disappointed. A game-hawk, especially if it is a passager, should not be kept waiting on very long on a boisterous day. Should she, while in the air, catch sight of a wood-pigeon or house-pigeon down-wind, and give chase, she may be out of sight in a moment, and, if the quarry takes the air, may go miles before you can run or ride five hundred yards. The best hawks rather enjoy flying in a very high wind, and seem to take an obvious pride in exerting their mastery over it. Their stoops at the lure in such weather are often exceptionally fine; and the tremendous pace at which the wind enables them to come down, evidently affords them much inward satisfaction.

In hot and sunny weather some caution is advisable in flying hawks to the lure, as well as in the field. For when in high condition, even if they are hungry, they are sometimes disposed to go soaring, and, as it were, forgetting all about mundane affairs, disappear in airy circles down-wind. Eyesses will, it is true, generally come back when they are tired of soaring. They are reminded, sooner or later, by an internal feeling that there is such a thing as a garnished lure in the foreground. But suppose a passage peregrine, after stretching her wings for five minutes at a height of a thousand feet, to catch sight of a wood-pigeon crossing the open down. It would be almost too much to expect that she should resist the temptation. In the cool of the day, morning and evening, hawks very seldom soar if they are sharp-set, and have had the chance of a bath most fine days. It is from nine to four o’clock in summer that there is the most risk of it; and hobbies, which are greatly addicted to the habit, should not be flown during these hours in fine weather, unless the owner is prepared to wait twenty minutes, or even longer, for my lord or my lady to finish airing herself in the sky. Very special care must be taken of all hawks during the migration season—that is, for some weeks after the latter part of September and the beginning of April. At the former period, indeed, it is barely safe to let hobbies wait on at all; and the steadiest peregrines and merlins are apt to feel more or less strongly the restlessness born of migratory instincts. Many favourite hawks which seemed a few days ago to be as safe as tame cats, have been known at migrating time to develop quite suddenly an ungovernable wish to travel, and have cleared for foreign parts when they had an opportunity, without a moment’s warning or a word of leave-taking.

Each hawk, after flying to the lure, will be immediately fed up, usually on the way back to the hawk-house or the lawn. As a rule, the earlier a hawk can be fed up the better, for she will be the sooner ready for the field on the next day. Moreover, she will fly better, probably, to the lure if she is aware that that ordeal is often the precursor of a solid meal. The rather common practice of feeding all the hawks at about the same hour—generally late in the day—has nothing that I ever heard of to recommend it. How can a hawk which habitually dines at six o’clock or later be expected to be keen or to fly well when thrown off at her quarry at three or four o’clock? If a peregrine, when it has been finally decided not to fly her in the field that day, is fed at about eleven o’clock, she will be fit to fly on the morrow at any time after noon. The falconer should note in what order his hawks are fed, so that on the next day, unless any special circumstances prevent it, those which have been fasting the longest should be flown the first.

No hawk, after being fed up, should be disturbed, frightened, or shaken about. If the return journey from the field or exercise-ground is long, and the hawk inclined to bate off the fist, she should be hooded just before or after she has finished her meal; and on returning home she should be put in a quiet place—either on a block where nothing can interfere with her, or on the screen-perch; and if given to bating off, she should remain hooded, or else in a darkened room, till nightfall. No hawk should be allowed ever to finish her meal within sight of another that is still hungry, or to be in a place where she can see a lure or any sort of food without being able to get at it. At no time should a hawk be pegged out in a position where she is exposed to a strong wind, or to a hot sun, except just before and for a while after her bath. Never should food be dragged or pulled away forcibly from a hawk, leaving her hungry on the fist or perch with nothing to eat. The falconer must play the part of a friend, and of a generous friend, not of a niggardly and tyrannical master, who makes use of his superior strength to rob his servant of the good things which she expected to enjoy.

In summer, when the weather is fine and the ground tolerably dry, peregrines, hobbies, and some of the hardiest of the big hawks may be left all night at their blocks on the grass. But the advantages, if any, resulting from such a plan are, I think, more than questionable. It is argued, of course, that wild hawks sleep in the open air, and therefore why not trained ones? But the wild hawk chooses his or her resting-place—almost always a tall tree or rock—far out of reach of the dews and mists which belong to the grass and the lower air. If the wild hawk gets wet, or feels cold at midnight, she has only the elements or herself to blame. If the trained hawk suffers, will she not blame the man who tied her down in a position where she could not escape from these discomforts? A perfectly clean and well-aired hawk-house is, to my mind, as good a place for hawks to sleep in as the finest lawn on the fairest night of the year. What good does a hawk get from bating at the block on to the wet grass from 3 or 4 a.m. till the falconer appears? If wild hawks did this, instead of keeping aloft in the clear air, would they not be likely sometimes to get the croaks?

I have reserved till as late a place as this the question of dieting, the most difficult, if not the most important, part of the falconer’s art. Condition in a trained hawk, as in a trained horse or hound, is the most essential requisite for really great success. Without it the very best hawk will make but a poor show; and with it even a naturally slow hawk can be flown with pleasure and credit. Condition must always depend chiefly upon two things, exercise and dieting. Now, as regards exercise, it is impossible for a falconer to err on the side of excess. Wild hawks in their airy circlings, and in pursuit of their daily subsistence, traverse an almost incredible distance in the course of a year; probably fifty times as many miles as the most active of trained hawks can be expected to travel in the same period. Let the trainer, therefore, make it a simple rule to give his charges as much exercise as he can—not all at racing pace, of course, but in using their wings. He need not be afraid of overdoing the thing, as long as he leaves off when the hawk has made too violent an exertion in an actual flight at quarry. I have seen a hobby, waiting on in a high wind, refuse to come down to the lure, though quite sharp-set, and, for the mere pleasure of flying, remain on the wing for twenty-five minutes. The distance flown through the air in the time—counting only that in which his head was to the wind—amounted to a great many miles; and so far was he from being tired at any time, that he would stoop at and hit the lure, and yet refuse to hold it, and go up again to the soar. Few hawks will do this willingly; they must often be induced by some device of the trainer to keep on the wing; and it is impossible to fly such hawks too much.

With respect to food, the matter is altogether different. It is just as easy to overfeed a hawk as to underfeed her. But what trainer can ever be sure that he has always exactly hit off the golden mean? Gers, peregrines, and all the hawks which resemble the peregrine, desert-hawks, hobbies, eagles, goshawks, and female sparrow-hawks, are fed, as a rule, once a day—peregrines well; eagles, goshawks, and the desert-hawks more sparingly. Merlins of both sexes and male sparrow-hawks twice; but lightly on one at least of the two occasions. Raw beef is generally the staple food of the big hawks; but it should not be tough, and should be often varied by a rather lighter diet of bullock’s heart, rabbit, fowl, or pigeon. Merlins and sparrow-hawks should be fed chiefly on small birds, and in default of these on sheep’s heart, rabbit, young fowls, or exceedingly tender mutton or beef. This sort of diet will also be good for hobbies and kestrels; but it is not necessary to be so nice with them, and they can be regaled with coarser food, as long as it is not tough. But they must also have a freshly-killed small bird occasionally. Goshawks will thrive upon rats, weasels, squirrels, rooks, and, in short, almost any kind of bird or animal, except water-hens, which are indigestible and apt to bring them out of yarak. But a goshawk in good flying order should not be kept for long upon coarse food, but indulged now and then at least with viands of the best quality. Mice are capital food, not only for kestrels and hobbies, but for merlins and sparrow-hawks, and may be given whole to any kind of hawk by way of castings. Eagles are not particular as to diet; but they should have plenty of tirings, and their meat will be none the worse for being a bit tough.

Eagles and all short-winged hawks should have a gorge, that is to say, as much as they choose to eat, about three times in a fortnight, and on the following day should be very sparingly fed. Eagles, indeed, and some female goshawks need not be fed at all, if they are to be flown at wild quarry on the second day after their full meal. But none of the smaller hawks will stand anything approaching to starvation; and to leave a male sparrow-hawk or merlin without food for twenty-four hours would probably do him a permanent injury, or at all events ruin his chance of doing himself any justice in the field for a long time to come. In the case of these, and indeed all the long-winged hawks, when in constant exercise at wild quarry, I am not quite sure that any good is done by giving any gorges at all. I never do so with merlins in the lark season; and yet I have killed with one of them over thirty larks in succession without a miss. Granting that in their wild state all hawks occasionally gorge themselves, it must be remembered that trained hawks are not in a wild state. The analogy is not a just or true one, any more than it would be to argue from the habits of Red Indians to those expedient for a white man in training. However, there can be no great harm, even if there is no great advantage, in giving a gorge to a peregrine once a week. It is a practice consecrated by old tradition and precept: and it is not for us degenerate modern amateurs to lightly discard the maxims of the age of chivalry.

In saying that peregrines and other big hawks are fed once a day, it is not meant that they should never taste a morsel of food except their one solid meal. Small tit-bits will be forthcoming at odd times, as for instance in the early morning, when they are moved from the perch to the block, or taken to bathe, or to be carried. They will pick a little from the tirings at which they are almost every day set to work. There is no need to be stingy with these odds-and-ends; indeed, the old falconers would very often give their falcons quite a small meal when they hooded up for the field, or a little before. One ancient writer declares that a falcon will eat the wing of a fowl, and two hours afterwards be quite fit to fly. Another recommends his readers always to feed eyess peregrines twice a day, but of course moderately. The exact amount of food which it is proper to give to each hawk cannot be specified even very approximately. For amongst the same class of hawks, nay, amongst hawks which actually came from the same nest, will be found individuals with quite different sorts of appetites. One of them will grow too thin upon rations that make her sister, or even her brother, too fat. Nevertheless, taking the average of a number of hawks of the same species, it is possible to arrive at a rough estimate of what is usually required. The allowance always prescribed for a peregrine falcon is one-third of a pound of beef. Tiercels, therefore, will require about a quarter of a pound; and other English hawks must be provided for on about the same scale, i.e. the amount of food, if very solid, should weigh nearly one-seventh of the total weight of the bird fed. The desert-hawks, however, are much smaller feeders. A saker, for instance, looks about as large as a gerfalcon. But it was computed that a trained ger would eat three times as much as a saker. The power of fasting of these hawks is naturally very great; and they should have great gorges, with intervals of very spare feeding. On the other hand, the small hawks eat a great deal more in proportion to their size than the large ones. A whole skylark, of average dimensions, given freshly killed, with all the blood warm in it, is not quite enough for a merlin’s daily ration, but would be about right for most jacks. The ladies, when doing hard work, require about four larks in three days. A starling or blackbird is about the right daily meal for a female hobby, but rather too little for a female sparrow-hawk, and decidedly too much for a “musket” or “robin.” A sparrow without its feathers weighs an ounce, as nearly as may be; and two whole sparrows a day is a very ample allowance for a merlin, even when flying both morning and evening. Probably this would be about the fair quantity to keep a female hobby in good condition. A sparrow and a half would be about sufficient for a jack, a robin, or a musket. An ounce of beef is of course a heavier meal than an ounce of sparrow, but it may be doubted whether it will give a small hawk more strength or courage, though it will sustain him longer.

It is needless to say that the apportionment of food to each individual hawk becomes a more difficult matter in proportion as the hawk is smaller. A mistake of an ounce, one way or the other, is no great matter in the case of a ger or a falcon, but give a jack-merlin an ounce too much or an ounce too little, and you may very soon find out your mistake in a most practical way. Sometimes a jack will eat more—and need more—than his own sisters or any merlin in the establishment. Sometimes, but more rarely, a single merlin will want nearly as much as two jacks. Tiercel peregrines, barbarys, and others, sometimes, but rarely, require almost as much as a falcon. A hawk which has throughout her life never known what it is to be thin can generally be kept in high condition on less food than one which has once been below par. Fortunate is the man who has been able to train his hawk without ever putting her on short commons, and has always been able, by skill or luck, or both combined, to fly her just at the time when she was keen enough and yet not over-hungry. Such hawks have the best chance of turning out well; and among them may probably be numbered many of those whose names are glorious in the annals of the sport.

A hawk’s condition may be tested to a certain limited extent by passing a finger down her breast-bone, and by feeling the broad pectoral muscles on each side of the breast between the forefinger and thumb. Some indications may also be got by gently pinching the muscles of the leg, to ascertain whether they are full and hard. But these are very rough tokens to judge from. One hawk will fly her best when almost as fat as a wild one, and when the sternum is hardly more prominent than it is in a partridge; whereas others, when fed up to this condition, will do no serious work, but go off soaring on their own account, or take perch in a tree or rick, and stare unconcernedly at the lure as if they had no conception that it had any attractions for them. The experienced falconer will form a better judgment as to the condition of his hawk from the manner in which she flies. There is a power and ease of motion about a full-fleshed hawk, a force in her stoop, and a sort of pride about her every movement, which one looks for in vain in a hawk in poor condition. Thin hawks fly in a laboured way against a strong wind, instead of facing it easily and appearing to rejoice in their victory over it, utilising its very opposition to lift them up, and sailing on it like a stiff yacht in a gale. Weak flying may result from overfeeding as well as underfeeding. But in the one case the style appears too heavy; and in the other, too light.

It is, however, very easy to mistake the symptoms, and to imagine that a hawk wants reducing when in fact she wants feeding up. The result, of course, of such faulty diagnosis will be that the treatment applied as a remedy aggravates the mischief already done. It is much easier to reduce a hawk than to get flesh on her again. The beginner should therefore be very sure that his hawk has been overfed before he shortens her daily supply of food. By making a mistake on the other side, and feeding up a hawk which is already a bit above herself, the worst inconvenience that is likely to follow, in the case of an eyess, is a little delay in getting her down to the lure. Passage hawks, especially for a while after they have first been reclaimed, are of course liable to be lost if too highly fed, for when disinclined to come to the lure or fist they are apt to rake away after chance quarry. But they may be full-fleshed and strong, and yet be eager for their food. It is a great mistake, though a very common one, to suppose that a thin hawk is necessarily a hungry one. Whether a hawk is fat or thin is a question of days, whereas it is a question of hours whether she is hungry or not. For instance, a peregrine may have had nearly a full crop every day for a week, and yet if on the eighth day she has only a very light feed in the morning she will be as hungry as a hunter on the ninth day in the afternoon. The tendency nowadays is rather to overfeed hawks, and to forget the old maxim about a fat hawk making “a lean horse and an empty purse.” The amateur has been so loudly warned against keeping a thin hawk that in avoiding this reproach he falls into the other extreme, and attempts to fly his hawk when she is really not sharp-set at all.

Washed meat—so commonly used by the old falconers, that it may almost be said to have been a normal daily diet—is now but rarely given, unless, indeed, where a parsimonious or careless owner has neglected to provide fresh meat, and tainted beef is soaked and squeezed so as to make it available as food. The proper mode of preparing washed meat is to take it when quite fresh and immerse it for a while in cold water, and then dry it in a warm place. Part of its nutritive power—of its goodness, in fact—will then have disappeared, and what remains will digest quickly, leaving the hawk more keen and sooner hungry than if she had swallowed the same quantity of unwashed meat. For the smaller hawks it is less suitable than for the larger; and if it is desired to take them down a peg or two, it will generally be found best either to resort to a diet naturally light, such as rabbit or sheep’s heart, or to reduce a little in quantity the accustomed allowance of their usual food. When a merlin is a bit bumptious, independent, and disobedient, her morning ration may be curtailed, or in feeding up after the day’s exercise she may be indulged only with a good half-crop, instead of the habitual three-quarters. When a peregrine or hawk of similar habits is inclined to be uppish, and to disdain the dead lure, it is a good plan, besides being a shade stingy at dinner-time, to fly her each day at least an hour later than the day before. When, in this way, her time of flying has got to be so late that it cannot be deferred till later on the following day, give her a gorge, or at least a very full meal, when she has done flying, and on the next day, an hour after she has cast, give her quite a light feed, and do not fly her at all till the day after at noon. Sakers, lanners, and that class of hawks must be rather sternly treated if they get above themselves, for their nature is to support long fasts without much trouble. And eagles, of course, must sometimes be almost starved a little.

Remember always that the food given to a trained hawk belongs to one or other of several categories, which rank differently as regards nutritive power. Highest on the list is the flesh of birds or other animals eaten immediately after they are killed, while the life-blood is still warm within them. The meals of wild hawks are, as a rule, of this description; and these accordingly, by virtue of their diet, as well as of their habits, are the most vigorous and healthy of all. Next in order comes the flesh of such creatures as have been killed long enough to grow cold. And in the last rank must be placed washed meat—artificially reduced to its least nutritive character. When it is desired to improve the condition of a hawk, food of the first class will most quickly and most surely effect the object. Any hawk which is found to be below par should have at the first opportunity at least one “bloody crop,” i.e. should either be allowed to take her pleasure on some quarry which she has herself killed, or be indulged with a pigeon, duck, fowl, or other animal which has just been killed. The flesh of animals, whether freshly killed or not, differs a good deal in quality. Pigeons, duck, plovers, and sparrows are about the most nourishing; chickens, rabbits, quails, larks, and mice, somewhat less so. The flesh of rooks, gulls, magpies, water-hens, and coots is not very palatable; and some trained hawks will not touch it. None are likely to improve in condition if fed upon it. There is nothing a trained hawk likes better than good tender beef, especially if it is slightly warmed before being given. It is also very sustaining, and will increase a hawk’s weight rapidly, when a generous allowance of it is made. It is, however, much heavier and more solid than the natural food of any hawk, and therefore apt, if freely given, to make her dull, slow, and sluggish. For sparrow-hawks and merlins it is distinctly bad, if often taken, and in large quantities at a time. These latter, when in flying order at the right season of the year, are, of course, almost always fed up in the field on the quarry they have last killed before finishing their day’s work, and the next morning have a few mouthfuls of similar food which has been killed the afternoon before. When a rook-hawk will readily feed up in the same way on her vanquished quarry, it will be convenient, occasionally at least, to let her do so. Game-hawks should also be allowed sometimes to take their pleasure on their own grouse, partridge, pheasant, or even woodcock; but in practice they are seldom lucky enough to get more than the heads and necks, though modern falconers who fly mostly for sport, and not “for the pot,” are often more liberal in this respect than their predecessors of the Middle Ages.

Goshawks, when kept to hares, or indeed to any quarry which taxes their utmost powers, should often be allowed to finish their meal on one of their victims. Between whiles they may often with advantage be regaled with washed meat only, or some not very appetising food. It is well to induce all hawks to believe that a kill after a hard flight means an extra good feast. But merlins and male sparrow-hawks must very seldom, if at all, know the taste of washed meat, or of any third-rate diet. Some of them, when in first-rate fettle, are very dainty, and will lose the pink of their condition if not indulged with their favourite food. These little hawks are exceedingly fond of swallows and some other very small birds; and although few people would be barbarous enough to deliberately kill any small bird except a sparrow, yet if a young martin should be picked up under the nest from which it has accidentally fallen, and given to a merlin, it will be odd if that hawk does not fly unusually well when next put on the wing. In the lark-hawking season, one of these active workers will not only keep herself in food, but often supply enough extra victims to provide a daily meal of the very best kind for a tiercel, or even a falcon, which happens then to be in moult. The short-winged hawks will also sometimes in one afternoon kill more than they could themselves eat in a week.

A not unimportant item of the commissariat is a supply of good tirings. A tiring may consist of anything tough which is appetising enough for a hawk to keep pulling and picking at it to satisfy her hunger. For tiercels and all hawks of about the same size, rabbits’ or leverets’ feet, with the lower part of the leg, make capital tirings. So do the necks of fowls and ducks, which a falconer should always cause to be reserved for him when any poultry is slain for the kitchen. The foot of an old hare is not too tough for a strong falcon. The small hawks will generally be kept employed for a good many minutes by the two outer joints of a duck’s or old pigeon’s wing. These tirings should be given whenever a hawk is short of exercise, or fidgety on the block or perch. Their effect is not only to strengthen all the muscles—for it is quite hard work picking the scanty scraps of food off the bones and skin amongst which they lie hid—but also to engross the attention of the hawk, which would otherwise very possibly be pining more or less sadly for freedom, and often jumping off in the vain endeavour to attain to that blessing. The frequent picking of bones also keeps a hawk’s beak from growing down at the point to an unnatural length. A man who tells you that he often has to cope his hawk stands detected of being in the habit of not giving her sufficient tirings. Another most valuable use of these tough morsels has been already referred to. It is discovered during the first period of manning the hawk, when the necessary job of carrying is found to be ten times more agreeable and better performed if, while the pupil has perforce to stand on the fist, she has some inducement to do so in the shape of a fowl’s “drumstick” or the wing of a goose, off which almost all the meat has already been picked. No better advice is given by Mr. Freeman—though every one of his counsels is admirable—than to prolong as much as possible the meals which a half-trained hawk takes on the fist. Often the delicacy on which you are regaling her will be tender in one part and tough in another. For instance, it may be the full-fleshed leg of some fowl, off which the meat can easily be torn, with a part of the back, consisting chiefly of skin and bone. If your rather shy pupil takes kindly to the least manageable part of her appointed dinner, let her pick at it, and laboriously polish with many applications of her beak the ill-covered bones of the back, stroking her from time to time with a pencil or with the right hand. Possibly she will not yet stand such acts of familiarity, but bate off. When she is on the fist again, let her recommence operations without taking any liberties with her. Reserve your attentions with the stick for the time when she will be busy discussing the more succulent morsels in the menu, and when she is more likely to submit, without much protest, to the indignity of being stroked. So also, while she is pulling contentedly at the juiciest parts of the joint, you may take her more freely into the presence of men, horses, dogs, and children—in fact, introduce her to more society. The bolder you become the more inclined she will be to let her mistrust prevail over her fondness for the feast, and the less exclusively she will confine her attention to it. Thus a pigeon’s wing, which it would take a fully-trained tiercel less than five minutes to dispose of, may, with a falcon caught only a fortnight ago, engage her attention for nearly half an hour.

With tirings there will often be a small quantity of castings which will be swallowed with the pickings of meat. The trainer must judge for himself whether enough of them has been thus taken during the day to form a proper pellet, or whether more should be given in another way. In feeding up upon quarry which they have themselves killed, whether on the fist or on the ground, hawks will almost always naturally take castings enough. But when the meal consists of beef, or of anything that has been skinned or plucked quite bare, it will be necessary either to add some feathers or fur, or the like, scattering it about on the meat which the hawk is about to swallow, or else the casting may consist of a strip of skin with fur or feathers left on it, and a piece of meat at one end. While swallowing the meat the hawk will gulp down the skin attached to it, and thus with one or two mouthfuls give herself the required quantity of castings. Some falconers make up the casting into a sort of pill, and cram their hawks with it; and I believe this plan answers the purpose very well, though I have seldom if ever tried it. It is not, of course, necessary to give castings every day. But they are generally beneficial, and always, as far as I know, harmless. Some of the old falconers advise not to give castings on days when a hawk has bathed; but I am unable to give the reason for this. Castings are taken daily by wild hawks, which certainly have less need of them than tame ones. And if, through laziness or any other cause, the falconer omits for days in succession to give any, it is pretty certain that his hawk’s crop and stomach will become clogged with a sort of mucus, which will either make her dull, sluggish, and morose, or otherwise impair her general health. Castings should be given rather late in the day than early; and after they have been taken the hawk must always be kept unhooded at about the time when she may be expected to throw them up, i.e. from about the fifth hour after she has swallowed the casting, until she has cast. For this reason, if for no other, when it is intended to train passage hawks in any place, it must always be possible to darken artificially a part of the room, so that hawks can sit there bareheaded on the perch after castings have been given.

Another article which may in a sense be included in the category of diet, is one which will somewhat surprise the reader who has heard nothing about falconry before. This is “rangle,” which is nothing more nor less than small stones or pebbles, swallowed after the manner of castings, and with a similar purpose and effect. After being taken into the crop these exceedingly indigestible delicacies—popularly supposed to be dear to ostriches only—collect around themselves by some special process of attraction a quantity of that same mucus which is apt to accumulate in a hawk’s internal organism. When afterwards they are thrown up—for not even the greediest goshawk will actually assimilate stones—they come up with this oily coating adhering to them, having operated as a sort of emetic, without any of the disagreeable concomitants of physicking with drugs. Why the purpose for which rangle is given cannot be as effectually accomplished by simple castings of feather or fur, I am afraid I cannot explain ; but these latter do not appear to be able to clear the hawk’s inside of the particular kind of superfluous humours which are extracted by the harder substance. Possibly the weight of pebbles causes them to descend farther into the crop, and thus clear it more thoroughly than any such light material as can be given by way of castings. For the small hawks rangle may be given by scattering a few pinches of rather fine gravel on the meat at which they are picking. It is a good plan also to scatter about, close to the blocks of any hawks for which a dose of this kind is thought good, a few stones of a round smooth shape, varying in size from that of a horse-bean for a falcon, to that of a sweet-pea seed for a jack-merlin. The patient often knows instinctively when such a dose is likely to do her good, and swallows one or more of the stones voluntarily. If she does not, and it is thought advisable that she should be dosed whether she likes it or not, the hawk may be cast, and the tasteless pill slipped into her mouth, and pushed down with a small stick. Latham, who was a great stickler for rangle, tells a quaint story of a hawk which he owned. He stuffed her with sixteen stones, which she threw up in due course. The stones were picked up and washed, and put down again near the hawk’s block on the following evening. And every day for a month successively this very accommodating hawk voluntarily picked up and swallowed some dozen of the stones, which were daily collected, washed, and put down again. When a hawk, after moulting, is taken out, or “drawn,” as the old writers call it, from the mews, it is generally beneficial to give her rangle. Hack hawks, when taken up, are often all the better for it; and when a hawk seems dull, or displays dyspeptic symptoms, she may not unfrequently be cured off-hand by the same simple expedient.

Every evening the falconer, having fed up all his hawks (and possibly himself) and noted down in his register what has been killed or done by each of them, should collect all the bodies or pelts of the slain which have not been used as food, and bestow them in a separate place in his larder, so that the results of one day’s campaigning may not get mixed up with those of a previous day, and it may be known how long each unfortunate has been killed. In hot weather no small bird, and very few other things, are fit to be given to a hawk if they have been dead more than twenty-four hours. In the tropics, of course, meat goes bad still more quickly; and at about tiffin-time everything which has been killed earlier than on the same day should be cleared out of the hawks’ larder. If the falconer can get to roost soon after his charges he will think himself fortunate. For the making up of his diary is, on busy days, quite a business in itself. Then it is possible that some accident has occurred. If there has been a broken feather, the damaged hawk must be imped. If one is amiss, measures must be taken for applying the proper remedies. If a jess is worn, it must be replaced. But the worst trouble is if a hawk has been left out. Then the wretched falconer must make up his mind to set forth before daybreak on a long and weary search. But of these pains and griefs, to which the poor man may always be a victim, we shall have to speak in future chapters.

CHAPTER XIV

Hawks in the Field

Half an hour or so before the time appointed for starting to the field, the falconer will begin to hood up those hawks which are to be taken out. Each of them, if in proper order, will jump from the block or the perch to his fist as soon as he extends it within reach. For some of them it will be a very simple matter to slip on a hood; and without further ado they will be placed on the cadge and the leash made fast to it. Others which have only lately completed their training, or which have not yet quite mastered a dislike to the hood, may be first indulged by the production of a tiring, and before or just after they begin to pull at it may be hooded with such dexterity as the operator can boast of. A good hooder is also a quick hooder; but nothing is more likely to make a man bungle his business than to set about it in a hurry at the last moment, just before it is time to start.

The cadge, if a cadge is to be taken out, being placed in a sheltered spot, with its occupants ranged along it and safely attached, all the requisite paraphernalia to be carried must be properly stowed away either in some vehicle or in the falconer’s pouches or pockets. For every person who is to take any active part in the day’s proceedings, it will be well to have a lure which he can easily carry. Each such man should also reserve at least one pocket, unless he wears a pouch, in which he can put a spare hood and a spare leash. When it is expected that a live lure may be required, the bird which is to serve the purpose should be accommodated with comfortable quarters in which he cannot be shaken or knocked about, or be cramped or short of air. The man who carries the cadge must be instructed or reminded as to his duties—how to set down the cadge under the lee of a rick or fence or other shelter, and, having done so, to keep his eyes open, and act as a marker. Some code of signals may generally be agreed upon for informing the cadge man from a distance when he is to go forward with his burden and in what direction. If the party is to include any people who have never been out hawking before, they should be warned as to running or riding in, and requested to stand still whenever a rook or other quarry makes towards them as a shelter from the stoop. The falconer himself should carry a spare leash and hood or two, some string which can be unwound quickly without kinking, and a supply of small coins wherewith to reward farm-labourers or other rustics who, in case of a lost hawk, may give useful information. He should also have a field-block or two, or at least some pegs for pegging down a hawk by her leash, and a certain provision of food for feeding up hawks which may have failed to kill anything, or which are not to be allowed to regale themselves upon the quarry which they may take.

If the place where the hawks are to be flown is close at hand, and there are not more hawks to be taken out than there are men to carry them, a cadge may sometimes be dispensed with altogether, and the light blocks which have been described as field-blocks can be brought instead, taking care that there are enough of them for each hawk (except the one which is for the time being about to be flown) to be supplied with one when it is desired to put her down. In some cases the hawk or hawks may even be taken out bareheaded, as for instance when three merlins are carried by three men, each of whom knows how to manage his part of the day’s business. But in most cases where more than two hawks have to be flown, it will be found best to hood up all except the one which is first to be thrown off. For a hawk which is bareheaded on the fist or on a field-block will bate very much if she sees a flight is going on in which she cannot take part. Moreover, the man who is carrying an unhooded hawk cannot follow a flight freely in which another hawk is engaged, and, after assisting at the start, finds himself obliged to see hawk and quarry sail away out of sight, while compelled to stand almost still, rendering no service even as a marker, and left in the lurch, with a toilsome walk or ride before him, which very possibly he may not accomplish before another flight starts, in which he will have even less part or lot.

In every kind of hawking the marshalling of the field is a most important matter; so much so that success or failure sometimes depends upon the manner in which the quarry has been walked up or approached. For instance, in the pursuit of rooks, gulls, and larks, the chances of a kill are comparatively remote if the quarry is down-wind when the hawk is thrown off. On the other hand, in game-hawking, the pursuer has a much better chance if the first stoop is made down-wind. Consequently, in beating for grouse or partridges, the falconer will start proceedings from the windward edge of his country, and keep the game, as far as he can, always down-wind of his line of beaters; whereas in the other cases the hawking party will begin to leeward, and proceed as nearly as possible with their faces to the wind. In other words, a hawk flown from the fist should be flown up-wind at her quarry, and one which waits on should start down-wind at it. So well established is this principle that when a rook is espied on the ground to leeward, a whole party of mounted men will sometimes make a circuit of a mile in length, in order to make sure of getting the wind of him and giving the falcon a fair chance. When there is anything of a wind, it is advisable for a lark-hawker, after making a beat to windward, to return on his own tracks, with what is called a dead beat, and start afresh on another march parallel to the first, so as to avoid putting up a lark while walking in the wrong direction, and being reduced to the alternative of either letting the merlin go on a sort of fool’s errand, or disappointing and vexing her by holding on to the jesses when she jumps off.

The posting of markers is a matter requiring some skill and care, even in the case where the falconer is well acquainted with his country. It will be found of the greatest possible advantage to have plenty of markers, especially where, as is often the case in game-hawking, all or most of the men are unmounted. Before beginning to try the ground, the falconer should detach men or boys to post themselves down-wind in positions where they can command the most extensive view, and, as it were, guard the approaches to any covert for which the quarry is likely to make. Often it can be predicted with tolerable certainty which plantation a rook or lark will choose as his place of refuge, or at which thick hedge or piece of tall roots or of standing crops a partridge will try to put in. Often, of course, there are two or more spinnies or sheltering-places, either of which may attract the fugitive. If these places are within sight of any marker with a good pair of eyes, he will be able to tell the first comer-up whether the flight ended in either of them, or went on in another direction. Without such information much valuable time may be wasted in searching a covert where neither hawk nor quarry is to be found. Markers are more useful down-wind than up. For in all long flights where the quarry takes the air, he is pretty sure, when hard pressed, to turn in that direction, whilst in game-hawking it is always the object of the beaters to drive the birds down-wind. Any marker, upon seeing a kill or a put-in, should note as accurately as he can the exact spot, and then stand still at his post until he can communicate with one of the field. In open country all markers should remain at a distance of about half a mile from the man carrying the hawk to be flown, and should shift their position rapidly to another vantage-ground whenever the space between them and the hawking party is much diminished or increased.

In rook-hawking the lookers-on must be mounted; and their horses ought either to be very sure-footed or else well acquainted with the ground on which the flights take place, which is often covered with ant-hills, and in places bored by rabbit burrows. If the rider is to see anything of the longest and best flights, his horse must be able to step out in a gallop of a mile or so. In game- and lark-hawking it is less necessary, and often impossible, for the men to be mounted; but in these cases also it is of very great advantage for at least one man to ride, so that he may follow a very long flight with a better chance of keeping the hawk in view. The horseman has a double advantage when the country is uneven. He can go faster, and he can also from his place in the saddle see farther over the brow of a hill or undulation. But ground which undulates in long ridges and valleys is to be mistrusted by falconers. When a flight, commenced in one valley, goes over the ridge which separates it from the next, it is impossible, unless there is a marker on that ridge, to know where it may have ended. Here the falconer, for once in his life, may hope that the ground on the other side is not too open, and that there may be some small covert not far off in which the quarry is pretty sure to have stopped if he got so far. When a hawk goes out of sight over a ridge, the men following on horseback should begin to spread out like a fan, and ride on, keeping a good look-out for anything that may indicate the direction which the flight has taken.

When a flight ends successfully, every person in the field should halt at a hundred yards or so from the place where the hawk is on the ground with the quarry in her foot. The falconer, or whoever it was that threw off the hawk, will use his own judgment as to when he will make in and take her up, and must go alone about this business, which, as we have seen, is sometimes delicate enough. Although it is an unpardonable mistake to make in too quickly, so as to alarm the hawk, yet it is not wise to defer too long the business of taking up. For it is always possible that a stray dog may rush in, or some other accident occur which may frighten the hawk just at the time when you most wish to save her from any such alarm.

If for any reason you wish your hawk to eat her quarry where she has killed, attach the leash to her jesses and to a peg in the ground, or to a field-block, leaving a man to watch her and keep a sharp look-out against intruders. Although in the very open country, where alone the long-winged hawks ought to be flown, there are not many interlopers in the shape of stray dogs or tourists, yet it is wonderful how, with a little bad luck at his heels, the falconer may be annoyed by unexpected intruders. I well remember a valuable hawk being lost on Salisbury Plain, not far from Stonehenge, by the appearance on the scene of an object which one would hardly expect to see there, three miles from the nearest village. The hawk, which was a bit shy to take up, was discussing a well-earned meal upon a heap of stones by the side of a cart-road, when along this road came a nurse-maid with a gaudy-hooded perambulator. She got past the hawk, but not without exciting a large share of its attention. Unfortunately, however, she caught sight of the falconers hurrying up, and then of the hawk, and with that feeling of curiosity which seems to be strongly developed in the genus nurse-maid, turned the perambulator round, and began wheeling it straight towards the hawk. This was altogether too much for the latter. Convinced that some deadly mischief lurked in the strange machine approaching, she picked up the remains of her quarry, and, taking it off with her, could not be afterwards approached.

Only when the falconer is seen to have secured the victorious hawk, and attached the leash to her jesses, is it permitted to the field to go up. When time is precious, and there are a lot of hawks to be flown, the line of march may proceed, leaving the work of taking up the successful hawk to him who flew her; and when the next quarry is put up, the next hawk in order may be thrown off by the man who carries her. Otherwise it is best to get one flight altogether done with before another is started. When the quarry has beaten off his pursuers and got away, a lure or lures must be put in requisition; and one man, if he can be spared, should remain, with lure in hand, near the place where the hawk, if out of sight, was last seen. The others will follow on, more or less quickly, in the direction she seemed to take. All trained hawks have a certain inclination to return after an unsuccessful chase towards the place from which they started in pursuit; and the man to whom the easy duty of standing still is allotted generally has as good a chance of taking up such a hawk as any one of those who have walked or ridden forward.

When the quarry puts in, and the place is known or shrewdly guessed at, generally all the field may participate more or less directly in the work of getting him out. In magpie- and blackbird-hawking, this routing out of the quarry is one of the most animated parts of the day’s proceedings. But everything must be done under the control and direction of the head falconer. An amateur may do more harm than good, nay, may spoil the whole job and disgust the hawk, by blundering on and driving out the half-vanquished fugitive in a wrong direction, or at an ill-chosen moment. The falconer himself learns by long experience many of the little ways of birds that have put in—on which side of a fence they will most likely be found; whether inside a hedge or in the long grass or weeds outside it; which way his head is likely to be turned; and whether he may be expected to jump up readily at a man’s first appearance, or to sit still and allow himself to be taken up in the hand or kicked up with the foot. After a hard flight, in which he was getting much the worst of it, the latter is a likely event; whereas if the hawk was making a poor show, and did not press him hard, he will be more ready to start again with fresh hopes of escape.

Some judgment is sometimes required to decide whether in any particular case it is advisable to drive out quarry which has put in, or to pick him up with the hand, if he will allow this, or to leave him alone altogether. This last alternative is not so unlikely to be preferable as a beginner might imagine. Suppose, for instance, that a very good rook, after a hard flight with a young falcon, has managed to get to a small tree which stands by itself, at a distance of a quarter of a mile or less from a wood or big plantation. The hawk waits on, but rather wide. By sending a boy up into the tree, you think you may most likely get the rook out. Will you do so, or leave him alone, and take down the falcon to the lure? If you rout the rook out, it is about ten to one that he will get safe to the big covert. The hawk, if at all wide when he makes his attempt, will hardly have time in so short a distance to make even one stoop, and far less a fatal one. You will have disappointed her, and perhaps disgusted her greatly with the job of flying at rooks, never the most attractive of quarry. Many a good falconer will prefer to call down the hawk, and, leaving the rook to congratulate himself on his escape, reserve her for a fresh start at a quarry which she will have a fairer chance of catching. In lark-hawking, unless the country is extremely open, cases of this kind often present themselves.

On the other hand, if there is a really good prospect of a successful flight when the fugitive is routed out, it is, of course, very encouraging to the hawk to put him up. Every effort should be made to do this when the hawk is waiting on in a good position, so that, having killed, she may be pleased with the whole performance, including the men’s share in it, and may perhaps imagine that the reason the quarry was got out so conveniently for her was because she waited on well. Hawks, whether waiting on in the air or at perch in a good place, soon get to know very well what the men are about when hunting up a bird that has put in. In the case of merlins, which naturally stand by on the ground while a lark is being searched for, it is almost always better to take them up on the fist as soon as it is determined to pick up or try to capture the quarry. Otherwise the lark, having his wits about him, may take advantage of a moment when the hawk is looking the wrong way, and slip off unseen by her. Moreover, even if she sees him go, she will not start from the ground with so good a chance as from the elevation, small though it is, of your fist. As for sparrow-hawks and goshawks, they may, when a quarry puts in, either be called to the hand or allowed to wait close by at the standpoint which they themselves chose. Many of them prefer the latter plan whenever there is a tree handy, as from it they get a better view and more impetus for their stoop. Lanners, when flown at partridges in an enclosed country, may also be encouraged to go to perch in this way.

There are some occasions when it is quite permissible to capture with the hand a bird which has put in. Suppose that you are carrying a first-rate merlin which is short of work and for which you are particularly anxious to find hard flights and plenty of them. Now, when a lark gets up which is either so young or so deep in the moult that he cannot live long in the air before such a merlin, you are in presence of that very eventuality which you most wished to avoid. There is the prospect of a quick and easy kill, which is about the least likely thing in the world to encourage a hawk to a severe flight afterwards. The best that you can hope for is that the lark, seeing his inferiority, as he is sure to do,—for all wild birds are very good judges of such a matter,—will flop down in front of the hawk—or just behind her, if the first stoop has been avoided—in some place where there is just enough covert for the hawk to be unable to espy and jump upon him. Then, when you come up, the lark, which knows as well as you do what fate awaits him if he gets up again, will be very likely indeed to let you seize him in your hand. Will you, then, let that bad lark go before that good merlin? Not if you have any wish to keep up or improve the excellence of the latter. If you have in the background an inferior hawk to enter, or to encourage after an unsuccessful flight, you may start her at the captured lark, taking great care that she does not know that he has ever been captured. Or you may consign him to a safe place where he will not be damaged, and save him for a time when a bagged lark may be of invaluable service to you as a live lure for a lost hawk. Or what you will probably like best will be to let him go when no merlin is by. Similar cases will occur with other quarry and other hawks; but they are pretty frequent in the case of larks, which at moulting-time differ more than any other birds in their pluck and powers of flying.

When a hawk is new to the work of taking wild quarry she should be allowed to kill it and to break in and eat at least some part of it. But when she is au fait at the business the humane man will often be glad if he can save the victim’s life, and this he will not unfrequently be able to do. Unless the quarry has been struck on the head or has a wing broken, no real damage is at all likely to have been done except in cases where the particular hawk has a specially hard stoop of her own, and is fond of cutting down her quarry instead of binding to it. For herons, gulls, rooks, and larks, after they have been taken, it is often pretty easy for the falconer, if he is up in reasonable time, to substitute the pelt of another bird which has been killed before. As I write this page I hear the singing of a lark in a cage before me which was captured by Jubilee after a long ringing flight, and saved from him while he was recovering his wind.

When it is found necessary to get bagged larks for entering a hobby—I have sometimes used one for entering merlins—they may be obtained in this way. Stick two wattled hurdles into the ground three inches apart and side by side in the middle of a very big field where there are larks. Stuff up the space between the two hurdles with loose straw, all except about a foot at each end. Then take out a merlin and beat the field, driving towards the hurdles. When a lark gets up, if the hawk presses him hard, he will go to the shelter which is so inviting. Then taking down your merlin, and giving her a tiring to amuse her, go and pick out the lark from the straw near one end of the hurdles.

I am aware that some writers—and those of the highest authority—have recommended the use of bagged larks after ringing flights when the quarry has put in and cannot quickly be got out; and that the plan is advocated especially in the case of merlins flown at larks. I venture to think, however, that it is a plan which must be resorted to with very great discretion, and only in extreme cases. The idea, of course, is that the bagged bird, let loose at the place where the wild one was seen to put in, is mistaken for the latter by the hawk, which consequently supposes when she has killed that her victim is the one at which she first started. But does the hawk ever make this mistake? A lark, for instance, which has flown a ringing flight is necessarily a good one, whereas the bagged one—unless by a rare accident you have picked one up just before—is necessarily a poor one and generally a bad one; especially if he has been dragged about in a bag or box for an hour or more. Will the merlin believe that this third- or fourth-rate performer is the same bird which a few minutes ago took her up after him into the clouds? Would you yourself, if you had chased a pickpocket or a welsher for half a mile, mistake his identity five minutes afterwards? And the difference between a good and a bad lark is much greater than the difference between a good and a bad pickpocket!

There are several other objections to letting bagged quarry go as personating the real. For instance, a bad lark is generally taken in the air, and taken easily; and with a lark so taken merlins almost always fly a good way before coming down with them to the ground. There is then the risk of not being able to find them; and at anyrate the hawk has learnt how easy it is to carry her quarry,—a species of knowledge which it is a main object of the falconer not to let her acquire. Of course a light creance may be attached to the bagged bird, and the carrying prevented, but this aggravates the dissimilarity between the sham quarry and the one which was put in. On the whole, considering the difficulties of carrying bagged quarry about, and producing them at the right moment in the right place, I doubt if, in the moulting season at all events, it is wise to attempt the stratagem at all. A hawk which is fast enough and clever enough to make a ringing quarry put in is generally able, in a good country, to take him when he has done so; and, except in a good country, ringing flights should not be attempted. When the moult is over, if any merlins continue to persevere at larks it is possible that the device might be adopted with advantage. The bagged lark would then be given, not with any idea that it will be seriously mistaken for the real quarry, but as a bonne bouche simply, to show the hawk that her prolonged exertions in bringing the quarry down have not been unprofitable to her. At this period the very best hawks, even when flown in casts, will put in ringing quarry in places where they cannot be found, and, if repeatedly so disappointed, will give up that sort of flight; whereas if, when they have beaten the lark in the air, and thus played their fair share in the game, the man can occasionally make a show of playing his part by producing a live quarry in the spot where the real quarry ought to be found, the hawks may accept the situation, though without being really deceived, and persevere. Unfortunately, in these cases how seldom it is that anyone can arrive at the spot in time to thus gratify the hawks! They will, after their intended victim has put in, take their stand close to the place, peeping and prying about, and perhaps trying to “walk it up”; and may there remain for a few minutes. Five minutes is as much as you can at all reasonably expect. How is the man, half a mile behind where the hawks came down, to find and get to them in five minutes? If he catches sight of them at all, it will often be by mere good luck. More often than not his first intimation as to where the flight ended is to be gained by noticing from which direction the hawk came to her lure. For as soon as the hawk engaged in a flight goes out of sight, either in the sky or over a ridge, or by reason merely of the distance to which she has gone, the lure should be produced, and kept in evidence as long as the search is continued.

In finding a hawk after a long flight it is useful to bear in mind a few hints which experience has taught. Of course in the case of the bigger hawks the bell is an invaluable guide. The hawker’s ear should be always ready to catch the faintest sound of this well-known tell-tale. But merlins seldom or never wear bells in the field. It will be well, therefore, to give some brief directions as to finding these little hawks. These will be useful also in searching for others when not found by the bell. The person who was nearest to the hawk when she went out of sight will get on as fast as he can to the place over which he last saw her in the air, and may with advantage give notice to others following behind by holding up a hand or making any other signal that has been agreed upon. He will then, if there is a marker within hail, shout or signal a demand for information. If none is forthcoming, he will note with his eye the coverts or places of refuge on ahead of him, and consider which of them was most probably the destination of the quarry. The most likely is certainly the one which lies in a straight line with the course which the two birds were taking; and the next most likely is the nearest in an oblique direction on the down-wind side. If the place which seems most likely should be a plantation, copse, or spinny, let him then, by tracing an imaginary straight line over the intervening ground, decide which is the nearest part of this covert—irrespective of wind—to the spot whereon he stands. In this spot, and no other, the quarry will probably have put in. So constant is this choice by a lark of the very nearest bush in any thicket, that, after searching it thoroughly without success, I should be inclined to leave that plantation altogether and try some other place of shelter. If the hawk has killed, she will be either in the covert or somewhere not far off, where she may have taken her victim to devour him in the open, free from the danger of unwelcome intruders, who in any thick place might come up unawares. Such a spot will generally be tolerably conspicuous. A mound of earth, a heap of stones, a ridge of raised turf or ant-hill is often chosen. When the ground is wet, merlins and hobbies will sometimes carry their quarry a long way merely in the hope of finding a dry place whereon to deplume and devour it. I have known a merlin carry nearly half a mile on a very hot day in order to get under the shade of a distant tree.

Many minutes will elapse between the time when the quarry has been taken and the moment when the hawk has completely finished her repast. Accordingly, the search may be prolonged for at least half an hour before the chance of success is given up and the hawk pronounced “lost” for the time being. Some hawks when in high condition will not break in to their quarry or even plume it before their master or some other person comes up, but, after killing it, stand expectant, looking round about them, and apparently in a sort of brown study, forgetful that such a thing as hunger exists. Some are even so little eager to begin upon the excellent meal which is before them, that they will jump from it to the fist as soon as it is within reach. I have known a merlin fly her best at a mounting lark, take it after a hard flight, and descend with it to a heap of stones. Lighting a cigar, and sitting down beside a neighbouring rick to wait for her to break in, I have seen her presently go off unconcernedly to another resting-place with nothing in her feet, and, walking up to the heap of stones, have found the lark lying there, dead and unplucked. The hawk must have been flying almost uniquely out of love for the sport, and not with a view to satisfying any hunger which she felt at the time; nor is this the only time that I have known such a thing occur.

As a rule, however, trained hawks in high fettle are very far from preferring a journey to the fist or the lure to devoting their attention to wild quarry. Much more often the difficulty is to persuade them that for the moment they must return to their place on the hand in order that they may be provided with what they are hankering after—another flight. Almost all hawks which are in the habit of constantly killing and being fed up upon wild birds develop a passion for sport, and will not easily, when once they have been thrown off, abandon the idea that they are to kill something before they come back. It is for this reason that I have advocated the frequent practice of flying merlins to the lure and sparrow-hawks to the fist, not only when the hawk is not to be used in the field, but when she is. Few things are more vexatious than the delay which occurs when a hawk, however good in other respects, is bad at the lure, and keeps the whole field waiting until it is her good pleasure to come down. Such performers as Queen and Sis, and the famous rook-hawk Bois-le-Duc, which fly for a week or more, killing daily without any miss, are in danger of quite forgetting what a lure is like, unless they are exercised to it for mere practice from time to time. Here, again, the question of dieting will be found to be of much importance. A hawk may be ready enough to fly wild quarry long before she is ready to come to the lure. An extra hour of fasting on the one hand, or an extra ounce of food on the other, may make all the difference in the alacrity of the hawk when required to come down.

In spite of all the falconer’s care, there will be times when a hawk stands obstinately at perch, refusing contemptuously to come, or perhaps even to look, at the dead lure. On such occasions, if time is valuable, it may sometimes be expedient to resort to the live lure. This, however, should always be regarded as a last resource. If reserved for special occasions it will never fail to bring down the most disobedient offender, but if live lures are commonly used they lose part of their efficacy, and are apt to become almost as much despised as the ordinary dead ones. Of course when live lures are used pains will be taken to make the process as little disagreeable as possible to the creature whose life is risked. When a pigeon is employed, as it almost always is for any of the big hawks, a pair of soft and broad jesses should be attached to its legs, and the ends of those to a strong but fine cord or creance, or a noose of soft cord may be passed round each leg by means of the double-ring knot shown in Figs. 26, 27.

When the pigeon (or lark or other bird) is thrown up it should be allowed to fly a short distance, then gently stopped by the creance and allowed to alight on the ground. As the hawk comes at it, it can be jerked away with a steady pull, and, as the hawk throws up, it can be secured and hidden, while a dead pigeon of the same colour is thrown down in its place. No great amount of dexterity is required to execute this little manœ]uvre. The hawk will be taken up on the dead bird, and the live one liberated or returned to its dovecot none the worse for its perilous adventure. It is only when the falconer bungles his part of the business that the live lure is struck and either killed or hurt.

For sparrow-hawks or merlins, when they decline to come down, and stand waiting for the chance of another flight, another device may sometimes be employed with a view to saving time. There has been an unsuccessful flight, and the little hawk goes to perch upon a rick, neglectful of the proffered fist or lure. She came out, as she has made up her mind, to taste blood, and blood she means to have, if she has to wait for it till sundown. As you cannot afford to wait her good pleasure till then, you may settle the matter by a sort of compromise. Leave her to herself upon the rick, and walk the surrounding country until you put up the quarry of which she is so much in want. By driving the fields or hedges constantly towards her you may beat a considerable extent of ground. If you draw it blank go on a little farther. As the hawk sees you beginning to beat that farther country, ten to one she will come on after you and take up her position on a fresh resting-place nearer the scene of your operations. You may go on thus sometimes for quite a long walk, the hawk not, indeed, standing on your fist in orthodox style, but keeping in a place where she can start at anything you put up with a fair chance of overtaking it. As soon as anything so put up has been taken, you pick up your rebellious hawk in the same way as if she had flown from the fist, and, if you are wise, you do not give her a big crop. In the case of merlins there is another plan: you may fly another hawk while the first is sulking or fooling away her time on her self-selected perch. The latter will indubitably join in when you throw off the hawk on your fist, and you will have a double flight, after which, if it ends in a kill, you will be able to take up both hawks easily enough.

In theory, after every unsuccessful flight the hawk ought to observe certain fixed rules of conduct. Peregrines and almost all other long-winged hawks ought first to throw up over the place where the quarry has put in, and then wait on a while for the falconer to come up. Short-winged hawks, and often lanners, should take perch as near as they conveniently can to the quarry’s place of refuge; and merlins will get still nearer, very often waiting on the ground within a few feet of the hidden lark. From these various situations they ought, if in proper order, to be ready to come whenever the falconer wishes—to the fist if they are short-winged, to the lure if long-winged. It is also, alas! possible that they may have failed through being outflown—beaten fairly in the air. Directly the falconer sees, by the spreading of the hawk’s wings, that this sad event has occurred, he will begin to swing his lure, and in such case my lady ought—and generally will—at once rally to headquarters. The young falconer should endeavour from the first to keep his charges in such condition that they will always come to the lure. If, at the same time, they are keen enough to do this and high-fed enough to do themselves justice in a hard flight, they may be called really well trained. Here lies the real difficulty of hawking—to strike the balance justly between too servile obedience and too disdainful independence. Every day, and with every hawk, whether eyess or passager, the falconer is confronted with it, only in the case of passagers it is naturally more obvious. Wild-caught hawks are only brought by degrees, and with a good deal of trouble, to really like the dead lure, whereas to most eyesses their first notion of working for their living is connected with the slight trouble of flying either to the lure or to the hack board. Yet of the two it is much more essentially necessary that the passage hawk should come down quickly after failing in a flight, for if she does not, she will hang about for a more or less limited time near the spot where she lost her intended prey. And every additional minute that she stays out alone, especially if out of her master’s sight, she is being reminded more and more of her old life at large. Then, if even she does not go soaring or prowling about in the deliberate search for quarry, she may espy some passing wood-pigeon or other too tempting bird, and be off in pursuit before any of the hawking party are near enough to keep her in sight. And a passage hawk which has flown and fed herself on her own account is, of course, much less likely to be recovered than an eyess, to which real liberty is a blessing hitherto unknown. With the latter the balance of danger lies often on the side of making them too fond of the lure.

The falconer should have with him in the field a pencil and small notebook, or at the least a card, upon which he can jot down a brief note or record of each flight, so that on his return home he can enter in his quarry-book a summary of the day’s sport. The performances of each hawk should also be recorded in this book, as it is only by reference to this authentic volume, correctly kept day after day, that it can be known and remembered how she has acquitted herself. On the chance that it may be useful as a specimen, I give here an extract from the quarry-book which I keep, and which has been found to record pretty fully and in an exceedingly small space the chief points of interest in every day’s proceedings. The first column gives the month and the name of each hawk, the second and following columns give the numbers of the days of the month and the scores made by each hawk. The units mean that a flight was successful, the zeros that it was not. When a fraction, such as ½, occurs it signifies that the hawk flew double, in company with another, and that the flight ended in a kill. The sign ％ stands for a double flight in which the quarry escaped. L means that a hawk was lost or left out, and C that she was recovered. At the foot may be a short note as to the day’s weather.

September. 1 2 3 4

Eva ... 1 1 1 0 ½ 1 1 0 1 1 1

May ... 1 1 1 ½ 0 1 0 ¾ 0 1 1

Ruy Lopez 0 L ... C 1 0 0 ¼ 1

Wind Gale. ½ Gale. High. Moderate.

It is convenient also, and not at all troublesome, to keep a daily record of the flights and kills up to date. Such a score will read as follows:—

1883. Eva. May. Ruy Lopez. Total.

Sept. Flights. Kills. Flights. Kills. Flights. Kills. Flights. Kills.

1 43 34 51 33 40 28 134 95

2 46 37 54 36 40 28 140 101

3 48½ 38½ 56½ 37½ 41 29 146 105

4 53½ 42½ 61 39½ 44½ 30½ 159 112½

Or the double flights may be recorded separately, which is perhaps a better plan. In the general score I mark ½ to each hawk which has done any work in a double flight, although in the individual score for the day the fraction set opposite her name may be a larger or smaller one, according as she has done a larger or smaller proportion of the work.

In the same book which contains such tables it is well to write down some account of any flights which seem to deserve particular notice, as well as notes as to the behaviour of the hawks, their state of health and condition, and any physic which has been administered to them. In fact the book may be made not only a bald record of mere results, but a running commentary upon your sport as it proceeds, to which you may refer not only for pleasant memories in the past, but for hints and warnings for the future.

In lark-hawking the character of the flights is so different, as has already been explained, that a record of them is hardly complete unless it contains some further indications than appear in the above tables. I add, therefore, a specimen of a score kept in rather fuller form, which, although it may seem rather elaborate in print, is simple and easy enough to keep when in manuscript. Here the lines reserved for each hawk must be somewhat larger than in the other table, so that each unit standing on a line with the hawk’s name may have a letter or indication of some kind placed immediately above or below it. The method of keeping such a record may be best illustrated by explaining it in detail.