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 thisvery 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 maygenerally 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 remoteif 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 unpardonablemistake 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 seemedto 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 atrooks, 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, seeinghis 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 isau faitat 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 footat 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 toattempt 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 abonne bouchesimply, 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 shewent 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 withinreach. 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 upyour 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 ofher 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.Lmeans that a hawk was lost or left out, andCthat she was recovered. At the foot may be a short note as to the day’s weather.
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:—
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.
Here, taking the first hawk’s score, it appears that on the afternoon of September 1 she took one ground lark (G) (seeChapterIX.). Secondly, that she flew a ringing lark (R), which she beat in the air, forcing it to put in (p), and that it could not be found or got up again, and therefore does not count as a kill, but as a miss. Thirdly, that she flew and killed another ringer, and that after these two hard flights she was not flown again, but fed up. The next day, the wind being strong, she began with a double flight at a mounting lark, in which Ruby was her companion, and they bested the quarry, which put in, but could not be found; then flew a mounting lark (M), and took it in the air (a); and then a ground lark, which put in, but was routed up and taken. Finally, having killed a ringer, she was fed up and excused further flying. On September 3 the weather conditions were better, and in the afternoon Pearl flew a mounting lark, which put in, and was taken up by the hand (h). Had it been a good ringer probably it would have been kicked up instead, on the chance of a good flight; and if killed, the hawk might have been fed up. As, however, it was only a “mounter,” it was thought best to keep the hawk for the chance of a ringer later on. The second lark, however, was also a mounter, and the hawk, having taken it in the air, was flown againThen came a ringer, which was well flown, and bested in the air, but escaped by putting in. At length there was a successful flight at a ringer, which, however, was not killed until it had been routed out from the shelter to which it had put in, and afforded a second flight. The doubleRRover the record of this item in the score shows that at the second start as well as the first the flight was a ringing one.
Ruby’s score begins on the morning of September 1 with a double flight at a mounting lark, in which he did most of the work, and took the quarry in the air. He is therefore credited with ¾ of the lark, to mark his superiority, whereas only ¼ is scored to Diamond, who was his companion in the flight. In the afternoon he puts in a mounter, which is lost, kills a ground lark, and then puts in another mounter, which is routed out, but puts in again, and is only taken when driven out a second time from his hiding-place. Having stuck to this lark well, and accurately marked the places where he put in, the little jack is excused from further flying. Next day he begins with the unsuccessful flight which he flew with Pearl. Then he takes a mounter in the air, and at the next attempt goes up so far after a first-rate ringer that no one can keep him in sight. As this lark was obviously making for a big plantation towards which the flight went, and as the hawk, though usually obedient to the lure, did not come to it or appear again, it is almost certain that he must have killed. The fairest way in such cases is to mark the flight by a (?), and not count it either as a kill or a miss in the general score. TheLshows that Ruby was left out, and the (1) on the following morning shows that it was ascertained in some way that while roaming about on his own account he killed (and ate) a lark. TheCindicates his recovery late in the day; and the manner of his recapture, of course, is referred to in the notes.
Diamond’s first item is the ¼ credited to him for the part he played in the double flight with Ruby. He goes on by killing a ringer in the morning; and for his pains is rewarded with a good half of it, being then reserved for the last of the afternoon’s flights, when the half-lark may have ceased to trouble his digestive organs. In the evening he puts in first a mounter and then a ringer, and then having with some difficulty and after a long flight killed a good mounter, is fed up just before it gets dark. On the morrow he falls in with two ground larks in succession, and kills them both. Hitherto, ever since the double flight with Ruby, in which he was outpaced, he has been doing well.Though not a fast hawk he has persevered and bested all his larks in the air, though he has put them in so far off that it was difficult to find them. But now he is to disgrace himself by showing the white feather. He starts at a good ringer, but, finding it too fast for him, comes back humbly to the lure. The little (a), which is a mark of honour when seen under a kill, is a terrible blemish to a score when found under a “duck’s egg”—showing that not the quarry but the hawk has been beaten in the air. After this sad exhibition Diamond is fed up, and examined to see whether by some mistake he has perchance been allowed to get thin. If he has, there is an excuse for his poltroonery. Anyhow he will be well fed now, and if he does not fly better to-morrow physicking may be advisable. A medical council must be held over his case. On the next day, however, he re-establishes his character. Lighting at the first trial upon a ringer, he sticks to it like a man, puts it in, and then takes it cleverly enough. Of course after this success, following upon the fiasco of yesterday, he is at once fed up. Peeping a little behind the scenes we may, it is true, suspect that the ringer, though quite properly marked so in the score-sheet, would not have figured as such if Pearl had had to deal with him instead of Diamond. He would have tried to take the air, certainly, and mounted as if intending to go up in circles. But Pearl would have been up to him before he completed the first ring, and from that moment, keeping the upper hand of him, she would have given him trouble enough to shift from her stoops without nursing any such ambition as to fly right away from her.
A score-sheet thus kept gives at a glance an excellent idea of the performances of the hawks referred to. As their several scores are usually kept on the same page in successive lines, a comparison between them can be readily made at any time; and if a period of two or three weeks is taken, the best average made in the time will usually belong to the best hawk. If only a week or less is brought into the account, it may easily be that a very good hawk by a run of bad luck scores fewer kills and makes a lower average than a more moderate performer. The true test of merit is the ringing flights; and if these alone are considered, the result of an analysis will infallibly settle the question which is the better hawk. Thus in the score last above given, there is no difficulty in perceiving that Pearl, who killed three ringers out of five, and put in the other two, was a much better hawk during the short period under notice thanDiamond, who killed two out of four and failed once to put his ringer in. The mere number of quarry killed in a season is not a conclusive test of merit; for it is more creditable to a hawk to kill one ringer than half a dozen ground larks. The greatest number of larks I have killed in one season with any hawk in single flights is 106. But Jubilee, who accomplished this feat, was certainly not so good as his sister, Queen, who killed 95 in the same time. Nor was the latter—I think—as good as Eva, who killed only about 65.
The same method of scoring might be, with some adaptation, used for rook-hawks, and possibly for game-hawks. The short-winged varieties are usually flown at such a number of different quarry that another system would have to be employed. But in all cases the quarry-book should be a sort of diary in which may be traced the history of each hawk as she improved from time to time or fell off in merit. The less experience the falconer has the fuller he should make his notes. Both in making them and in referring to them questions will arise about which he is in doubt; and practice alone, or timely hints from a master in the art, will solve the difficulties. Any falconer who has kept diaries for any long period will find that at the end of it he has altered several of the methods which he practised at the beginning. It requires some time and trouble, no doubt, to write up the notes every day. But, as it has been before observed, no one can expect without a good deal of toil to become a successful falconer.
It will be seen by a look at the score-sheet, as well as by perusing any falconer’s notes, that first-rate results are arrived at partly by the excellence of the hawks flown and partly by the activity and diligence of the falconer and his assistants. It is no use for a falcon to bring down her ringing rook from the clouds, or a merlin her lark from out of sight in the sky, if when the quarry has put in there is no man forthcoming to drive it out again. The sparrow-hawk will make but a poor show unless she is backed up energetically by an excited field of beaters; and tiercels will soon give up flying magpies with any zest if they find that their friends down below are slack or incompetent in playing their part of the game. You think yourself entitled to grumble at your hawk, and perhaps call her ugly names, if just at the moment you call upon her she does not fly her best. Do you not think that she also is aggrieved if you at the same time, chosen as it is by you, do not give her the necessary amount of help? Incapacity or laziness on the part of a man or a dogprovokes the contempt and disgust of a trained hawk, who is often a much better critic in such matters than the ignorant may suppose. Be careful, therefore, if you want to retain the respect of your hawk, not to give her just cause to complain of you; not to be slow when you should be quick, or hasty when caution or deliberation is needed; not to seem inattentive to her fair and just requirements. And above all, not to commit in her presence anything which she knows is a gross mistake—in short, not to make a fool either of yourself or her.
CHAPTER XV
Lost Hawks
After a day of unsuccessful flights the falconer returning sadly with his discouraged hawks may derive some consolation from the thought that he has at least brought them all safe back. On the other hand, the triumphs of the most successful afternoon are a good deal marred when one of the best performers has been left out, and the quarry-book has to be noted up, opposite her name, with the unpleasant word “lost.” Foremost amongst the dangers and difficulties which beset the falconer, more plentifully than any other sportsman, is the risk which constantly hangs over him of losing the faithful ally upon whose service he depends for carrying on his sport. Every time that he puts a hawk upon the wing he has to face this contingency, which is more or less probable according to the nature of the flight which is attempted. No questions are more often addressed by the uninitiated to a falconer than these: “How do you get your hawks back?” and “Do they always come to you?” If he is rash enough to answer the last query in the affirmative he may be utterly confounded by having to confess that the very next time he flew his hawk she did not come back! Of course, in exercising an obedient hawk when she is sharp-set the risk run is infinitesimally small. But it would be wrong even then to say that it does not exist. And unfortunately the harder the flight undertaken, and the better the hawk, the greater is the danger which her owner has to face.
It is unnecessary to enumerate the many causes which may lead to the loss of a hawk. They have been mentioned incidentally in many of the foregoing pages. But it is well to remember that a very large percentage of the losses which annually occur is due to mere carelessness on the part of the falconer. As long as you make no mistake, and give your hawks a fair chance, the danger of an out-and-out loss isreduced to very moderate dimensions. The worst cases, as well as the commonest, are those in which the man is blamable for some imprudence, and not the hawk for any vice or fault. A much greater number of hawks annually get loose with the leash still attached to their jesses than anyone would be likely to suppose. Whenever such a mishap occurs a search should instantly be made for the fugitive, for every minute which elapses between the time of her loss and her recovery makes it more probable that she will not again be seen alive. The long tail of the leash becomes a sort of death-trap affixed to the hawk herself. As often as she takes perch in a tree, or flies over a telegraph-wire, or near to anything around which the hanging strap can coil itself, there is the chance of its getting entangled, in which case the hawk, hanging head downwards will, after many struggles, perish ignominiously, perhaps before the eyes of her helpless owner.
Even if the leash is not attached when the hawk gets away, or luckily drops out of the swivel, there is no little danger that the jesses, joined together at their ends by the swivel, will get hitched up, and a similar disaster result. All accidents which occur in this way are due to sheer carelessness. No hawk should ever be put upon the wing at all unless her swivel has first been detached. Even the jesses, if they have big slits in their ends, should be straightened out when they have been freed from the swivel, so that there is no chance of their getting hooked up on a nail or strong thorn.
On the first intelligence that a trained hawk has got loose, the falconer should start in pursuit, provided with a dead lure in any case, and, if the hawk was not sharp-set at the time, with a live lure also. The more searchers that can be sent out, the better; and these should make inquiries of every person they meet. Any of them who are not competent to take up a hawk themselves may carry a whistle, or pistol, or any signal agreed upon, by which they may call up the falconer if they get tidings or a view of the truant. In the latter case they must take care not to alarm the hawk or give her any inducement to move about, for each time she moves she runs a fresh risk of getting entangled and brought to grief. The search for a hawk which has a leash or swivel attached is not altogether the same as the search for one that has only her bells and jesses. For the fear is now not that the runaway, having tasted the sweets of liberty, will little by little acquire or resume the habits of a wild hawk, but that, being still as ready as ever to come to the lureor the fist, she will involuntarily commit suicide by hanging herself head downwards before you have time to find her and interfere. Thus the searchers will go about their work with all the speed consistent with thoroughness, visiting first the places where there is most danger of a fatal disaster, such as wire fencing, telegraph lines, and such bushy or thorny trees as the lost hawk has ever been known to frequent. In an open country loose hawks with their leashes on will sometimes escape with their lives for days together, and even kill quarry, and keep themselves in high condition. These, however, are the exceptions; and in a wooded country such a fortunate issue to the adventure would be unlikely.
When the loss of a hawk has occurred in consequence of her having killed out of sight, and gorged herself before she could be discovered, the chances are that she will remain for the night in the neighbourhood of the place where she flew the quarry upon which she dined. A visit will be paid, therefore, next morning at daybreak to this part of the country; and the falconer must not assume that if he fails to find quickly the object of his search she is to be looked for somewhere else. For it is unlikely, wherever she is, that she will pay any attention to him or his lure until she has cast. This she may not do, especially if it was late in the previous day when she was lost, until some hours after a spring or summer sunrise. Consequently, even if the searcher gets away from this most likely spot, and explores the plantations for considerable distances round about, he should return to it from time to time, on the chance that she has been there all the while, waiting till her appetite came before making her presence known. As the day grows older, the radius within which the search is continued may be indefinitely enlarged. Every labourer going to his work, every farmer going his rounds, every shepherd walking towards his fold, should be interrogated when met, and asked, if they see anything of the lost hawk, to report it in some way. The neighbouring keepers may be warned, although probably they will long before this have been informed that trained hawks are in the neighbourhood. A man will hardly fly his hawks in a part of the world where he does not know that the keepers are to be relied upon.
When the hawk has been lost through raking away or checking at chance quarry, the work of finding her necessitates often very great exertions and fatigue. There is nothing particularly unusual in the fact of a passage peregrine wandering off in anafternoon seven or eight miles from the place where she was lost sight of. To explore at all thoroughly an area eight miles long and ten broad at the far end means, of course, a great many miles travelling, even if the country is exceptionally open and clear of trees. Nevertheless, the dull and dreary journey must be undertaken if there is a real desire to recover the wanderer. The best hawk-finder is he who travels the farthest and sees the greatest number of possible assistants in his search. If you make an excuse for shirking a visit to a particular copse or valley, it is as likely as not that you will hear afterwards, to your chagrin, that the missing hawk was seen there, and might easily have been caught. If you will not walk a quarter of a mile out of the way to hail a passer-by who is going in what you think an unlikely direction, that will perhaps be the very man who, ten minutes afterwards, comes across the object of your pursuit.
There is not much to guide a man in choosing what direction he should prefer for going about his search. But, other influences being equal, the truant is more likely to have gone down-wind than up. Weak hawks especially, when they have no particular object in facing the wind, are apt to shirk the trouble of flying against it, and drift away to leeward. Of course, if it is an eyess that has gone astray, and the place where she was hacked is within easy reach, there is a more or less strong probability that she may have gone towards it. Eyess hobbies, when lost, are said almost invariably to go back to the hack place in this way. Merlins have been known to do so, though not within my own experience. But a really strong and fast hawk, in full flying order, seems often to assume almost at once the rôle of a wild one. Such a hawk, especially if fond of soaring, soon sees that there will be little difficulty in finding her own living. And she sets about it without any particular influence to guide her, starting in whatever direction chance may decide, and shifting her ground as capriciously as it is possible to imagine. When Tagrag, already mentioned, was out, he would be reported one night in a certain plantation, and early the next morning would be seen three or four miles off on the opposite side of the small village where he ought to have been housed, and where his brothers were (or ought to have been) lamenting his absence from the screen-perch.
Farm-houses and all habitations near the spot where a hawk was lost should be visited without delay. Not only are they generally frequented by either pigeons or fowls, towards whicha stray peregrine or goshawk may well cast a hungry glance, but their shelter is always a tempting haven for any wandering house-pigeon which may have been chased and bested in the air. As the falconer proceeds from place to place, swinging his lure and calling or whistling, if it is his custom to use such means of bringing up his hawk, he should note the behaviour of the rooks and other birds within sight The presence of any hawk, especially if carrying a bell, causes some excitement amongst the feathered world. The unwarlike wanderers of the air, when an armed cruiser comes in sight, exhibit some such signs of panic as might be expected of a fleet of merchantmen if a hostile battleship were viewed in the offing. The symptoms most remarkable are generally those observed in a flight of rooks, which often begins to whirl about in the air, as if it were composed of escaped lunatics, shooting up and wheeling suddenly in unexpected directions, filling the air at the same time with discordant croaks and screams, and with big black specks, which hurl themselves about as if driven by impulses which they themselves cannot understand or control. But many other birds, by their strange movements and queer attitudes, will betray the near presence of a hawk to whose visits they are unaccustomed. When a hawk has killed anything, and is pluming or eating it, crows, magpies, and jays have a way of sitting on the top of a neighbouring tree, craning their necks, and peering down with a morbid curiosity as they watch an operation of which they strongly disapprove.
Rooks, starlings, and small birds are all fond of mobbing a strange hawk when they think they can do it with impunity, and swallows occasionally indulge in the same rather adventurous amusement. It is therefore often worth while to make adétourand investigate, whenever any bird seems to be engaged in eccentric and unusual movements. Of the thousand and one causes which may have given rise to such vagaries, only the most practised eye can determine which are likely to be connected with the appearance of the lost hawk, and which are not. The safest plan is to go up and make sure that the commotion is not to be explained in this way. Of course when a hawk has been in the habit of flying any particular quarry, a disturbance amongst birds of that species is more likely to arise from her presence than in other cases. But most peregrines, when they are at large, are fond of taking occasional shots at lapwings, though very seldom with success. Merlins, though they are most partial to skylarks, will make stoops at any bird whichthey suppose they can tackle, from a wood-pigeon to a wren; and the short-winged hawks are, of course, almost always ready for any bloodthirsty adventure.
Fortunately stray hawks, at least of the long-winged kinds, do not usually betake themselves to thick places where they cannot easily be seen. In open countries, where alone they should be flown, there is no great choice for them of convenient perching-places. Probably the most likely of all stations for them to take up are the tops of ricks; and here a peregrine, or even a merlin, can be distinguished at a great distance by a pair of good field-glasses. As a rule, the best hawks like the highest perches, where they can command, as from a watch-tower, the farthest view of the country over which they hope for a chance flight. A hawk which takes perch on low railings or on the ground is not usually much of a performer. Some of these are very fond of perching on fallow-fields, where it is almost impossible for an unpractised eye to distinguish their plumage against the colour of the ground. A knowledge of their ways will make the falconer aware that in such a field, however apparently flat, there will be either mounds or small peaks and projections of earth where clods have been unevenly turned up, which a hawk is sure to choose as a resting-place in preference to the surrounding ground for some distance on every side. The predilections of each of his hawks for particular kinds of perching-places will generally have been noted to some extent by the falconer, who will naturally look for each of them on the sort of stand which he knows that she most often prefers. Trees, while still leafy, are some of the worst places in which to have to search, and of course they are very common resorts. A lost hawk may be watching her pursuers as unseen as King Charles in the oak, and not deigning to come down to the most enticing dead lure, until, having cast, she feels an inclination to do so.