stag after an exciting stalk. After seeing the stag safely put
on the pony in charge of the gillie, the stalker and I set off
towards the farther end of the beat in the hope of getting a second
stag. Not far from the march, on precipitous ground covered with
rough boulders of rock, we spied a good stag with a large number
of hinds. The deer were in an awkward position, and we found that
it was impossible to get nearer to them than about 200 yards. The
day was getting late, therefore this was probably our only chance.
The stag was moving about and might very soon be over the march, so
that there was no time to be lost. Getting quickly into the best
position I could, I fired, and evidently hit the stag very hard.
Directly I fired the deer disappeared as if by magic. The stalker
said he was quite certain the stag could not go far. On reaching
the spot on which the stag had been standing when I fired we found
marks of blood, and had no difficulty in following these for some
50 yards, by which time we were close to the march, and in full
view of a large corrie and other ground, all of which was in the
neighbouring forest. We saw what were evidently some of the hinds
making off across the march, but the stag and the rest of the
hinds were nowhere to be seen. We moved a little farther on where
we could get a view of other ground, when suddenly there was a
tremendous clatter of loose stones, and we saw the stag and some
twenty hinds about 120 yards from us. The deer stopped for a few
seconds, the stag looking straight at us, and then away they went.
We ran quickly to the point where they had disappeared, and saw the
hinds we had last seen with the stag going in the direction which
the other hinds had previously taken, but the stag was not with
them. “He cannot go far,” said the stalker. The ground was very
much broken up by large stones and boulders, and we both thought
that the stag must be lying hidden not far from us. We were quite
certain from the position we were in that we could not have failed
to see him unless he had turned back below the hill and gone into
the forest from which we had come. We noticed the hinds stopping
every now and then and looking back, as they so often do when one
of their number has been wounded and is behind them. By following
the marks of blood on the stones we traced the course the stag had
taken for about 200 yards, but after that we lost the tracks. We
made the most careful search, and the stalker went some distance
into the adjoining forest, but all in vain. The light was beginning
to go, and at last we decided to give up the search, for that day
at any rate. The stalker, who had had his glass on the stag when I
had fired at him, said he was quite sure from what he saw then and
from the way that the stag was bleeding that he had been mortally
wounded and could not live long. I felt very much depressed, for
if there is one thing that distresses me more than another it is
to leave a wounded stag on the ground; and though I thought that
the stalker with his experience was right in thinking that the stag
could not live long, particularly as I knew my rifle and felt sure
that I must have hit the stag somewhere not far from the heart,
the fact remained that one could not be quite sure what had really
happened. This was the last day of the season, and I was leaving
on the following morning. The stalker promised me that he would
search the ground on the following day, and that he would also
tell the stalkers in the neighbouring forest, and that if he heard
anything of the stag he would let me know. “I shall certainly know
the head if it is ever found,” he said, “for when the stag looked
straight at me I could see the space between his forks at the top.
It was a ten-pointer, I think; the points were very regular, but
as far as the head goes it is not much to grieve over, for it was
on the narrow side.” “Still, it is a bad business,” I replied. “If
we only had had a tracker we should certainly have got him without
any trouble.” A really reliable tracker is indeed invaluable on an
occasion of this kind, but it is only in a few forests that dogs
are now used in following wounded stags. The noble deer-hounds
which were the trusty allies of our fathers on the hill have during
the last forty or fifty years been replaced in those forests where
dogs are still used by the golden retriever, or more often by the
collie, the two dogs last mentioned having been found more suitable
for pursuing wounded deer. The deer-hound was so high-couraged that
he would not bay the stag, but would pull him down or be killed by
him. A further objection was that he would hunt by sight rather
than by scent, it not being in his nature to put his nose to the
ground, and it was therefore practically impossible to train him as
a tracker.
[Illustration: “THE TRUSTY ALLIES OF OUR FATHERS ON THE HILL.”
From the Picture “After a Hard Day” by PHILIP STRETTON.
By permission of Messrs. Landeker & Brown, Ltd. London, E.C.2,
Publishers of the large engraving.]
I heard no more of the wounded stag until the following season,
when I once more found myself in the same forest. I asked the
stalker whether he had any news of the stag. He said: “That is a
question. The stalkers in the other forest never found any stag,
but a very curious thing has happened. About 20 yards inside the
fence, at the nearest point in that part of the forest which is
fenced in from where you shot the stag, that would be about a
distance of three miles, the skeleton of a stag was found last
April. The head stalker on that part of the forest tells me he
is quite sure it was not a stag that was shot inside the fence.
I have got the head here, and will show it to you.” I examined
it carefully. It was a good regular head of ten points, with
remarkably long forks at the top, and I thought it looked a better
head than that of the stag I had shot, and said so to the stalker.
He replied: “It is the same shape, and I well remember noticing the
space between the forks at the top. Not only that, but in April
when we found him there were no stags on that part of the ground
and had not been for some time; also by the bleached condition of
the horns, I am quite sure he must have died in October or early
in November, and he could not have died a natural death after the
winter was over. And as to his getting through the fence, at that
season of the year stags have a wonderful way of getting through
a fence if they want to do so. If he was mortally wounded after
he got outside he would be sure to go back to the place where he
was born and knew he was safe, and depend upon it he would find
his way back through the fence where he got out. One can never be
sure, but on the whole I think he is the stag you shot. You see
the only way he could have gone that day without our seeing him
was out of sight round that hill in the direction of the fenced-in
part of the forest. I am sure he was mortally wounded, he had seen
us; and after seeing us, being wounded, he would go straight on, as
you know, so long as his strength would carry him and he would go
straight to his old home. They’re wonderful in that way, deer are:
I shall never forget how I was taught that years ago when I was out
with the young chief at X.”
I asked the stalker to tell me the story, which I give in his own
words: “About twelve years ago, when I was a gillie at X, I was
out one day with the chief’s son late on in the season, about the
end of the first week in October. About 2 o’clock in the afternoon
we saw a Royal stag and some hinds above the black shed, between
the lodge and the second stalker’s house, and after a successful
stalk, he fired but wounded the stag, just grazing him in the lower
part of the body. The stag did not give the rifle another chance,
but turned his head fair south, towards the top of the C----. We
watched him crossing the top, then we made for where we saw him
crossing, and we saw him about 300 yards away as he was going down
the opposite side, and he was still going south, then getting out
of view, into a hollow. The stalker did not lose his chance, but
made a sprint to get up to him, which he managed to do, but the
wily fellow was always keeping his back to his enemy, and making
fast for some private corner, where he hoped he would be safe.
The trigger was not pulled for him. Being in plain ground there,
and the Royal stag fast on the move, we could do nothing but wait
and watch where he would cross the next ridge, which was fully a
mile away. Once the stalker saw him cross, we made at once for
the spot he went out of our view, getting there as soon as our
legs could carry us, and after spying that part of the ground very
carefully, we failed to pick him up. That was in the centre of
the Glashan, a piece of ground about 1½ miles square, very level,
with shallow peat bags, and guarded on three sides with slightly
rising ridges. The distance between where the stag was wounded and
where we lost him was about seven miles. By this time the light
was failing, so we had to make tracks for home. One evening, a few
days later, when it was beginning to get dark, the head stalker was
out about the larder, and noticing a stag with some hinds above
the lodge, and putting his glass on him, at once knew the stag he
had the run after a few days before. I was just after getting home
from the hill, and he ordered me to go and shoot him. The rifle I
never fired before, and the sight although marked for 100 yards
I afterwards found to be a 70 yards sight. I got to about 100
yards from the stag, but having the evening light, and being among
juniper bushes, I had to shoot off my hand, and missed him. There
was no other chance that evening, as the light was getting bad. Two
or three days after, about 10 o’clock in the morning, I was going
along to the E---- Bothy, about a mile from the lodge, when I saw
about twenty hinds and a stag amongst them, and after putting the
glass on him, I knew it was the same stag. I at once went back to
tell the head stalker, but finding him not at home, I took the
rifle. I got to about 120 yards of the stag, but shooting too low,
I grazed his foreleg below the heart; he did not give me another
chance then, but left the hinds and turned to the south across the
top. When I got to the top I noticed him about half a mile from me;
keeping him in view he went for about two miles south, then turning
south-west I kept him in view for three miles, then lost sight of
him, but I could understand by the movements of some hinds the line
he was taking. I made for the place where I lost sight of him, but
having got there I could see nothing. I followed up the burn that
rises at Cairn-an-S----, and after getting half-way up the burn, I
came out to the open to spy. I was spying for some time, and was
putting my glass in its case when I noticed a black object about
half a mile away, about the size of a blackcock. I used my glass,
and who was this but the Royal lying in the centre of the Glashan,
on quite level ground. He was lying down licking the scratch where
I wounded him earlier in the day. With great difficulty and after
a long crawl I got to about 70 yards of him, and shot him through
the neck. That was a lucky range, as the rifle was sighted for
70 yards. I was in an awful mess through crawling in burns and
gutters after him, but I was very keen on getting him, and as an
old chap once said to me, ‘When you have a difficult thing to do
you must not be minding your clothes.’ Well, I was pleased I got
him as I was sure he could not live very long. I considered what
to do; my first idea was to put him in some safe place, and come
for him next day, so I took him to a burnside into a hollow and hid
him, but before doing so I put a small chack with my knife above
his brow antler, to know him if ever I saw him again, as I did not
know who might be looking at me. I was in doubt whether I would
take his head off or leave it there all night. I at once changed
my mind, as it was so good a head I did not like leaving him out
there all night. I cut his head off, giving him a long neck for
being stuffed. That finished, I shouldered the Royal head, took him
back five miles to the E---- Bothy, left him there that night, and
took it two miles further to the lodge the next day, and to-day it
hangs in the chief’s mansion. The young chief was very glad to get
it. The head was a very good Royal, thick horns, points equal and
well-shaped. The distance between the place where I shot him
through the neck and the place we lost him the day the young chief
wounded him is hardly half a mile apart. That day the stag was
first wounded, he went whatever a distance of six or seven miles
to that quiet spot in the centre of the Glashan. The day I shot
him through the neck I followed him for about eight miles from the
place where I grazed his foreleg below the heart. He never saw me,
he never stopped, always making for that private spot, the place
in the centre of the Glashan. So this stag went two times to that
same place, as he hoped he would be safe there, and possibly that
stag might have been lying in the same bed both nights.” This shows
the distance a stag will go for safety, and that he goes back to
his old home, the spot where he thinks he is safe. And so I believe
that my friend the stalker must have been right in thinking that
the stag he had found in April was the stag I had shot in the early
days of the preceding October.
[Illustration: “I WAS SPYING FOR SOME TIME.”
From a Photograph by the Author.]
[Illustration: (The High Hills)]
XI
THE METHOD BY WHICH EAGLES AND HAWKS SECURE THEIR PREY
As is well known, the eagle lives largely on carrion such as
dead deer and carcases of sheep, differing in this respect from
the peregrine falcon, which lives exclusively on what it kills.
Generally speaking, the eagle secures its prey by pouncing on it
on the ground and carrying it away in its talons. He swoops down
at a great pace in a slanting direction, and in this way not only
captures hares and rabbits, but also grouse and ptarmigan on the
ground and young ducks on the loch. It is very interesting to
watch the great bird searching slowly along the side of a hill,
about 50, 100, or 150 yards above the ground; then he suddenly
pounces, and in a moment is up again and away with his prey in
his talons. So regularly does the eagle adopt this method of
capturing his prey on the ground, that I have met stalkers who
have told me that they do not believe that an eagle can overtake
any swift-winged bird such as grouse or black game. This is
certainly wrong, for the eagle does sometimes, though comparatively
rarely, adopt the other method of securing his prey--the method
which I have already described (see p. 64, _supra_)--that of
pursuing and catching his prey in the air, and in this way without
doubt captures blackcock, grouse, and ptarmigan. I have already
stated (see pp. 57-70, _supra_) that in my opinion the eagle in
his downward flight is faster than the peregrine. Even in his
horizontal flight, once he gets going he can fly very fast if he
chooses, but of course is not nearly so agile and cannot turn and
twist with the rapidity of the peregrine, and the result is that
when he overtakes his quarry he frequently misses him.
Nearly a hundred years ago one of the most acute observers amongst
ornithologists wrote as follows: “In another part of the Western
Highlands of Scotland we had an opportunity of witnessing the
powers of flight of this bird in pursuit of its quarry. An old
blackcock was sprung and was instantly pursued by the eagle (who
must have been on a neighbouring rock unperceived) across the glen,
the breadth of which was at least 2 miles.
“The eagle made several unsuccessful pounces, but as there was no
cover and the bird large, it probably fell a victim in the end.”[28]
Lastly, as I have already said in the pages just mentioned where I
have fully discussed the matter, the eagle on rare occasions swoops
down at a terrific pace on his prey in the air, striking it to
the ground but not clutching it or, to use the falconer’s phrase,
binding on it.
The eagle has a great partiality for hares, cats, young fox cubs,
and young lambs. I remember James Macintosh, head stalker at Loch
Rosque, telling me that on two occasions whilst waiting at a fox
den he had shot an eagle. He added that, whilst the old foxes
are away, the cubs, when they get hungry, sometimes make such
a noise that they can be heard at a considerable distance, and
that he believed this attracts the eagles, particularly if their
eyrie in which they are rearing their young happens to be in the
vicinity. He went on to say that he thought this accounted for his
sometimes finding fox dens containing only one or two cubs instead
of the usual number of three to seven. There is no doubt that
eagles sometimes attack deer calves, fixing their talons in their
victim’s neck or back and striking the calf with their wings. They
frequently hunt in pairs, and have been seen to drive the calf over
a precipice.
On rare occasions eagles have been known to attack a full-grown
stag. In certain parts of the Highlands they have lately increased
in numbers, and perhaps as a consequence, their ordinary food not
being so plentiful, have become bolder.
Only last year I was stalking in a forest where a few days earlier
a stalker had witnessed a most unusual incident. The following is
his account of what he saw:
“A gentleman and I were out stalking on the 25th of September, and
while the gentleman was having lunch, I went off about 200 yards to
have a spy. I got a stag lying at the foot of a rock. While I had
the glass on him, an eagle suddenly swooped down and attacked him.
The stag went headlong into a bog, but managed to get up. I then
ran back for the gentleman thinking we would have a shot, but by
the time we got back the stag and eagle were over the sky-line and
the eagle still following while going over the sky-line, but after
that we don’t know what happened, as both eagle and stag went out
of sight.”
Donald Matheson, who has had a lifelong experience in the forest
and has only recently retired after having been for many years
stalker at Glen Shieldaig to Mr. C. J. Murray of Loch Carron, told
me that on one occasion, but on one occasion only, he saw an eagle
attack an adult stag.
“It would be, as far as I remember,” he said, “between the 6th and
10th of October in the year 1888 when I was spying one morning
at the forest stables. I picked up a stag on the top of Glen
Shieldaig, quietly feeding on the Glaschnoc side, and while having
my glass still on the stag an eagle swooped down on his head. The
stag fell on his hind-quarters, but was soon on his feet again and
ran for his life while the eagle was fixed on him. The stag made
for a thick clump of birch-trees, and immediately the stag got
under cover the eagle could not keep its hold, owing to the thick
branches of the trees, and left the stag. The eagle kept hovering
for some time above the wood where the stag was concealed, but at
last flew away.”
Whilst stalking in the neighbouring forest of Applecross two years
ago, Colonel the Hon. Claude Willoughby had a most interesting
experience, a description of which he has kindly given me
permission to reproduce here:
“On 30th September, 1921,” he writes, “I was stalking with Alick
Mackenzie on Applecross. We had come through Corrie Chaorachan into
Corrie Na Na and spied a stag with hinds on the west face above the
loch. The wind was west, and after a difficult and exceedingly good
stalk across the Corrie and above these deer, avoiding hinds, also
another stag with hinds, we arrived at a point within 150 yards
of the stag we were after and found him lying down. Owing to the
light and the distance, I determined to wait for him to rise before
shooting. After waiting half an hour, hinds which we had seen
beyond the place where he was lying came galloping past him. He
rose and I shot him; he fell dead. We at once saw that the reason
of these hinds galloping was that an eagle was after a calf which
had separated from the herd. We saw the eagle land on the calf’s
back twice, but the calf escaped.
“The eagle then attacked a hind in the herd. A kestrel hawk now
joined in, and mobbed the eagle. This attack lasted only a short
time. The eagle then circled round my dead stag, the kestrel soon
after disappearing. The eagle settled on a rock about five yards
from the dead stag, and remained there until we showed ourselves.
All this took place within 200 yards of us.
“On the Tuesday following Lord Derwent was also stalking on
Applecross, near Corrie Attadale. He and the head stalker Finlayson
saw an eagle attack a calf, which it knocked down twice, but the
calf escaped.”
[Illustration: THE APPLECROSS HILLS, AND A HIGHLAND FISHING
VILLAGE.
By FINLAY MACKINNON.]
There has been much difference of opinion, and from time to time
considerable controversy as to how the peregrine kills its prey.
Some stalkers and ornithologists believe that it is done with the
edge of the wing, a smaller number with the beak, whilst others
think it is done with the talons. The last-mentioned view is that
which is, I believe, universally held by falconers, who after
all have many more opportunities of seeing how it is done than any
other class of men. I have frequently discussed this question with
naturalists and stalkers, keepers and others interested in this
subject, and have listened to all they could tell me. I have also
had the great advantage of hearing at first hand from falconers
of experience their views and their reasons for them. Further, I
have myself been so fortunate as to see the wild peregrine pursue
and stoop at its quarry. I have seen it strike and kill it and
on occasion miss it. In addition to this, I have read everything
I could find on this subject, both in the older and more modern
books of authority. I am satisfied myself that the view held by the
falconers is the true one, and I cannot state their conclusions
better than, or indeed so well as, by quoting from three letters
that I have received. The writers of these three letters have
kindly given me permission to quote their Views.
Major C. E. Radclyffe, who has had almost unrivalled experience as
a falconer, writes as follows:
“All forms of falcons and short-winged hawks, such as sparrow-hawks
and goshawks, always strike their quarry with _their feet_, and
never with anything else. The killers are those which ‘bind to’
their quarry in the air, that is, pick up a bird in their feet,
and never let go of it until they come to the ground. A really
experienced old trained falcon does this nine times out of ten.
“Sometimes, however, when stooping from a great height, the impetus
of the falcon is so terrific that she seems to know if she ‘binds
to’ her quarry, the impact will be so great as nearly to tear her
legs from her body. Thus, when stooping at a heavy bird like a
grouse, or a pheasant, at great speed, the falcon slightly throws
upwards on her impact with the quarry, and delivers a raking blow
with her single long back talon. By this means (her back talon
being sharp as a razor) I have seen a grouse ripped open from its
tail to its neck. I have seen its wing broken and I have seen its
head cut off.
* * * * *
“All falcons are very careful not to risk touching anything with
their wings, hence a falcon will never really stoop at a bird
on the ground with an idea of catching it, but they will keep
stooping just over a bird they can see on the ground in the hope
of flushing it, and then they will catch it in a minute.
“I have seen falcons and hawks break their wings by striking the
smallest twig on the branch of a tree when misjudging a stoop at a
bird.
“Therefore, you can imagine how easily a hawk would smash its wing
if it attempted this, to hit a heavy bird like a grouse or pheasant
going at terrific speed.
* * * * *
“If you threw a lawn-tennis ball against a falcon’s wing coming
at you at the rate of over a hundred miles per hour, and hit its
wing-bone, that hawk would never fly again.
“I have many times in my life, when casting lightly with a very
small trout rod, just touched the wing of a swift or swallow with
the tip of the rod. I never broke a rod thus, but nearly always
broke the bird’s wing. I think, when you come to consider these
things, you will see that a hawk dare not strike the smallest bird
with its wing.
“It uses its beak only to finish off a bird on the ground, and this
she does by breaking the bird’s neck with its beak.
“I have lived amongst wild and trained hawks all my life, and I
can assure you the above facts are true.”
The reference in the above letter to the peregrine killing a
grouse by striking it with its talon reminds me of the following
interesting note in _Birds of Great Britain_ (5 volumes), published
by the author, John Gould, F.R.S., in 1873.
“Evidence forwarded to Mr. James Burdett, keeper to the Earl of
Craven.... On dissecting a coot I saw taken and dropped by a
peregrine falcon, I found the neck dislocated at the third joint
from the head and an appearance as if the sharp point of the hind
claw had penetrated the brain at the occiput.”
Captain C. F. A. Portal, D.S.O., writes as follows:
“I have seen many dozens of game-birds struck down by trained
peregrines within 50 yards of me, and I can definitely state
that the hawk _invariably_ aims a blow _with the talons_ at his
quarry....
“So true is a peregrine’s aim that he generally gets home with
both his _hind_ talons somewhere near the middle of the quarry’s
back, but often he hits a wing and breaks it, and occasionally he
breaks the neck in the same way. I have examined hundreds of birds
(partridges) killed by hawks, and I have always found the mark
of two hind talons or one of them. The decapitation is generally
performed within a few seconds of the hawk’s alighting on the dazed
or crippled victim. It is performed by one powerful wrench of the
beak. No peregrine will eat or even pluck a living bird.... In my
experience it is a rare thing for a peregrine to strike a bird dead
in the air. It does occasionally happen that the blow falls on the
head or neck, but what generally happens is that the bird is thrown
violently to the ground with a wing broken or the back dislocated.
The concussion with the ground dazes it, and the hawk quickly drops
down upon it and kills it with its beak.
“The merlin often kills comparatively large birds (_e.g._ the
thrush, fieldfare, golden plover, etc.) by strangling them, as its
beak is not strong enough to break their necks. It kills larks,
etc., in the same way as the peregrine kills his quarry, that is,
by sudden dislocation of the neck.
“The sparrow-hawk kills its prey by gripping it with its feet and
driving the claws into its body; this is a slow death sometimes,
and the sparrow-hawk has none of the true falcon’s scruples about
plucking (and even, I fear, beginning to devour) a living bird.