UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE VARIOUS KINDS OF FALCONS, AND DESCRIBES
THE SPORT OF HAWKING AS ANCIENTLY PRACTISED IN ENGLAND.
“What is the name of this Eagle?” said Mary, on a subsequent evening,
pointing to one of the specimens in Uncle Thomas’s Museum. “It seems to
be much smaller than either of those which you have told us about, Uncle
Thomas.”
“That,” said Uncle Thomas, “is not an Eagle. It belongs to the Falcon
family, and is one of the most elegant of the tribe. It is the Peregrine
Falcon, the species principally used when Hawking was practised as a
field-sport. It is a very fine specimen, and was caught in the
neighbourhood. It measured in length sixteen inches; and its wings, from
tip to tip, three feet.
“The Peregrine Falcon,” continued Uncle Thomas, “is found in all the
temperate and colder countries of Europe, but it prefers places where it
can find rocky precipices, in which to build its nest. As it has great
power of wing, however, it can soon transport itself from place to
place. Some one estimates its rate of flight at about an hundred and
twenty miles an hour; but even that is not so rapid as the Gyr-Falcon,
which is said to fly at the rate of one hundred and fifty!
“A Falcon which belonged to Henry IV., King of France, on one occasion
escaped from the Falconry at Fontainbleau, and was caught twenty-four
hours afterwards in the island of Malta. The distance between the two
places has been reckoned at 1350 miles, so that if the Falcon flew the
whole time without stopping, it must have proceeded at the rate of fifty
miles an hour. But as the Falcons never fly by night, supposing that it
rested during the darkness, and flew only during eighteen hours, its
flight was at the rate of seventy miles an hour. Even this computation,
however,” continued Uncle Thomas, “is liable to considerable objections.
The exact moment of its arrival at Malta cannot of course be told, as he
might be in the island some time before he was discovered; and it is
also probable that the day-light would not serve him to travel so long
as eighteen hours.”
“I wonder how any bird escapes the Falcon since he flies so fast,” said
John.
“The Instincts of the birds on which it preys,” said Uncle Thomas,
“teach them many little wiles to escape their enemy, and it is seldom
that the chase is one of mere power of wing. It was to this skill on the
part of the birds that much of the interest of the sport was derived
when Hawking was practised in England. I will tell you about the various
modes of Hawking by and by, but there is a little story of the boldness
and sagacity of the Peregrine, which I must first tell you;—A gentleman
well known as an accomplished naturalist (Mr. Selby) relates that on one
occasion when he was exercising his Dogs upon the moors, previous to the
commencement of the shooting season, he observed a large bird of the
Hawk tribe hovering at a distance, which, upon approaching, he knew to
be the Peregrine Falcon. Its attention seemed to be drawn towards the
Dogs, and it accompanied them whilst they beat the surrounding ground.
Upon their having found and sprung a brood of Grouse, the Falcon
immediately gave chase, and struck a young bird before they had
proceeded far upon the wing, but the shouts of the sportsman, and his
rapid advance, prevented it from securing its prey. The issue of the
attempt, however, did not deter the Falcon from watching their
subsequent movements, and another opportunity soon offering, it again
gave chase, and struck down two birds by two rapidly repeated blows, one
of which it secured and bore off in triumph.”
“The Falcon must have known that the Dogs were in search of game,”
remarked Harry.
“Yes,” said Uncle Thomas, “and it must also have known that they would
put up the birds; and as its general habit is to strike its prey on the
wing, it no doubt reckoned that it would be very convenient to have them
to do so, as its prey frequently escape by lying close and undiscovered
among the herbage when they see their enemy approaching.
“The Gyr-Falcon, which I mentioned to you as exhibiting extraordinary
speed,” continued Uncle Thomas, “is a larger bird than the Peregrine;
the male generally measuring about twenty-two inches in length, and its
wings stretching about four feet. The female, as is universally the case
with birds of prey, is larger than the male. It is a native of the most
northern countries of Europe; the rocky fastnesses of Iceland being its
head quarters. This Falcon, from its great strength of wing, was held in
great repute when the amusement of Hawking was in fashion. In Denmark,
to which kingdom the island of Iceland belonged, there was a law which
inflicted the punishment of death on any person destroying them, and the
King’s Falconer, with a couple of attendants went annually thither in
great state to receive such animals as had been captured during the
year. The rewards paid to the captors were very high, about three pounds
for the best, and from ten to forty shillings for others, according to
the estimation in which they were held.
“Though naturally one of the wildest of birds, the Gyr-Falcon soon
becomes familiar, and, when properly trained, is one of the best
‘Hawkers.’ Even in a state of nature it has been known to throw off its
wild habits. An old gentleman in the South of Scotland was in the habit
of resting during his morning walk on a seat beneath a wooded precipice.
For two or three mornings a young Gyr-Falcon came and sat upon a bough
above his head, and at last grew so familiar as to settle upon his
shoulders. The gentleman was highly delighted with his new acquaintance,
and brought it such food as, from a knowledge of these birds, he knew to
be suitable. At length it ceased to meet him,—probably its wild nature,
as it got older, subduing the gentle confidence which had dictated its
first approaches. He often spoke with lively regret of this interesting
friendship; remarkable in any point of view, but still more so when it
is considered that the Gyr-Falcon is almost never seen in the place
where the incident happened.”
“Perhaps it was a half-trained bird,” suggested Frank.
“Most likely it was,” said Uncle Thomas, “I cannot on any other
supposition account for its familiarity. Besides the Peregrine and
Gyr-Falcons, there were several others which were trained to Hawking;
such as the Merlin, the Kestrel, the Lanner, the Sparrow-Hawk, &c. The
former was held in high estimation as a lady’s Hawk, its weight being
only six ounces, and, besides, being one of the swiftest and boldest of
its tribe, it is most easily tamed and trained.”
“How are Hawks trained?” asked Jane. “I wonder they ever return when
they once fly off after their prey.”
“The training of Hawks,” said Uncle Thomas, “was practised as an art;
and in days when the sport was in high estimation it was one of
considerable importance. The young birds were taken out of the nest when
ready to fly, or caught in traps, and carefully secured in linen bags,
with openings at each end for the head and tail, to preserve their
feathers from injury. On their arrival at the falconry a hood was placed
over their eyes, so as to blindfold them, and, thus imprisoned, they
were left in perfect quiet for a day or two. The training of the
noviciate then began. It was placed upon the wrist of the falconer, and
carried about the whole day, and occasionally stroked with a feather, so
as gradually to accustom it to being handled. Its hood was then taken
off, and it was fed; the falconer making a particular call, which was
invariably used when the bird was fed, and upon no other occasion. When
it was so far trained as to alight on the hand when called, it was
unhooded and ‘put to the lure’—an artificial bird, made of feathers,
which was thrown up into the air, and at which it was induced to fly by
attaching a live Pigeon, or part of a Chicken, which the Hawk was
permitted to eat. To prevent its escape during this part of its
education it was secured by a string. When perfect in this lesson it was
advanced to the dignity of flying at live game, usually by means of a
Duck, which was blindfolded to prevent its escape. By the repetition of
the call when it had struck its quarry the Hawk was taught to return to
its perch upon its master’s wrist, and when this was accomplished its
lesson was complete. To prevent its flying off, it was secured by straps
of leather or silk, called jesses, which were fastened round its legs,
which were also generally ornamented with little bells, so as not to
encumber it or interfere with its flight.”
“Is Hawking ever practised in England now?” asked Jane.
“It is occasionally,” said Uncle Thomas; “but so seldom that, as some
one remarks, when the old gamekeeper of some ancient family crosses us
with a Falcon on his wrist, he looks as if he had stepped out of a
picture-frame, and the sight serves to remind us of a glory which has
departed. It is, however, sometimes to be seen. Here is an account of a
day’s Hawking, in the county of Norfolk.
“In June, 1825,” says the writer, “happening to be in Norfolk, I became
an eye-witness to that most ancient and now very rare sport of Falconry;
and I now relate what I actually saw, and which was to me most novel and
entertaining. The place fixed upon for the sport was in the intermediate
country between the Fens and the Heronry, and in the afternoon of the
day, with the wind blowing towards the Heronry. There were four couple
of casts of the _female_ Peregrine Falcon, carried by a man to the
ground upon an oblong kind of frame, padded with leather, on which the
Falcons perched, to which they were fastened by a thong of leather. Each
bird had a small bell on one leg, and a leather hood, with an oblong
piece of scarlet cloth stitched into it, over each eye, surmounted by a
plume of various-coloured feathers on the top of the hood. The man
walked in the centre of the frame, with a strap from each side over his
shoulder; and when he arrived at the spot fixed upon for the sport, he
set down the frame upon its legs, and took off all the Falcons, and
tethered them to the ground in a convenient shady place. There were four
men who had the immediate care of the Falcons (seemingly Dutchmen or
Germans), each having a bag, somewhat like a woman’s pocket, tied to his
waist, containing a live Pigeon, called a lure, to which was fastened a
long string; there were also some gentlemen attached to the sport who
likewise carried their bags and lures.
[Illustration:
“At length the Falcon soared above the Heron, and struck it on the
back.”
Page 81.
]
“After waiting awhile, some Herons passed, but at too great a distance;
at length one appeared to be coming within reach, and preparations were
made to attack him. Each falconer was furnished with a brown leather
glove on the right hand, on which the Falcon perched; and there was a
small bit of leather attached to the leg of the bird, and which was held
by the falconer between the thumb and finger. Each of the men thus
equipped, with a Falcon on his wrist, and the bag with the lure tied to
the waist, and mounted on horseback, proceeded slowly in a direction
towards where the Heron was seen approaching. As soon as the Heron was
nearly opposite, and at what I conceived a great height in the air, the
falconers slipped the hoods from off the heads of the falcons, and held
each bird on the wrist by the bit of leather, till the Falcons caught
sight of the Heron, and then a most gallant scene ensued. The instant
they were liberated, they made straight for their prey, though at a
considerable distance ahead. As they were dashing away towards the Heron
a Crow happened to cross, and one of them instantly darted at him, but
he struck into a plantation and saved himself: the Falcon dashed in
after him, but did not take him. The other Falcon soon overtook the
Heron, and after flying round in circles for some time, at length soared
above him, and then struck him on the back, and they both came tumbling
down together, from an exceeding great height, to the ground. The other
Falcon, having lost some time with the Crow, was flying very swiftly to
assist his comrade, and had just come up at the time the Falcon and
Heron were falling. At this instant, a Rook happened to fly across; the
disappointed Falcon struck at him, and they both fell together within
twenty yards of the other Falcon and the Heron. When on the ground, each
Falcon began to pull to pieces its victim; but, as soon as the falconers
rode up, the lures were thrown out, and the Falcons suffered to make a
meal (having previously been kept fasting) upon the Pigeon, which was
laid on the carcass of the Heron; and, after they were satisfied, were
again hooded and put up for that day.
“The next cast consisted of two younger birds; and when let loose at
another Heron, they flew up to it very well. But the Heron was an old
one, and supposed to have been caught before; for the moment he was
aware of the presence of his enemies, he began to soar into the air, and
set up a loud croak; and these, not so experienced as the first two
Falcons, would not attack him, but soared about and left him. Upon this,
one of the falconers set up a peculiar call, to which, no doubt, the
birds were trained; when one of them, from a very great elevation in the
air, immediately closed his wings, darted down to the man who called
him, and was taken in hand. This was a very extraordinary manœuvre, and
an instance of tractable sagacity. The other Falcon did not come to the
call, but sailed about in the air. At length a Heron crossed, and the
Falcon attacked it, but again left it. A third Heron also came in his
way; this he also fell to work with, and, after a short struggle,
brought him to the ground in the same style as the first. This last
Heron had his wing broken, and the falconer killed him; but the first
was taken alive, and was afterwards turned out before a single Falcon,
which struck him down in a minute. I understood that when a Heron had
once been taken by a Falcon he never made any more sport. It was the
case with this one; for, the moment he saw his enemy coming towards him,
he lost all his powers, and made a ridiculous awkward defence on the
ground; where the Falcon would soon have despatched him, if the falconer
and his lure had not been near at hand.
“The Heron,” continued Uncle Thomas, “is perhaps the most difficult prey
with which the Falcon has to contend; and it was the skill and
perseverance with which it opposed the attack of the Falcon, which gave
Hawking this bird its peculiar zest. As it flies very high, it is
extremely difficult for the Falcon to rise above it, so as to stoop upon
it, in which act birds of this sort can most conveniently put forth all
their powers. Even when the Falcon manages to attain the ascendancy its
victory is by no means certain. In case the Heron is foiled in this, its
most obvious means of escape, it turns its neck back upon its shoulders,
and projects its bayonet-like bill upwards, behind its wing, and thus,
should its pursuer pounce upon its head and neck, to which the attack of
the Falcon is usually directed, it runs the greatest danger of being
transfixed upon the long and sharp bill of the Heron. This attitude,
indeed, serves another purpose; it protects these most vulnerable parts
from injury, and should the Falcon, notwithstanding the danger to which
it is exposed, strike at the wing of its prey, and thus disable it, on
reaching the ground, the latter is still able to offer the fiercest
resistance.
“Colonel Montague, on one occasion, brought the powers of the two
animals to a direct test. He took a Falcon, about a year old, which had
been taken from its nest before it could fly, and had never had an
opportunity of killing any thing but a small bird occasionally, and
having kept it without food for twenty-four hours, he introduced into
the room where it was kept an old male Heron. As the object was,
however, principally to see how the Instinct of the Falcon would develop
itself, part of the Heron’s bill had been cruelly cut off. As soon as
the Heron was in motion, the Falcon, which was also deprived of the
means of flight, took post on a stool which was at one end of the room,
and as the Heron, regardless of his enemy, traversed the apartment, the
Falcon, motionless, kept her eyes fixed on her destined prey, till after
several turns round the room, she judged the Heron was sufficiently near
to effect her purpose, when she sprung at its head, intending to seize
it with her talons. In this, however, she failed, the stool not having
given her sufficient elevation to reach the high erect head of the
Heron. This failure would probably have cost the Falcon her life, had
the bill of her antagonist been perfect; for she received a blow on her
body that must otherwise have inflicted a severe, if not a mortal wound
from so pointed an instrument, urged with such power. Baffled in this
attempt, and having received a severe blow, it was conjectured that no
farther attack would be made till the calls of hunger became more
urgent. The Falcon, however, soon regained her station, and it was not
long before the Heron, regardless of his foe, again passed very near,
when the Falcon, in a second attempt to seize her prey, as before, was
equally foiled, and again received a severe check from the bill of the
Heron. Finding her efforts had failed from want of the advantages Nature
had assigned her, Instinct directed the Falcon to a box that stood on
the opposite side of the room, which was somewhat higher. Here she again
seemed to meditate another attack, by watching every motion of the
Heron, who continued his rounds with a view to make his escape; and it
was not long before an opportunity offered for the Falcon to make an
assault from her more elevated station. Here she had found a humble
substitute for those powers with which Nature so amply furnished her,
but of which she had been deprived, and at last succeeded in springing
from her perch, and seizing the unfortunate Heron by the head and upper
part of the neck with her talons, which instantly brought him to the
ground. Now the unequal contest was soon determined, for in vain did the
superior weight and strength of the Heron drag and flounder with his
enemy across the floor; in vain did he flap his unwieldy pinions to
shake off the tyrant of the air, nor could even his gigantic legs force
her from the bloody grasp; her work was short and certain; no efforts
could compel her now to quit her deadly gripe, the powerful and only
dreaded weapon of her antagonist was secured and thus disarmed, he
became a sure and easy prey. Scarcely was the gigantic bird prostrate on
the ground than death ensued; for in this noble race of Falcons,
destined for blood and slaughter, torture makes no part of its nature;
but, like what we are told of the generous Lion, exulting in death, but
disdaining cruelty, in less than half a minute did the Falcon tear out
the gullet and windpipe of the Heron, and regale on the head and neck.”
“It was very cruel to cut off the Heron’s bill, Uncle Thomas,” said
Mary.
“I cannot in any view commend the experiment,” said Uncle Thomas;
“though it certainly does in a very striking manner illustrate the
Instinct of the Falcon in securing its prey. Here was a bird taken and
domesticated before it could have seen its parents attack the animals on
which they feed, yet we find that it exhibited all those peculiarities
which distinguish its assaults in its native state—at once fixing on the
most vulnerable part of its victim, and availing itself of the
advantages which it could derive from pouncing down upon it from above,
and thus giving additional force to its blow.
“Some of the Falcons” continued Uncle Thomas, “are very bold in pursuit
of their prey. A Sparrow-Hawk has been known to enter a church while the
congregation was retiring and bear off a Swallow which had taken refuge
within the building. On another occasion a Kestrel pursued a Sparrow in
at the window of a house, and so eager was it to secure its prey that
the window was closed, and both were taken before it could escape. A
person once saw a Falcon, called in America the Duck-Hawk, pursuing an
aquatic bird, called the Razor-Bill, which, instead of assaulting as
usual with the death-pounce from the beak, he seized by the head with
both claws, and made towards the land; his prisoner croaking, screaming,
and struggling lustily; but being a heavy bird he so far overbalanced
his aggressor that both descended fast towards the sea, when just as
they touched the water, the Falcon let go his hold and ascended; the
Razor-Bill as instantaneously diving below.
“Wilson mentions an instance in which the Sparrow-Hawk was not deterred
from pouncing on its prey even by the presence of a sportsman, with his
gun ready to shoot it. ‘One day,’ says he ‘I observed a bird of this
species perched on the highest top of a large poplar, on the skirts of a
wood; I was in the act of raising the gun to my eye, when he swept down
with the rapidity of an arrow into a thicket of briars about thirty
yards off, where I shot him dead, and on coming up found a small
Field-Sparrow quivering in his grasp. Both our aims had been taken at
the same instant and unfortunately for him both were fatal.’
“A gentleman, who brought up a young Sparrow-Hawk, has published a very
interesting account of its habits in a state of domestication. The
experiment of domesticating such an animal was rather a hazardous one,
as he had at the same time a stock of fancy Pigeons which he greatly
prized. It seems, however, that kindness and ease had softened the
nature of the Hawk, or the regularity with which he was fed rendered the
usual habits of his family unnecessary to his happiness; for, as he
increased in age and size, his familiarity increased also, leading him
to form an intimate acquaintance with a set of friends who have been
seldom seen in such society. Whenever the Pigeons came to feed, which
they did oftentimes from the hand of their almoner, the Hawk used also
to accompany them. At first the Pigeons were shy, of course; but, by
degrees, they got over their fears, and ate as confidently as if the
ancient enemies of their race had sent no representative to their
banquet. It was curious to observe the playfulness of the Hawk, and his
perfect good nature during the entertainment; for he received his morsel
of meat without any of that ferocity with which birds of prey usually
take their food, and merely uttered a cry of lamentation when the carver
disappeared. He would then attend the Pigeons in their flight round and
round the house and gardens, and perch with them on the chimney-top, or
roof of the mansion; and this voyage he never failed to make early in
the morning, when the Pigeons always took their exercise. At night, he
retired with them to the dove-cot; and though for some days he was the
sole occupant of the place, the Pigeons not having relished this
intrusion at first, he was afterwards merely a guest there; for he never
disturbed his hospitable friends, even when their young ones, unfledged
and helpless as they were, offered a strong temptation to his appetite.
He seemed unhappy at any separation from the Pigeons, and invariably
returned to the dove-house after a few days purposed confinement in
another abode, during which imprisonment he would utter most melancholy
cries for deliverance: but these were changed to cries of joy on the
arrival of any person with whom he was familiar. All the household were
on terms of acquaintance with him; and there never was a bird who seemed
to have won such general admiration. He was as playful as a kitten, and
literally as loving as a dove.
“But that his nature was not altogether altered, and that,
notwithstanding his education, he was still a Hawk of spirit, was proved
on an occasion of almost equal interest. A neighbour had sent us a very
fine specimen of the smaller Horned Owl, which he had winged when flying
in the midst of a covey of Partridges; and after having tended the
wounded bird, and endeavoured to make a cure, we thought of soothing the
prisoner’s captivity by a larger degree of freedom than he had in the
hen-coop, which he inhabited. No sooner, however, had our former
acquaintance, the Hawk, got sight of him, than he fell upon the poor Owl
most unmercifully; and from that instant, whenever they came in contact,
a series of combats commenced, which equalled in skill and courage any
of those which have so much distinguished that hero, who to the boldness
and clearness of vision of the Hawk, unites the wisdom of the bird of
Athens. The defence of the poor little Owl was admirably conducted; he
would throw himself upon his back, and await the attack of his enemy
with patience and preparation; and, by dint of biting and scratching,
would frequently win a positive, as he often did a negative victory.
Acquaintanceship did not seem in this case likely to ripen into
friendship; and when his wing had gained strength, taking advantage of a
favourable opportunity, the Owl decamped, leaving the Hawk in possession
of his territory.
“The fate of the successful combatant was, however, soon to be
accomplished; for he was shortly after found drowned in a butt of water,
from which he had once or twice been extricated before, having summoned
a deliverer to his assistance by cries that told he was in distress.
There was great lamentation, when he died, throughout the family; and it
was observed by more than one person, that that portion of the dove-cot
in which he was wont to pass the night was, for some time, unoccupied by
the Pigeons, with whom he had lived so peaceably even during the wars of
the unfortunate Owl.
“In the East,” continued Uncle Thomas, “Hawking is still practised. In
Persia, Sir John Malcolm saw the mode in which it is conducted in
hunting Deer and smaller game. The hunters proceed with Hawks and
Greyhounds to the places frequented by these animals. When the Antelope
is seen, they endeavour to get as near it as possible, but the timid
animal, the moment it sees its enemies approach, darts off at a rate
swifter than the wind. The horsemen, having slipped the Dogs, follow at
full speed. If it is a single Deer they at the same time fly the Hawk;
but if a herd, they wait till the Dogs have selected a particular
animal. Skimming along the ground, the Hawk soon overtakes the Deer, and
as it is trained, pounces upon its head, and either stops it altogether
by pecking out its eyes, or retards it so much that it is soon overtaken
by the dogs. When he was at Shiraz, Sir John was presented with a very
fine Royal Falcon. ‘Before going out,’ says he, ‘I had been amused at
seeing Nuttee Beg, our head Falconer, a man of great experience in his
department, put upon his bird a pair of leathers, which he fitted to its
thighs, with as much care as if he had been the tailor of a fashionable
horseman. I enquired the reason for so unusual a proceeding. ‘You will
learn that,’ said the consequential master of the Hawks, ‘when you see
our sport,’ and I was convinced, at the period he predicted, of the old
fellow’s knowledge of his business. The first Hare seized by the Falcon
was very strong, and the ground rough. While the bird kept the claws of
one foot fastened in the back of its prey, the other was dragged along
the ground, till it had an opportunity to lay hold of a tuft of grass,
by which it was enabled to stop the course of the Hare, whose efforts to
escape would, I do think, have torn the Hawk asunder, if it had not been
so provided’.
[Illustration:
“The Hawk soon overtakes the Deer, pounces upon its head, and pecks
out its eyes.”
Page 96.
]
“These,” said Uncle Thomas, “are nearly all the stories which I
recollect about Hawks and Hawking, so I must stop for the night. I must
not, however, omit to mention, as a curious fact in the natural history
of these animals, that though in confinement Hawks do not retain their
vigour more than a few years, it is probably a very long-lived bird. One
is said to have been caught in Southern Africa, in the year 1793,
wearing a gold collar, dated 1610, and known at that time to have
belonged to James I. Though more than 180 years old, it was still in
complete vigour.”
His little auditors then bid him good bye.