Eyesses and Hack Hawks
Eyesses, or young hawks taken from the nest, should not be taken until
the latest possible day. If the captor can defer the moment until they
are able to fly a little, so much the better. He may then possibly
snare them by some means or another. But this is an exceedingly
difficult job, as the newly-fledged hawk is for a considerable time fed
by her parents, and does not prey for herself. Consequently, she will
not come to any live lure or baited trap, and, being very distrustful
of men, cannot easily even be approached. Thus it is rarely that even
an experienced falconer can lay hands on a wild hawk after it has once
left the eyrie. The next best thing to be done is to catch the eyesses
when they are branchers, that is to say, when they are able to run and
jump about on the branches of a tree, though not yet able to rise on
the wing from the ground. In short, the longer they can be left in the
natural nursery under the care of their natural guardians, the better
they are likely to turn out, not only in their bodily condition, but
in temper and disposition. Very often, however, the young birds will
come to their trainer when there is a good deal of the white down of
their infancy still clothing their unwieldy bodies, and only partially
replaced by the brown feathers of their first plumage. At any rate
the flight feathers of the wing will not be nearly down to their full
length. The outer ones will still have some inches to grow; and those
of the tail will be short soft things, with flabby shafts, and not much
shape or strength.
It is for many reasons desirable that the trainer should go personally
to the place where the eyrie is, and either himself assist in taking
the young birds, or at least be ready to receive them within a few
hours, and give them their first feed. Unfortunately, most hawk-dealers
and many gamekeepers have a rooted objection to this plan, and prefer
to muddle about with the hawks themselves, not sending them off to
the purchaser until they have already unwittingly done them more or
less injury, in one way or another. They either are, or pretend to be,
unable to understand or to believe that an eyess delivered immediately
into the trainer's hand is worth at least 25 per cent. more to him than
one which has been messed about by unskilled hands, and racketed about
in a train for several hours. This stupid prejudice of the captors
and vendors is often productive of the deplorable blemish called
hunger-streaks, which weakens every important feather in the hawk's
body, and to some extent checks and stunts her whole bodily growth and
energy, just at the time when it is most desirable that they should be
steadily maintained and developed. A hunger-streak is caused whenever
a young hawk has been allowed to grow unreasonably hungry. The result
is that that part of the whole web and shaft of each feather which
is growing out of the body at the time is deformed through want of
proper nourishment, and bears on it ever afterwards a cross line like a
blight, so that the feather looks as if a sharp razor had been passed
lightly across it. As the feather grows down this line comes down with
it, and may be seen in all its hideousness, after the hawk is summed,
if any big feather is examined carefully. A fast of more than fifteen
hours--in the daytime--will generally cause a slight hunger-streak;
but the night hours do not count for much; so that hawks which have to
travel far before getting into the trainer's hands should be taken late
in the day and started at once, so that they may be met as soon as they
arrive on the following day.
If the falconer cannot attend personally at the capture of the eyesses,
he should at least send to the captor a suitable hamper in which to
pack and send them. This should be roomy and round in shape, having
its sides and top lined inside with sacking, matting, or other soft
material. In the bottom of it a good thick layer of straw should be
lightly strewed, for the hawks to rest upon; and the lining should
fit well enough to exclude almost all light. Even with all these
precautions there is some risk of breaking feathers, and still more of
bending them and deforming them with dirt. On railways the guards may
generally be cajoled into taking special care that the hamper is not
turned upside down or banged about. But I have more than once known of
valuable hawks arriving dead from a short sea voyage--killed by the
evident ill-treatment to which the padded hamper has been subjected on
the way.
Once arrived at the trainer's quarters, the hamper should be opened
in a darkened room, with doors and windows closed, in which has been
got ready another straw-lined hamper, this time of an oblong or square
shape. Each hawk in her turn will be gently taken out of the soiled
travelling hamper, of which the lid can be shut down between the
times of removing the several inmates. Unless these are very young,
a rufter-hood can be slipped on the head of each one, and the jesses
and bell at once attached to her. If they have come far, a few morsels
of food may be given even before the new-comer has been deposited in
the second hamper. But, if too young to be able to move about much,
they can all be transferred directly to the new quarters, and the
lids left open. In every case the operation of feeding should be at
once undertaken. And a much more troublesome thing this operation is
than the unlearned may suppose. In the first place, there must be in
readiness a good store of fresh, tender beef or sheep's heart, cut into
small strips and slightly warmed. And of this the new-comers must by
some means or other be induced to swallow at least a small quantity.
If care has been taken from the very first not to alarm them, they may
possibly take the morsels of meat quietly and naturally, when offered
to them gently on the end of a small stick. If so, an important point
will have been gained. But it is much more likely that at the sight of
their new and awful-looking foster-parent--when a subdued light has
been let into the room--they will draw back their heads, open their
mouths, and hiss indignantly. Still, if the meat is very slowly and
quietly obtruded towards the open mouths, there is always a good chance
that one of them, bolder than the rest, will strike at it, half in
anger, and half with the idea that it may be good to eat. And, if such
a youngster should happen at the first shot to catch hold of the piece
she aims at, she is quite likely to swallow it, in which case the rest
of your task becomes easy. If things do not go quite so smoothly, and
a hawk which has seized the meat flips it scornfully away, there is
no need to give up the attempt. She may do this a dozen times, and at
the thirteenth time of asking may swallow the food and begin feeding
readily. Or, whilst pupil number one is thus making a fool of the
teacher, number two may take heart and come up to the attack, with a
more practical result. Even at the expense of much time and patience,
it is worth while to get the youngsters to conform from the first, and
take their rations willingly and amicably. As soon as one has done this
the others will follow suit, some quickly and others grudgingly. If
all such efforts fail, or if the hawks, being nearly grown up, bate
and begin to dash about, you must, of course, use rougher measures.
To starve them is worst of all. There is no harm, if all modes of
persuasion fail, in "stuffing" a young hawk. Let her be held firmly,
and as she opens her mouth in defiance at the meat offered, let the
falconer push it inside her beak, and then, if she will not swallow
it, push it down with the small stick into her throat. I have known
an eyess hobby which had to be "stuffed" with all her meals for eight
days! And afterwards she became a fine hawk and a very strong flier.
When all the hawks have taken a half-crop or so, they should be left
in peace in the darkened room for two hours at least. It is a good
thing, by the way, to put on each of them different-coloured jesses,
so that from the first they may be easily known apart. Brown, yellow,
white, orange, and black are perhaps the best colours--not red, or
pink, or green. Notes may also be made from the first in a hawk-book or
falconer's diary. As, for instance, "June 10--Eyess peregrines arrived;
No. 1: small falcon; fed readily, and had nearly a full crop; seems
strong and active; outer wing feather about half down; brown jesses and
hack bell. No. 2: big tiercel or small falcon (uncertain); fed with
difficulty; half a crop; seems timid and rather dull; black jesses." Of
course, if the hawks are to be turned out as soon as they can fly, no
slits will be made in the outer end of the jesses. Another thing which
may very probably have to be done is to clean the hawk's tail-feathers,
and possibly the tips of the wings, if soiled during the journey. This
is done with warm water, soap, and an old toothbrush. If the dirt is
allowed to get hard on the feathers it will be almost impossible to
get it off without fraying the web. The feet of each hawk should also
be well washed and brushed with soap and warm water; and it is always
as well to do the same with the nares, or else brush them and the beak
with a brush dipped in a solution of tobacco. A fresh feed should be
given at intervals of not more than five hours between sunrise and
sunset, _i.e._ three at least in the day. In fact, young nestlings
can hardly be fed too often or too much, when they seem ready to eat.
But the food should not often be as heavy as beef. Young pigeons,
young chickens, bullock's heart, and rabbits may be given to the big
hawks; small birds--fresh-killed always--and sheep's heart to the
small ones. Old pigeons are rather too heating, and old fowls are too
tough. Whenever butcher's meat is given, it should be slightly warmed
first, but not dipped in water. The hawks must be kept quite dry, and
in a moderately warm but airy place, away from all draughts. Very
young sparrow-hawks must be kept in a specially warm and well-sheltered
place, or they are pretty sure to develop a fatal attack of cramp.
Whenever it may be necessary to move a young hawk or meddle with her,
the room should be made as nearly dark as possible.
After a few feeds, administered quietly and patiently, the young hawks
will begin to lose their distrust of their new surroundings; and
first one and then the others will begin to take their meat eagerly,
stretching their necks out, and perhaps pushing their way towards the
feeder's hand. When this is the case they may be indulged with a few
tit-bits on the fist or on the lure. If the lure is used, the pieces of
meat should be merely laid upon it, so that at first the hawk may pick
them off quite easily; and by degrees they may be made to walk towards
it from their artificial nest along a causeway roughly constructed for
that purpose. If it is preferred to get them to feed on the fist, as
it probably will in the case of short-winged hawks, they must first be
made to pick pieces off the gloved hand. Then hold in the gloved fist,
between the outer part of the thumb and the end of the forefinger, a
very tender piece of meat or wing of a small bird. As the hawk takes
hold of it, and finds that it cannot be taken up without a pull, she
will, at once or after a while, give a tug at it, and afterwards
probably put out a foot and seize the glove, using her foot as a
leverage, just as an oarsman uses his stretcher. A little encouragement
will make this easy for her; and by a little management it can be so
arranged that she gets both feet upon the fist. Thus by degrees she
will be induced to stand on the back of the hand, and in that position
tear up her food. The next step is to raise her slowly up on the fist,
while busy at her meal. In like manner, when pulling at the lure, she
may be lifted bodily on it, and thence shifted adroitly on to the fist,
while the garnished part of the lure is still kept under her.
With a little luck this stage of the young bird's education may have
been reached at almost the same time when the feathers are nearly down
and they are ready to fly. In such case the sooner they are turned out
to hack the better. When they have grown so accustomed to feeding on
the lure or on hand that they will run to it as soon as they see it,
they may be let loose in the hack field, with a man to watch them,
having a lure with him to entice them if they stray away. Most of the
popular books dealing with hawking complacently assume that here no
difficulty arises. Unfortunately for the beginner, such difficulties
will occur, even in the best-regulated establishments. For instance,
the hawks may begin to fly the very day after they arrive, and before
they will feed willingly. What is to be done in such a case? Well,
each hawk must be made to the lure or the fist before she is turned
out. She may be brailed and kept in a spare room, with or without her
sisters and brothers. Or she may have slits cut in her jesses, and
be attached by a leash to a block, for all the world like a trained
hawk, and thence enticed by degrees to run to the lure for her food,
until she is keen for it. She should at least know what the lure means
before being let entirely loose. But it is generally sufficient that
one of a lot which came from the same nest should be made to the lure.
The rest, when turned out, will find their way, when hungry, after her
to the feeding-place. Some special caution should be observed with
hobbies. I know of two which would come to the lure in an outhouse, but
only reluctantly. They were turned out one morning to hack in a quiet
place, and, though they had never flown more than a yard high before,
went up into tall fir-trees. And there they remained, staring at the
well-garnished lures which were laid out underneath, declining to go
down, taking short flights from tree to tree, and cruising about in the
air. This state of affairs continued for about three days, after which
it was discovered that the two youngsters--who had never been seen
to chase anything, far less to kill it--had become wild hawks! Some
falconers habitually carry their eyesses, break them to the hood, and
partially reclaim them, before turning them out to hack. But the more
natural and promising system is never to confine them at all until they
are taken up at the end of the period of hack. The youngster, when thus
treated, has become, by the time she has to be put in training, as like
a wild hawk as a tame one can be. And, as the haggard is better than
the red passager, and the passager than the soar-hawk, so by analogy
it may be assumed as a rule that the hack hawk which has never been
handled is superior to the eyess which has. Sir John Sebright's plan of
putting out the young hawks in a hamper hung against a tree-trunk, with
the lid of the hamper turned down as a platform by day, and fastened up
at night, will answer with orderly, well-behaved hawks. But it will be
wise to keep a close watch upon the artificial nest, in case of a hawk
jumping off when it can run but cannot fly. It might stray for ever so
far, and hide in bushes, or be devoured by a cat or fox.
We suppose now that the eyesses are at hack. Even yet their outer wing
feathers will not be fully down; and the sails, even of those which
will ultimately be the longest winged, appear rounded at the ends,
like those of a sparrow-hawk. But they will very soon learn to fly
quite well, with a rather gliding movement, the tips of the feathers
bending upwards as they strike the air. They will not go far from the
spot where they are turned out. What sort of place should this be that
is chosen for the hack ground? That depends upon the facilities which
the trainer enjoys for selecting a country. None perhaps is better
than a large park, with fir-trees in it, or an open moor with a few
stone walls. If the falconer is nervous about turning out a whole
nestful at once, he may tether one of the most backward at a block in
the middle of the hack field, with a "tiring" to amuse her, and place
some garnished lures on the ground near to her, to which the liberated
hawks may come when they like. There should also be spare blocks put
out in the field, upon which the hack hawks may jump if they like after
feeding. Of course, if the weather is very wet, the commencement of
hack should be deferred till it is more settled, and the hawks brailed
and let loose in an empty room or loft. If they have been "manned"
pretty well before they are turned out, and will allow themselves to be
taken up when feeding on the lure, they may be taken in under shelter
the first night or two. But if it is fairly warm and fine they will be
better left out. They will generally at or soon after sunset go up into
pretty tall trees to roost. If they stay too long on a block or a gate
or post, it is as well to drive or take them off, and see that they are
perched up somewhere aloft, out of harm's way. By the bye, hawks, as
a rule, should be turned loose in the early part of the day, after a
light feed, so that they may be sure to get hungry again by the middle
of the day. Jubilee, the best hack hawk I ever had, when he was let
loose at 7 a.m., having never before flown two yards, spread his wings,
and at the first start flew softly but steadily away across a small
river, and, rising easily, took perch 300 yards off on the top branches
of an elm 70 feet high. He afterwards flitted about from one high tree
to another within a range of 500 yards, and only at midday came down to
his sister, who was eating her luncheon at a block in the hack field.
He spent that night in a tall elm, not far off, and did not go more
than half a mile from the hack field until he was taken up nearly a
fortnight later.
If the falconer can hack his own hawks, so much the better. He will
learn during the process much about their individual characters
and aptitudes. Often he will name them in accordance with their
peculiarities or the adventures which each may meet with. It is,
however, generally possible for him to get his hawks hacked by some
other person, or to purchase fully-hacked hawks after they have been
taken up. The worst of it is that unless you know a good deal about the
deputy hawk-master, you have no guarantee that the month's hack which
they are supposed to have had is real or imaginary.
On the first or second day of hack the falconer should make up his mind
whether he will hack his hawks to the lure, to the fist, or to the
board. For short-winged hawks the fist or the board is preferable. For
gers, peregrines, and hobbies, the board or the lure. For merlins, the
lure and the fist, combined in such proportions as seems to be most
suitable; generally more of the lure than of the fist. Each of the
systems has its merits, and each its defects.
If the board is chosen, it must be substituted at once for the lure
which was used on the first day. It consists of a plank or log of
wood, the lower side of which rests on the ground, while to the top
side is attached the food for the expected guests. One ration should
be provided for each hawk out--at intervals of two feet or so all
along the board. It is very important that the meat should be so
attached that it cannot be pulled off and carried away, but must be,
strictly speaking, consumed on the premises. When the feast consists
of rabbits' legs, fowls' wings, or the like, it can be firmly tied by
the bone. But, when meat is given, much care and ingenuity is required
to make it fast. Perhaps the best plan is to tie the piece tightly by
the two opposite corners. If it is possible for a hawk to bolt with a
substantial piece, she is quite likely to do so. And, having done so
once, she will try to do it again, especially if she happens to be a
shy hawk, and afraid of her stronger sisters who are beside her at the
board.
It must be confessed that hawks at hack exhibit a good deal of
perversity in their dealings with the hack board. Theoretically, each
of them ought to come down punctually at meal-time, and take her place
at the _al fresco_ table, where she can eat up in peace and quiet
the portion set out for her, without interference by or with her
neighbours. But, as a matter of fact, I regret to say that, instead
of adopting this rational and orderly course, hack hawks are often no
better behaved than an American traveller at a roadside feeding-place,
or a dowager at a ball-supper. As soon as the first comer has settled
down to that part of the board to which chance or choice has brought
her, the next comer will make straight for the same spot, taking no
notice whatever of the dainty morsels with which the rest of the board
is bedecked. Thereupon, of course, squabblings and bickerings, and
probably a scuffle, in which the weaker or less greedy of the rival
gluttons is driven off. Sometimes there will be three hungry young
ladies at the same piece, and a sort of battle ensues. Fortunately
the quarrel does not end in blows, nor in broken feathers, unless the
edges of the board have carelessly been left square and sharp at the
upper edges. The disadvantages of the board-school system, as it may be
called, are thus considerable. It leads to rivalries and jealousies,
and sometimes to free fights, among the school-children. These are not
birds which, in the words of Dr. Watts, "in their little nests agree."
Moreover, one bad habit at least is very likely to be learnt. It is
impossible always to fix on the rations to the board so that they
cannot be pulled off until finished. Suppose, now, that a tiercel,
having eaten half his ration, finds that the remainder has come loose.
And suppose that one of his sisters, having made a joint meal farther
down the board with another falcon, happens to want some more. She may
turn a covetous eye towards the tiercel's portion. Upon which exit the
latter, food in hand, closely followed by his big sister, who gives
him a hot time of it, chasing him about the hack field, and probably
catching him. Then follows a tooth-and-nail encounter, in which the
male, or unworthier sex, as it is with hawks, gets the worst of it.
Few things can be more conducive than this to the tiresome vice of
carrying. It is for this reason that, in the case of merlins, which are
especially addicted to this fault, I do not much believe in the board
system. On the other hand, it has its advocates and its advantages.
Hawks which are so hacked soon become much wilder than when treated in
another way. And wildness, at this period of a hawk's life, is a thing
to be desired. Board-school hawks, when taken up, are found to more
nearly resemble a wild-caught bird. They seldom or never scream. They
have none of the namby-pamby, molly-coddle habits of the fist-fed or
lure-fed eyess. They do not hang about round the trainer, or follow
him like spaniels. On the contrary, they often will not come down
to the board unless he retires to a respectful distance. They are
unapproachable by any louts or strollers who may come in sight, and,
being shy, take wing very readily, and generally get more flying, and
at a better pace.
If the lure system is chosen, the trainer goes to the hack field at
feeding-times with as many lures as there are hawks at hack. Each lure
must be so heavy that the hawk cannot move it at all, and the food
must be attached so that it cannot be pulled off while uneaten. To the
first hawk which comes up the first lure will be thrown out; to the
second comer another; and so on till the last is served. Fighting will
occur, no doubt, as it is impossible to prevent two hawks from coming
down to one lure. But, then, the master of the ceremonies is at hand to
separate the combatants, and keep each to her own lure, whereas at the
board they have to just fight it out.
It is much the same thing with the fist-feeding system. But this can
hardly be attempted with success when many big hawks are at hack
together. As the trainer comes to the hack field, the hack hawks will
come up, taking perch on his hand, his head, his shoulder, or wherever
they can find a place. Two or three may generally be accommodated on
the left forearm and fist. From his meat-box or feeding-pouch the
trainer will take out with his right hand the prepared mouthfuls of
food, and distribute them impartially among the hungry claimants. But
if there is more than one hawk out, it will be found almost necessary,
and certainly convenient, to use lures as well. After a few morsels
have been distributed, these lures can be thrown down for all the hawks
except one, which may finish her meal on the fist. One day one hawk may
thus be retained, and another day another may take her turn, so that
all keep up their habit of feeding freely there. Sparrow-hawks which
are to be hacked on this system may be coped a little before they are
turned out, for they have a way of digging in their claws to any soft
place. But a goshawk can only be hacked to the fist if she or he is
the only one out. The spectacle of a falconer (or ostringer, to use
the correct word) with a goshawk's claws firmly fixed in his head or
shoulder would be a rare subject for a serio-comic portrait!
Meal-times for the hack hawks should be pretty punctually observed.
Otherwise the hawks will become irregular in their habits, and the
falconer will be compelled rather to dance attendance on them than they
on him. The food may be left out on the board for an hour each time,
and then removed, before it has become fly-blown or soaked with rain
or frizzled in the sun. 6 to 7 a.m., noon to 1, and 6 to 7 p.m., are
very good hours. And each time when the board is garnished and the food
in readiness, the trainer may blow a whistle, or ring a bell, or sound
a gong, to give notice from afar. At each meal there must be "calling
over"; and if there is any absentee a mark must be recorded against his
or her name.
A bath or two must be set out in the hack field. From about 9 to 11
a.m. it should be kept pretty full of clean fresh water; but it should
be removed or emptied before noon. Most hawks are very capricious about
bathing; and hobbies, which want it most, will seldom bathe at all.
The others should be accustomed to bathe early in the day, so that
when they are old they will not depart from this godly habit. Plenty of
blocks should stand around, on which the bathed hawks may stand to sun
and air themselves.
The longer the period of hack can be safely protracted the better for
the hack hawk and her trainer. All the while she is learning to fly.
During the latter part she is also learning to chase and to stoop. Here
it is that the danger comes in. For in that ardour of youthful chase
what kills may come! At first the random shots made from tall tree-tops
at passing swallows will be wide enough of the mark. Even the young
missel-thrushes or wood-pigeons which have frequented the hack ground
will make light of the clumsy efforts made to cut them down; and the
house-pigeons from the nearest dovecot will treat with supreme contempt
the well-meaning but awkward stoops made at them. But every day finds
the young hawks more expert, as well as stronger on the wing. The
long feathers are now all down. The shafts harden, and no longer bend
perceptibly as the wing-tips strike the air. Presently the flights at
wild birds are no longer mere child's play. The fugitives have to exert
themselves to save their skins. Very likely the young hunters of the
air are not at first altogether in earnest. Secure of their food at the
hack board or lure or fist, and trusting to it for their subsistence,
they are merely "having a lark" with the intruders on what has begun to
be their domain. But it is increasingly difficult to know how much of
their endeavours is play and how much real business. Be sure, however,
that when any stoop, whether playful or not, proves successful, and the
unfortunate victim is in the pursuer's clutch, there will be no more
play; and on some lonely patch of ground not fifty miles from the hack
field there will be left a litter of feathers, the mortal remains of
the first quarry killed by hawks of the year.
Let me here quote from my hawk diary: "12 noon; out to hack field,
and follow a blackbird down Butt's orchard hedge. Nearing the corner,
blackbird (young cock) takes across the orchard. Drop him, winged, as
he goes over the front hedge; and he falls in the hack field. Jubilee
[eyess male merlin] is on a block in the middle of it, 90 yards off. It
is his third day out. As the blackbird falls, he starts, and, stooping
at it as it runs, takes it, kills it, and begins to plume it like a
wild hawk before I get up." Pretty sharp work this for a little hawk
that had never used his wings till the day before yesterday. But this
capture of a winged bird was not counted as a "kill"; and Jubilee was
left out for a good eight days more, and might probably have been left
a few longer. Hack hawks know no sentimental scruples about taking
their prey on the ground. Here is another extract from a hawk diary:
"6.30 a.m., out and fed hack hawks on lure. 'She' not visible. At 7
saw her on wire fence, half-way across park. As I got near with lure
she started, and, flying low over the ground away from me, turned
suddenly, and dropped on some bird in the grass. Was pluming it, when
heifers came right up to her. Then lifted, and carried into the lower
belt. Quarry looked like a missel-thrush." The same day "She" was taken
up. It is a risky thing to leave hawks out after they have once begun
serious and successful chasing. Yet it is a thousand pities to take
them up too soon, just when they are improving most rapidly. Peregrines
may be left out, with heavy hack-bells, for four weeks or occasionally
more. Merlins seldom more than three weeks. If the hack place and its
neighbourhood are very open, and the wild birds about are few, there is
less danger, and less need for hurry. But when the trees and bushes are
well stocked with wood-pigeons, thrushes, and small birds, beware.
It is now that the advantage will be seen of putting distinctive jesses
on the hawks. The trainer must watch the board carefully. He may not
be able to get within 80 yards of it. But from his hiding-place, be
it far or near, he must tell over the number of his charges every
morning, noon, and evening, so as to see that all have been down. A
field-glass may be necessary to identify each visitant. Brown-jess may
come down at 6 a.m., take a light breakfast, and be off. White-jess
may not appear till 12; and even then no signs of Black-jess. The case
begins to look serious. But at 12.50 at last a hawk comes down. Is
this the truant? Or is it Brown-jess again, with her luncheon appetite
come on? The glass will tell you quickly if the colour of the jesses
worn corresponds to the one name or the other. But if both hawks wore
the same coloured jesses, you could not say. If the last comer is
Black-jess--only delayed till so late by mere want of appetite--she may
be left out, perhaps for some days longer. And the extra days' exercise
will undoubtedly make her a faster and stronger hawk. But if you cannot
tell one hawk from another, it will be impossible for you to know when
one has missed two successive meals or not. If Black-jess absents
herself all day until the evening repast, the inference is strong that
in the morning she killed something for herself. If she keeps away for
a whole day, that conclusion becomes almost a certainty. She must be
taken up when the first chance occurs. Here, however, arises a fresh
difficulty. If it is a tiercel who so absents himself--especially a
small tiercel--the presumption that he has killed for himself is pretty
well conclusive. But what if it is a falcon? Her brother may have
chased and killed; and the sister--a slow hawk who could not catch
anything for herself--may have seen the flight, or seen the tiercel
pluming his dead quarry, and then come up, and by her superior strength
driven him off, and pirated the spoil. You, wrongly inferring that it
was she who killed the quarry, will take her up the next day, quite
prematurely, and leave the real captor, who is much more worthy of
bonds and imprisonment, to remain in dangerous liberty. The same doubt
may arise when the absentee is an extra strong and extra greedy bird of
either sex. That she or he has breakfasted or dined out is, of course,
equally clear. But was it the captive of her own wings and talons
that she devoured, or that of a weaker, but cleverer, hawk? These
are questions impossible to answer, unless some person has actually
seen what occurred. The safest plan, though not the most magnanimous,
when such evidence cannot be got, is, when one hawk has clearly been
killing, to take the whole lot up.
Hack hawks are as various in their habits at hack as they are at all
other times. Some are lazy, some active, some both by fits and starts.
One will be playful, and find a childish delight in chasing butterflies
or falling leaves. Others, surly and ill-tempered, ready on slight
provocation to make vicious stoops at their brethren or sisters.
Some will sit for hours sullenly on a post; others will fly long
distances for their own amusement, and soar aloft to a good height.
These are the most promising. The falconer, if he keeps his eyes
open, will have learnt before hack is over pretty well the relative
speeds and particular dispositions of his wards. Rarely are these
early indications falsified in after-life. But a backward hawk is not
necessarily a bad hawk. During quite the last days of hack a hawk which
had seemed rather dull and slow will sometimes wake up, and put on pace
in an astonishing way, until from being a member of the awkward squad
she comes to rival the leaders of the whole school in activity and
speed. But a sulky and moping hawk seldom turns out first-rate.
Speed is the great desideratum in a hawk. It is like the "big
battalions" in an army; like a good eye to a cricketer. When people
complain about bad-tempered hawks, it is often the trainer who is to
blame. But in the matter of speed, as shown at hack time, the trainer
is hardly, if at all, responsible. Bad temper is a nuisance, no
doubt, and a difficulty. But want of speed is worse. It is incurably
destructive of good sport. And here, speaking of the relative speeds
of hawks at hack, I will ask leave to relate two anecdotes. Queen, a
powerful and speedy, but not very brilliant flier, went off with a
rabbit's head, pursued by her sister and two brothers. Winding about
along the side of a long hedge, now one side and now the other, she
evaded all their stoops, and, after reaching the end of the hedge,
where there were some elms and oaks, dodged rapidly in and out among
them, loaded as she was, throwing out all the pursuers, and finally
conveying her booty to a safe corner, where she discussed it all by
herself in peace.
On his eleventh day of hack, Jubilee, the male merlin already referred
to, was sitting with his two sisters and one brother in the branches of
a fallen tree in the hack field, under which I was seated, garnishing
the lures for their delectation a little later on. Suddenly the little
hawk started at his best pace right down the field. I supposed that he
was after some blackbird in the far hedge. But before reaching it he
turned, and began mounting as he came back towards me. I looked round,
and for the first time saw that a wild kestrel had come over into the
field, and was dodging the stoops made at him by the remaining merlins.
Now this kestrel was one of a brood which had been flying at hack under
their parents' care in a neighbouring field. They were already strong
on the wing before the merlins were turned out; and I had been rather
fearing, when I discovered their near presence, that they might do the
young merlins a bad turn. No encounter had, however, as yet occurred
between the two families. The kestrel had at first little difficulty
in eluding the stoops of the three merlins, who seemed not much in
earnest. But when Jubilee came over, at some height in the air, there
was a different tale to tell. With his first stoop he made the wild
hawk cry out; at the second he almost feathered him, and made him
shuffle off to the orchard near at hand, where, swirling round the
tree-trunks, he threw out his assailant, and made off to a tall elm.
Here, no doubt, he fancied he was safe, especially as the other hawks,
on Jubilee's appearance, tailed off. But not a bit of it. Throwing
himself well up above the elm, the little jack dashed down at the enemy
in the tree, dislodged him, and with a back-handed stoop drove him down
to the ground, hunted him all across a meadow, grazing him at every
shot he made, and lost him in a big orchard farther on. The pace of
the wild hawk was very poor in comparison with that of this half-tame
lure-hacked merlin. It seemed as if the latter could have given him
ten yards in a hundred. In straight-ahead flying, in mounting, and
in throwing up, the kestrel was completely outpaced. Yet before now
trained merlins, as I have heard tell, have been outflown and chased by
a wild kestrel. I should not like, and do not ever expect, to own such
a trained merlin.
The day comes--all too soon--when the falconer dares to keep the hack
hawks out no longer. The decree goes out for one to be taken up. If
this one has been hacked to the fist the proceeding is simple enough.
As she stands complacently breakfasting on the fist, the jesses are
grasped in the fingers of the left hand. A couple of snips with a
sharp pair of strong nail-scissors make a slit in the two jesses. And
through these a spring swivel is deftly slipped. Attached to the swivel
is a leash, the end of which is wound round the little finger, while
the button of it is grasped in the palm of the left hand. As the hawk
proceeds with her meal she is taken quietly to a darkened room, where a
rufter hood is slipped on her head. Five minutes' carrying, and she is
placed on a mound of turf, food and all, while the leash, unwound from
the little finger, is fastened to a peg strongly planted in the ground.
If the hawk has been hacked to the lure or to the board, the process is
a little more complicated, but presents no real difficulty. A bow-net
must then be used. This instrument is more fully described in the
next chapter. It consists of a hoop of metal on which a light net is
stitched. The ends are fixed down; and the hoop is so set that a pull
on a long string will bring the rim up and over any object which may be
near it on the near side. The object, of course, in this case will be
the lure, or the piece of food with which the hack board is garnished.
When the hawk is feeding, the string is pulled. The net swings over,
encompassing both meat and hawk. Up runs the falconer, to secure the
captive, who is made fast, hooded, and taken home.
Even if a hawk has begun to prey for herself, she can still often be
captured with a live lure, that is, a live bird attached to a light
cord. Once find the hawk, and let the live lure fly, and she is pretty
sure to take it. Then she may be snared in one of the ways described in
the chapter on Lost Hawks.
A hack hawk, once taken up, is treated in very much the same way as a
wild-caught hawk. The process of reclamation begins at once. And this
process will be found described at length in the succeeding chapter.