Rook-Hawking
Eyesses, as well as passage peregrines, may be flown at the rook; but
this quarry is more suitable for a falcon than a tiercel. Mr. O'Keefe
used eyess falcons for this flight, and once killed with them on the
Curragh of Kildare as many as 117 in three weeks. William Barr had
an eyess which, when entered to rooks, took as many as seven in nine
flights. Comet, belonging to Mr. Brodrick, took many rooks. It is
only rather exceptionally that a tiercel can be got to fly them. But
Mr. Newcome's passage tiercel, Will o' the Wisp, took them very well.
The difficulty which is generally experienced in entering falcons to
rooks is much greater in their brothers' case. And the superiority of
the passage hawk over the eyess is more marked in this flight than in
game-hawking. Besides peregrines, several other kinds of long-winged
hawks may be trained to take this quarry--gers of both sexes, lanners,
and perhaps some lannerets, and the shaheen falcon, both black and red.
No doubt the saker of both sexes would afford excellent sport with
rooks. I am not aware that the training of any of these hawks for such
a flight differs from that recommended for the peregrine.
For a rook-flight very open country is required. It would be no use to
attempt it in what is called a well-wooded district, or where hedge-row
trees grow as they do in the far greater part of cultivated England.
A single tree, or even tall bush, will ruin a whole square mile of
otherwise suitable ground. Nor is it sufficient that the land should
be clear of trees and buildings. Many other obstacles, such as tall,
stiff hedges, wire railings, and even sheep-folds, full or empty, are
detrimental to the sport. A flock of sheep, a drove of pigs, or even a
herd of cattle being driven along, is quite enough to utterly spoil a
good flight. Thus in all England there are but few places where you
can carry on this sport with success. Amongst them are parts of the
Berkshire and Wiltshire downs, and some of the South-downs, though
these are usually too undulating. Parts of Norfolk, especially near
Lakenheath, are good; and so are portions of the fen country, where
there is not too much water. In the North of England and in several
counties in Ireland there are moors and open spaces which do well.
It must not be supposed, however, that the passage peregrine, or any
other of the big long-winged hawks, any more than the eyesses, take
kindly to rook-flying. Some have so little fancy for this unattractive
quarry, that they can never by any skill be induced to fly them with
any zest. Generally it is necessary to use either a make-hawk or
bagged quarry for entering the beginners. The way in which such quarry
are used has been sufficiently explained in the last chapter. But,
as everyone does not know how to catch a rook, a few hints borrowed
from the sister art of bird-catching may not be out of place. The
commonest way of entrapping a rook is to send a boy up to the top of
a tree in a well-frequented rookery with the end of a string, with
which he can make a noose or nooses, and set them on the old nests to
which the birds resort before roosting for the night. At the moment
when the noisy crowd come back to the rookery and settle on their
accustomed perches, a simultaneous pull at several lines connected with
properly-laid nooses will generally secure a victim or more. Another
plan by which a rook is made to look even more foolish is to go round
with a plough in a field where rooks come to pick up the worms which
it turns up. The rook-catcher must be provided with a number of paper
hoods made like large extinguishers, and these he will place upside
down in the furrow with a tempting bait--grain, worm, or meat--in
their inside. The rest of the inside of each cap is well smeared with
bird-lime or some other very sticky matter; and the rook, in picking
at the food, may be hoped sometimes to hood himself. Then while in his
astonishment he struggles to get rid of this blinding fool's cap, he
may be picked up and carried off into captivity.
When the newly-entered hawk has taken his bagged rook, you must get up
as quickly as you can and make in at once. Then seizing the "pelt," or
dead body of the quarry, you must contrive so that the hawk, instead
of breaking in upon that unsavoury morsel, shall proceed by mistake
to begin her meal upon a pigeon which you have just before killed,
and which you surreptitiously substitute for by holding it side by
side with the dead rook. The object, of course, is to induce in her
ladyship's mind the belief that she is eating what she has killed,
and finds it uncommonly good. Eyesses are naturally deceived very
easily into this fallacious notion. As for passage hawks, it is quite
possible that many of them have no more idea than eyesses what a rook
tastes like. Unless they have ever been hard pressed for a meal, it
is more than probable that they have never condescended to dine off a
rook. Anyhow, they will not be at all unwilling to lend themselves to
a deception fraught with such gratifying results. "Dear me," may be
the haggard's inward reflection, "what a goose I have been all this
time never to pay any attention to these vulgar black birds! Why,
they taste as good as pigeon!" And the next time she has a chance of
paying attention, she will. This "personation trick" is invariably
used by Indian and Asiatic falconers in kite-flying with sakers. It
is necessary, or at least advisable, in entering hawks at herons,
gulls, and other coarse-fleshed birds. In the case of rooks it may be
discontinued after a short while, if it is found on a cautious trial
that the hawk will eat rook with any relish. Many falcons, when flying
rooks almost daily, are habitually fed upon the last victim they have
killed in the day. But it is not to be supposed that any hawk will be
very fond of such coarse viands; and some will not eat them at all.
Supposing now that the rook-hawk is safely entered, and a suitable
country found, the next thing is to also find a wild rook in a suitable
part of that country. And this is not altogether an easy matter. In
some very excellent districts, where the rooks are flown at every year,
they become excessively wary, and quite clever at avoiding the chance
of a good slip at them. The old birds, who have been spectators of
many a battle in the air in which one of their comrades was worsted
and lost his life, or who have perhaps even themselves done battle,
and escaped with great difficulty, become suspicious of all mounted
men. They remember very well and with a fluttering heart the appearance
of the little squadron of horsemen which once brought with them Lady
Long-wing, who made such a dreadful example of poor papa Caw-Caw. Who
can say that they do not remember the very faces and the green uniforms
of the murderous men to whom Lady Long-wing belonged? Anyhow, as they
strut on the hillside or pick about along the furrows, they are on
the alert directly a detachment of irregular cavalry comes in sight,
which looks at all as if it might be accompanied by hawks. Very often
their sentinels incontinently give the signal of alarm, and the flock
scuds off summarily to safer feeding-grounds. At all events they do
so long before they can be approached within what a beginner would
consider a reasonable distance. The result is that in order to get
within reach of such quarry it has sometimes been found necessary to
resort to stratagem. Rooks have been stalked by a falconer on foot
creeping along behind the shelter of a waggon, or actually disguised as
a farm labourer. Sometimes the hawking party will lie concealed under
the lee of a rick, waiting for a distant rook to cross within range,
or to be driven by mounted beaters in the direction of the ambush. And
after all precautions have been taken it is often useless to wait for a
short slip. The distance at which good passage hawks are now thrown off
at Wiltshire rooks will astonish a person who has never seen anything
better than a moderate eyess. A quarter of a mile is not considered
at all too long a start when a hawk is a fast one and in good flying
order. But the longer the start the better the country must be if you
are to score a kill.
A falconer on the look-out for rooks will often have to get over a
good deal of ground in the day. Twenty miles--without counting in the
flights--is probably rather under than over the average distance when
any considerable number of hawks are to be flown. It is, of course,
almost a necessity to be mounted; and it is well to have a horse under
you which is not new to the business, especially if you are to carry a
hawk yourself, or may be called upon to take one up. A horse which has
never been out with the hawks before is likely to be very much put out
by the ringing of the hawk's bell, and still more if she also flutters
her wings in a high wind. While following a ringing flight your eyes
will naturally be directed more towards the realms above than to the
ground over which you are galloping; and, as many of the downs on which
this sport is most often pursued abound in ant-hills, if your animal
stumbles over one of these obstacles you are likely to pay for your
inattention by a severe cropper. If it falls to your lot to take up the
hawk after she has killed, you must, of course, dismount. To enable you
to do this and devote your whole attention to it, a special apparatus
is provided. To the outside of your saddle will be attached a pocket,
within which can be fitted a leaden weight secured by a leather, the
other end of which can be attached to the horse's head, so that by
merely throwing the weight on the ground he is at once tethered. No one
of course presumes to take up another man's hawk unless it has been so
arranged beforehand, or in case of urgent necessity, as for instance
if the owner is not in sight, and there is danger that the hawk may be
attacked on the ground by some deadly enemy. Of course rook-hawking
may be attempted on foot. But unless markers are posted skilfully at
the places where a hawk is likely to go out of sight, there is great
risk of losing her. Moreover, it is impossible to see much of the best
flights. A great deal of time will be wasted in moving about between
each flight; and still more in shifting the markers from place to
place, as well as in finding the hawk after a long flight which has
ended in a kill. The rook-hawker on foot comes back footsore, and very
weary. And he is lucky if these are the only ills of which he has to
complain.
Rook-hawks which have been brought out to fly, but are not for the time
actually engaged, either because their turn has not come, or because
they have already flown and been fed up, are either carried about by a
cadger on the cadge, or made fast to a field-block in a well-sheltered
place, or consigned to perches rigged up in the inside of a van, which
can be drawn by a cart-horse. The latter plan is adopted by the Old
Hawking Club, by which more hawks are usually taken out than could be
accommodated on one cadge. It has the great merit of serving to protect
the inmates from the bitterly cold winds which often prevail in the
rook-hawking season, and also from the rain. Such a van should be well
provided with springs. Otherwise the jolting, while it passes over
rough ground, as it needs must, would do almost more mischief than the
wind or rain. In any case, whether you go singly with a single hawk on
your fist or with a whole cadge full or van full of hungry peregrines,
the hood will be worn. Nor will it be removed until the moment arrives
when the wearer is to be thrown off. But when any hawk is being carried
with a view to a flight the swivel will be detached from the jesses and
the latter held tightly in the fingers of the left hand. Some falconers
who use ring swivels in the field, take them off directly the hawk is
taken on the fist for the purpose of being flown, and then slipping
the leash through one ring of the swivel and afterwards through the
loops in the two jesses, are ready to pull it out quickly when there
is a rook in sight and it becomes possible that they may have to throw
off at any moment. Some also, when a flight is pretty sure to begin
shortly, loosen the hood's braces without taking it off, so that there
may be no delay in whipping it off at exactly the right moment. No one
has ever been able to explain how it is that peregrines can emerge
suddenly from utter darkness into the full glare of daylight, with
eyesight as good as ever, ready in the very first moment to catch sight
of a distant rook and to begin the chase. That they have this faculty
everyone knows who has ever seen a rook flown by a trained peregrine.
Fortunate for the falconer that it is so, as he can choose his own
moment for the throw-off.
If you are intending to fly a hawk for the first time at a wild rook,
get some other person who is out with a made hawk to be also ready
with her. Then, if the first chance at a rook is not an easy one,
let that other person throw off his hawk and keep yours for a less
difficult flight. Wait, if possible, until you can find a quarry which
is not too far off and not high in the air. If you can get up within
a hundred yards or so of one on the ground to windward of you, so
much the better. The moment he jumps up, off with the hood, and with
a steady movement of the left arm forwards, something like that of a
left-arm slow bowler, launch your hawk into the wind. Use whatever cry
of encouragement you like, or use none at all; at anyrate, not any cry
which you may have used in calling off. And if, in the excitement of
the moment you should not throw away the hood, but stuff it into your
pouch or pocket, that will also be satisfactory. If you drop it you are
not likely to find it on the open down without some hours' search, if
at all. Such presence of mind is, however, I am aware, rather too great
to expect.
A rook with any self-respect about him will begin to mount as soon as
he is aware that he is being pursued. And of this fact he will not
be long in ignorance. Seldom does a trained hawk make half a dozen
strokes of her wing before the quarry espies her and knows exactly
what she means. With this knowledge the black-a-moor of the air wakes
up, and then, if never before, he is on his mettle. Few people know
how a rook can fly until they have seen him in front of a peregrine
which means business. His wings are broad and strong, and not much
worse shaped than a hawk's. His muscles are good; and by reason of
much daily exercise in all weathers he is in good condition--better
far, perhaps, than your passage hawk, which was cooped up inactive for
weeks, and only during the last fortnight or so has had a modicum of
exercise while flying to the lure. The two birds will breast the wind
as they mount; but not necessarily taking the same line. Sometimes the
two lines will diverge so much that from your point of view behind, the
birds seem to be flying away from one another. Generally speaking, the
better the hawk the less slavishly will she follow the course taken
by the quarry. She flies "with her head," and, trusting for victory
to the long, powerful stoop, concentrates her efforts on attaining to
a position from which she can deliver it to best advantage. Thus if,
the wind being north, and the safest shelter west, the rook shapes
his course to the north-west, the falcon may very probably steer due
west. By doing so she makes sure that she will soon be almost between
the quarry and that desirable place of refuge. To make it he must come
right past her and under her. Or else he must keep away and make for
another covert, and in that case he will have a long way to go; and
there will be time to catch him up, and get between him and that other
haven. To passage hawks, especially haggards, this finessing is the
A B C of scientific flying. Moreover, an experienced hawk does not
always choose to stoop exactly up-wind, but prefers, for some reason
of her own, to come at her victim sideways. There are mysterious laws
and principles of aërial steering, which no man understands, but which
sometimes make a stoop more telling when made in a direction unexpected
by the riders down below. Eyesses are generally some time before they
learn the art of utilising the wind to increase the force of their
stoop, and of using their heads to help their wings. Some, it is true,
seem to be born good tacticians, or at least to have instinctively
learnt to be so while flying at hack. But these are quite the
exceptions. Not only do eyesses as a rule begin with an inferior style,
but very few of them ever attain to the perfection of form which long
practice in all weathers at all sorts of different quarry has taught
the old wild hawk.
As the two birds mount, the hawk naturally gains on the rook. She is
the quicker flier; sometimes, perhaps, by a hundred per cent., but
generally much less than this. Going down-wind there is not so much
difference between them, when both are at the same height. But the
start at a rook should always be up-wind. To throw off at a down-wind
rook is bad falconry. When a rook means to "keep the air," or beat
the hawk in fair flying, he will, after a while, begin to ring, that
is, to ascend spirally in circles. Why he should do this, instead
of continuing in a straight line, no one, I think, has properly
explained. But the road upwards for most birds when they are exerting
themselves--be they kites, herons, rooks, or larks--is in spiral
circles more or less regular, a very obliging dispensation of nature
for those who want to look on at a high flight! For while the ringing
lasts the horsemen down below need not hurry themselves. Only, if there
is anything of a wind they should always keep moving, so as to be
well to leeward of the flight, shifting their ground to right or left
according as the circles seem to tend in one or the other direction.
The higher the quarry goes the faster and farther will be the headlong
dash down-wind if he is beaten in the air. After a while, if the hawk
perseveres, her superior flying powers will take her above the quarry.
At what time and height this desirable result is brought about depends,
of course, partly upon the speed of the one bird and partly on the
speed of the other. There is a saying among falconers that a good hawk
makes a bad quarry, meaning that a rook or other bird which might give
a fine flight when only a moderate hawk was behind him very often
makes quite a poor show against a first-rate performer. It may also
be said with some truth that a good quarry makes a bad hawk, inasmuch
as hawks which have flown many a good flight and killed many a fairly
fast-flying rook may sometimes find themselves pitted against such
exceptionally strong ones that they seem unable to get above them, and
give to the stranger an appearance of being slow themselves.
A good and experienced falcon or other rook-hawk will not be content
with merely getting above her quarry before she makes her first stoop.
She will go on ringing until she is so far above that the first stoop
will be a good one. That is to say, that she may be able to get such an
impetus upon her in the dash downwards as to rush up to the rook hand
over hand, or, as the racing men say, as if he were standing still.
And, having so run up to him, that she may, if she misses him, utilise
the remainder of her impetus in shooting up again in preparation for
a second stoop. The rook, on his part, when he finds the falcon above
him, has to choose between two courses. Either he will persevere in
trying to keep the air--and in that case must trust to quick turns and
twists to elude the foe--or he will adopt the less valiant but almost
equally dangerous alternative of a race to the nearest covert, with
the necessity of eluding a certain number of stoops on the way. In
the first case the flight will become a sort of improved version of
coursing. Improved, because a bird has so much more varied chances of
throwing out his pursuer than the hare, which can turn only either to
the right or the left. He must always be on what the mathematicians
call the same plane. The rook, on the other hand, may, if he likes,
double simply to right or left. But he may also, if he prefers it, duck
downwards or shoot upwards, allowing the hawk to pass over him or under
him. Or he may turn partly upwards or downwards, and partly to either
side. Thus there are an unlimited number of angles at which he can
swerve away to avoid the stroke.
The art and science of "shifting" is indeed one of the most elaborate
that is possessed by the dumb creature. Almost all birds cultivate it
to a certain degree. Instinct suggests it to them; but many birds
improve upon their natural powers by frequent practice. Who has not
seen one rook chasing another, either in sport or in a petulant
humour, and the fugitive evidently enjoying the fun of throwing out
his persecutor? In the tropics there is nothing that a crow likes
better than stooping at kites; and nothing that the kite takes greater
pride in than showing how easily he can elude the shots so made at
him. I have seen pigeons, when a slow or lazy peregrine is in the air,
deliberately hang about within reach of her for the express purpose of
enjoying the amusement of successfully shifting when she makes a dash
for them. Indeed, it will be seen in Chapter XIX. that I saw this game
played rather too rashly by a house-pigeon with a trained ger-tiercel.
It has been said that the rook in full plumage is no mean flier. He
has also a good head on his glossy shoulders, and he shifts cleverly
enough while his lungs and muscles hold out. He does not often lose his
head, in the metaphysical sense. Sometimes, when particularly close
shots graze him, or even feather him, he is frightened into wasting a
little breath in an angry complaining croak. But this is almost the
only piece of stupidity that can be alleged against him. Usually,
however hard pressed, he keeps all his wits about him; and when he is
beaten in the air, it is oftenest from sheer want of speed and want of
wind. The violent effort required to escape by shifting a good stoop of
a first-rate peregrine takes it out of him terribly. The whiz of the
falcon as she rushes by is enough to make the stoutest heart quail. But
cowardice is not the weak point of the rook, who, for the most part,
has a determined and fair struggle for his life.
Of course the stoop takes it out of the hawk also. But then the hawk
has two great advantages. She is the faster bird, and she is better at
the "throw up." This is the counter-move by which she responds to the
shifts of the quarry. A good long-winged hawk, after an unsuccessful
stoop, immediately shoots up to a great height above the place where
the stoop was intended to take effect. She rebounds, as it were,
from the rapid descent, glancing upwards with wide open wings to a
new position of advantage. And herein she has the advantage of the
greyhound. The farther the dog is thrown out, the more laborious is
the work of getting into position for the next attack. But a falcon
may come past her quarry with as much way on as ever she can command.
That impetus need not carry her away to a disadvantageous position,
but, on the contrary, to one where she is still admirably placed for a
fresh stoop. By throwing up well and with good judgment, and sometimes
a little luck, a good hawk after once getting well above her rook will
keep the command of the air for the rest of the flight. The quarry may
throw up too; but if his pursuer makes the most of her first advantage,
he will always find her above him after he has done so. It may be that
she will be very wide of him. But distance calculated in mere length
counts for comparatively little. It is the distance in height from the
earth below that makes all the difference.
Consequently, if the rook persists in trying to keep the air, and
Lady Long-wing has the pluck and the condition to keep up the chase,
the time comes sooner or later when the shift is not strong enough or
not quick enough. Then as you watch the two birds--or the two little
specks, as they may by that time have become--the lines along which
they are moving will be seen to converge and not separate again. There
will be a shout of jubilation from below. "Who-whoop": it is the
death-cry. One of those eight sharp talons which, half hid by feathers,
arm the lower side of the hawk's body has hooked itself into some bone,
or at least some fleshy part, of the victim's body. Then from the under
side of the slim falcon, as she spreads her wings and sinks nearer into
sight, will be seen hanging a confused mass of black shiny feathers. As
the two birds--victor and vanquished--come down to earth, the former
will sometimes be seen tightening her grasp or catching hold with the
second foot. At anyrate, within less than a second after they have
reached the ground, the deadly clutch of the conqueror will be on the
head of the conquered. In another second or two the point of her beak
will have broken the victim's neck at the top of the vertebral column.
No man can encompass the killing of a rook so speedily and neatly as
can a peregrine. Within a marvellously short time after the last stoop
was delivered, the head of the captured bird droops inert from the
dislocated neck, and life is completely extinct.
[Illustration: _Death of a Rook_]
Such is the finish of a ringing flight flown out on both sides with
unflagging courage--the sort of flight which every true sportsman would
like to see often in the hawking-field. But much more often the rook,
when getting the worst of it in the air, abandons the hope of beating
his foe in fair mounting and fair manoeuvring. Taking advantage of some
moment--perhaps after an ineffectual stoop--when his foe is a trifle
wide, and on the side farthest from a covert which he has marked as
a possible place of refuge, he turns tail, and makes off--down-wind
if possible, or if not, across the wind--to that seductive shelter. A
wood or spinny is what he would prefer, but a tree of any kind will
do--the taller the better. A farmyard or a flock of sheep, even a
hedge or an empty sheep-fold, or a waggon--anything behind or around
which he can save himself from the dreaded stoop. In any, even of the
least effective refuges, there will be at least a respite. And if that
very poor stronghold is found untenable, he can begin a fresh retreat
to a more promising place, with recovered wind, and perhaps better
luck. Often a rook will make for a rather distant plantation, with a
nearer shelter of an inferior kind in view as a _pis aller_. The hawk,
of course, knows as well as he what he is after, and follows at her
best pace. Now is the time to ride hard. Even with a moderate wind
the birds will be travelling over a mile a minute. Ride as you will,
they will be over your head long before you are near the covert, if it
is at all distant. Lucky if you are even in time to be near when the
first down-wind stoop is delivered. The down-wind stoop of a peregrine
is terrible. It is often avoided, no doubt, but the impetus, if she
misses, carries her on right ahead of the rook, over the place where
he must pass if he goes on. And there she is, blocking the way to
the desired haven. She can poise herself steadily for the next shot,
choosing her own time for it, and will have every possible advantage
over the rook, which has to run the gauntlet of those eight dagger-like
talons. The last stoop before reaching covert is very often fatal.
The hawk knows that probably it is her last chance of catching hold,
whereas in the open she is aware that a very fast stroke, though not
quite accurately aimed, will do a great deal towards taking the nerve
and strength out of her quarry, and make him easier to hit later on.
If the rook once makes a plantation of any size, he is safe. No human
power can drive him out. Peregrines, of course, will not go into cover
after their quarry. Now and then a young hawk at hack will try to do
something vague in the way of cutting down or dislodging a bird which
has put in; but such attempts are dismal failures, and are hardly ever
even thought of by "grown-ups." If the rook has put in to a very low
tree or a tall hedge, he may often be dislodged by throwing sticks
and stones at him, or sending a boy up. Sometimes snapping a cap on a
pistol, or cracking a whip, or making any other sudden and loud noise,
will put him on the wing again. But before going far, he is only too
likely to put back to the same place, or to a neighbouring tree, if
one is near, or to another part of the hedge. Even when the shelter
is only a low line of hurdles, it is quite difficult to hustle out a
rook so that the peregrine, waiting on above, may have a fair shot at
him. A big tree is generally a safe refuge. If you send anyone up, the
refugee will only shift his quarters to another branch. And all the
time while you are trying to get him out, the hawk will be circling
above--if, indeed, she does not get tired of waiting, and start after
some other quarry. With a passage hawk which has not long been at work,
you cannot risk keeping her long in the air on the chance of your
routing out a rook that has put in. She may check at a passing pigeon,
or at a quite distant flock of rooks, or any other bird which she was
once wont to kill, and then, even if you are well mounted, you will
have great difficulty in keeping her in sight. If, therefore, you are
hawking with a passager, and cannot get your rook out quickly, take her
down with the lure, and have a try later on at another rook in the open.
If the hawk kills, the falconer will get up at once, and "make in" in
the manner described in the chapter on Entering. There is not much
danger of any attempt to carry when the quarry is as big a bird as a
rook. But caution should be observed, nevertheless, as, if you are
rough or in a hurry, you may induce in the hawk a disposition to carry,
which on some future occasion may cause no end of trouble. Do not even
now let your hawk feed upon the rook, unless you are quite sure that
she likes such food. Take care that from the first she shall be well
pleased with having taken this quarry, which is not the one she is
predisposed to fancy. If in doubt about her liking for rook's flesh,
substitute a pigeon. And it is as well to be contented with one kill on
the first day. A fresh flight might not end so happily, and would then
partly annul the good effect of the one that has succeeded. Besides,
you want to reward your hawk for her victory by giving her a good feed
at once, which of course you could not do if you intended to fly her
again. Be well satisfied, therefore, that the first step has been made
towards making a good rook-hawk. After a few more flights, if even a
moderate percentage of them end well, your pupil will begin to take a
delight in the business. Sometimes she will become so keen at it that
you can freely let her feed upon the last rook she kills in the day.
Only do not give her too much of this food. It would be a thousand
pities if, after having acquired a liking for this flight, she should,
for the sake of a small economy to her owner, be allowed to become
disgusted with it.
Rooks may be flown as soon as the passage hawks are trained. Old
peregrines can of course be flown at any time (except when there are
young rooks in the nests). But the winter and early part of the year is
the best time, as later on the young crops preclude the possibility of
riding over arable land; and it is impossible to ensure that the area
of a flight shall be confined to the open downs. It is on some broad
expanse of turf, however, that the quarry should be found, if you are
to enjoy a good gallop and a proper view of the flight; for if you have
to jump fences, you must needs take your eyes off the birds, and it
may then be difficult to catch sight of them quickly again. You should
not fly at a rook if there is any tolerable covert within half a mile
down-wind, or a third of a mile on either side. The distance up-wind to
the nearest covert need not be so great. When a rook is just rising off
the ground, you can of course give him more law than when he is already
on the wing. For, as has been said, height in the air counts very
much more than distance along the flat. Even the small elevation from
which a hawk starts as you carry her on horseback gives her a certain
advantage over the rook which is only just off the ground. Rook flights
often end more than a mile in a straight line from the start. But
generally this is equivalent to saying that the distance flown has been
more than double as much, by reason of the doublings and up-and-down
dashes which both birds have made. In following a flight, it is best to
keep about a quarter of a mile to leeward, or as near this as you can
get, while keeping a good view of the scene. As the rook gets higher,
still keep well to leeward, until you are pretty sure what covert the
rook will ultimately make for. A little practice will generally enable
you to make a pretty good guess, although perhaps for a while the rook
may be heading a different way. If you are wrong, and find yourself
thrown out, perhaps the best plan is not to ride hard in the vain hope
of getting nearer, but take out your field-glasses, and watch the
flight from about where you are. Each man out who knows enough about
hawking to be able to take up a hawk, should carry a spare lure, so
that, in case of a lost hawk, he may try for her in his own direction,
while others are engaged on the same task in theirs. Agree beforehand,
however, with the owner of the hawk, that if you find her you may take
her up.
Falcons are generally flown single at rooks, except at the time of
entering them with a make-hawk. In a double flight I think that the
rook is as a rule a bit overmatched, that is, if the hawks are in
proper fettle. But for entering a backward hawk, or encouraging one
which does not take kindly to this flight, it is very useful to use
a make-hawk, that is to say, one which is already keen in the cause.
Most hawks are very strongly influenced by example; and a young eyess
particularly, recognising as she does the superior style of a haggard
or passager, will readily imitate her, and join in a chase upon which
she sees that the other has embarked. A double flight is very pretty,
and very effective. The way in which the two hawks assist one another,
waiting each for her turn to stoop, and making her plans so as to
profit by the action of her comrade for increasing the force of her own
strokes, is interesting even to the most careless observer of animal
life. But the double flight is better reserved for such more arduous
undertakings as the pursuit of kites, herons, and gulls. A few words
will be said in a later chapter about these quarry and the sport they
afford. But in all the main particulars it resembles that which has
been here described. The rook flight is at once the commonest and the
most typical form of sport when the hawks are flown out of the hood;
and he who has successfully trained a peregrine to this business should
have no great difficulty in making any other of the large long-winged
hawks to such other quarry.