Gulls, Heron, Kite, Duck, etc.
The flight at gulls is so similar to that at rooks, although much more
difficult, that I should be tempted to say no more concerning it, were
it not that I have been favoured by Mr. St. Quintin, who is the great
authority on the subject, with some most interesting details of this
sport. There can be no doubt, I think, that of all flights in which
peregrines can now be flown out of the hood in England, gull-hawking
is the best. It requires a cast of hawks; and these must be of special
excellence, and in the height of condition, if any success is hoped
for. Tiercels may be used as well as falcons; eyesses as well as
passagers; but of course the probabilities of success are less with the
smaller and less-experienced hawks. In the case of the herring-gull,
indeed, the quarry falls so heavily, when taken, that a small hawk is
apt to be badly shaken, and may thus become disgusted with the whole
business.
Of the three kinds of gull, the largest, the herring-gull, is also the
least difficult to take. He makes something of a fight of it on the
ground when taken, and can, of course, bite hard if the hawk gives him
a chance. Next to him in order of difficulty comes the common gull; and
last in order is the black-headed gull, which will hardly be vanquished
except by a cast of very first-rate hawks, and then on a calm day.
All gulls have a great advantage when the wind is high, and usually
escape, so that it is best not to fly them at such times, for fear of
discouraging the hawk. Peregrines must be entered at bagged gulls, and
fed after a kill on pigeon, or some very palatable food. It is also
very advisable to use a make-hawk when available. On a very still day
it is possible that a single hawk in good practice might take a common
gull at the first stoop, if she had a good start; but if that failed,
the quarry would most likely escape.
The best idea of gull-hawking will be given from a few quotations from
the diary of Mr. St. Quintin, who considers it a very good day's work
to kill two such quarry. On one occasion an old tiercel, Destiny (who
was flown for no less than eight seasons), was taken out with a very
fast eyess tiercel called Kismet. Thrown off at a gull "on passage,"
that is to say, passing on the wing, the hawks rattled off high in
pursuit, when a flock of starlings got up under them, and Destiny,
turning over, picked up one, while Kismet, getting above the gull,
killed him at the first stoop. Later on Kismet was flown single-handed
at a flock of gulls with a long slip, and again managed to kill with
his first stoop. Destiny was also slipped single at a gull, but, after
putting in stoop after stoop for at least three-quarters of a mile,
was fairly beaten, the quarry apparently reaching the river Derwent.
As the party hurried after him he came back quite flown out, and was,
of course, not flown again that day. These hawks were at the time
in first-rate condition. Another year, Gulliver, a very fast eyess
tiercel, belonging to the Old Hawking Club, was taken out to be flown
with Starlight, who had more experience and was a very high flier.
The gulls were spread along a long furrow, and the two hawks went
for different ones. After Gulliver had fetched his quarry and put in
two stoops, Starlight, leaving his gull, came to the assistance of
the other hawk, and went at the quarry with a smashing stoop. This,
however, the gull avoided; and a long bout of good stooping followed,
the eyess sticking to the work pluckily, but showing signs of fatigue,
while the other hawk mounted high for a decisive shot. This, however,
also failed, and the gull, showing once more above both hawks, went off
scathless, leaving them both with "bellows to mend." Destiny and Kismet
on another occasion were thrown off together at a mixed flock of gulls.
They again divided, Kismet singling out a very large but immature
herring-gull, which he hit hard several times, and finally brought down
almost on his owner's head, while Destiny took after a common gull,
and killed him three-quarters of a mile down-wind. In the winter of
1889-90 Mr. St. Quintin was so successful as to take forty-three gulls
in seventy-seven flights.
Heron-hawking is a subject which, as far as England is concerned,
belongs rather to history than to practical falconry. A great deal of
nonsense, as well as a good deal of truth, has been written about it,
but those who feel interested must be referred to the excellent account
given in the work, already referred to, by Schlegel and Wulverhorst,
of the proceedings of the Loo Club in Holland.[3] I have talked with
Mr. Adrian Möllen, the falconer of that club, and heard from him that
the sport differed in no respect from rook-hawking, except that the
heron was always flown "on passage," when already high in the air, and
that two passage falcons were flown together. He told me that he had
very seldom found any real difficulty in entering a passage falcon, and
never lost one of his own training by any accident except once, when
the mischief arose in a strange way. The hawks were mounting, when the
heron disgorged a good-sized fish. At this one of his falcons stooped
as it fell, took it, and made off to an inaccessible place, where she
devoured almost the whole of it, and afterwards died of indigestion.
In India heron-hawking is still practised, but there is not the same
enthusiasm about it as there was in Europe some centuries ago, or in
the days of the Loo Club.
[3] This famous society was started by the Duke of Leeds and Mr.
Newcome, with the assistance of the Dutch falconer Bots, and had as
its president Prince Alexander of the Netherlands. In 1843, with forty
falcons it took about two hundred herons, almost all of which were
released with rings round their legs.
A much more favourite and exciting sport in India and other parts of
Asia is the flight at kites. In England the fork-tailed kite was flown
from very early times, and it is not a century ago since one afforded
a flight six miles in length in the Eastern Counties. For this very
fine flier gers were commonly used in the Middle Ages; and the kite
was enticed within range by turning out an owl with a fox's brush tied
to its feet. In India the Brahminy kite and the brown kite are both
very common, and are taken with sakers, as well as peregrines, and
occasionally by shaheens. I hear that eyess sakers are preferred, and
that they are never allowed to fly any other quarry until they are
slipped first at bagged kites. It is also necessary to make sure that
the hawk shall never taste the flesh of the kite when taken; as if once
this has occurred the saker is useless ever afterwards for this quarry.
It appears, however, that not many sakers are good enough to take the
kite, even when physicked and flown two together; and when they have
been made to it they command a very high price.
We must also now go to foreign countries, and especially to India,
to see duck-hawking, which was formerly so favourite a sport in the
British Islands. Duck are not now plentiful enough in England to
induce one to keep a hawk for them alone, although occasionally one
is taken by a game-hawk during the season. Hawking "at the brook,"
as it was called, was conducted on very much the same principles as
game-hawking in our own times. The hawk was thrown off and waited on
at a high pitch, while the duck were put up by water-spaniels working
in the water in concert with beaters on the bank. Much pains were
taken to drive the quarry in the right direction. The first stoop
would of course be the most dangerous to the rising duck, and if he
avoided this, there would often be a fine chase, as the duck, when
once fairly on the wing, is very swift, and severely taxes the powers
of the best peregrine. Peregrines are very keen after this quarry,
and indeed in some countries are commonly known by the local name of
"duck-hawks." In India the peregrine and the shaheens are both used for
this flight, which is highly esteemed, and, no doubt, quite as good as
grouse-hawking. It is certain that it was also a favourite sport in
China and Japan, where it may still be had by any adventurous sportsman
who travels so far.
A very lively and amusing flight is that at the magpie, which was
largely practised in Ireland until the middle of the nineteenth
century, and is still occasionally to be seen. It partakes of the two
characters of sport described in Chapters VII. and VIII. In fact, just
as the magpie is a parti-coloured bird, neither all black nor all
white, so the pursuit of him is neither wholly by flying from the fist
nor wholly from the pitch, but by a combination of the two. The magpie
is seldom to be found in very open country. You must therefore get
at him as you best can. A cast of hawks is flown; and often it is an
even chance that their wide-awake quarry will get off to some shelter
before either hawk has even had one shot at him. Then both hawks will
wait on, when they have become _au fait_ at the game, so as best to cut
off his retreat to another covert. The falconer meanwhile has to use
his best exertions to dislodge the fugitive from his place of rest. He
should be assisted by a large field, which must hurry up with all speed
to the spot, and by every imaginable device endeavour to rout out the
quarry. Sticks and stones are discharged. Hunting-whips are cracked.
Pistol-shots are even brought into requisition, and boys are deputed to
climb the trees. The tiercels--for tiercels are most commonly used for
this flight--wait on knowingly in advantageous places,--one sometimes
close to the covert, ready for a sharp, quick stoop; and the other at a
higher pitch, hoping for a long shot. The magpie is not a fast flier;
but he uses his head as well as his wings, and is ready whenever a
chance occurs to get back to covert. The beaters have often more to
do than the hawks, with shouting, running, pelting, and contriving by
their joint efforts to make the fugitive take to the open, where one
of the hawks can get a fair shot at him. But the latter must be staunch
at waiting on, good footers, and quick to take advantage of the efforts
made by their friends below. There is not much in this business of
what may be called the nobility of the noble sport,--none of the long
dashing stoops out of the clouds which you see in grouse-hawking, or
of the laborious mounting and ringing which you had with the gull or
rook. It rather resembles the hedge-row driving described later on
in the chapter on Sparrow-Hawks. But for those who like bustle and
excitement, and hard exercise for the legs and voice, few things will
beat magpie-hawking. And few things will demonstrate more clearly the
marvellous adaptability of the peregrine to the exigencies of the
case. A wild hawk would have no chance with a magpie, unless he caught
him unawares, crossing from one bush or plantation to another. But
the trained hawk, knowing that the men are working with him, joins
his efforts with a good will to theirs, and does exactly that which
you want him to do, and which it is best for him to do. As an example
of co-operation between man and hawk, a magpie-worry is not to be
excelled. Neither of the actors in the scene is any good without the
other; and if either fails to do the right thing at the right moment,
the whole play is spoiled, and both players disgusted. Tiercels, well
assisted, and well worked at their quarry, make very good bags. Mr.
St. Quintin and Colonel Brooksbank, with two tiercels, Meteor and
Buccaneer, killed forty-five in one campaign; and several other capital
scores have been made within recent years.
The green plover is such a common bird, and so easily found in open
ground, that it is a pity, in one sense, that he cannot be flown. The
unlearned may ask, Why not? The answer is, Because no hawk is good
enough to take him. By which I do not mean that no peewit is ever taken
by a peregrine. The wild peregrines take them not unfrequently; and
trained ones have now and then succeeded in cutting one down. But the
attempt to make trained hawks take them regularly, or even fly them
for any length of time, has always failed. John Barr, amongst others,
trained some picked tiercels specially for this quarry. When I saw
him some time after he had made this experiment, he assured me that
to kill peewits with trained hawks was impossible. Of course plovers
of all kinds are not more exempt than other creatures from the ills
that flesh is heir to. In fact, to judge from the tone of their cry,
and considering the way they have of sitting in wet feet without
changing their stockings, it may be supposed that they are often out
of sorts. Sometimes, doubtless, like other birds, they are infirm and
old. When labouring under any such disadvantage, even if it be only
rheumatism or a cold in the head, a chance peewit may be cut off and
reckoned in the hawk's score. Otherwise these birds are too clever
for even the best trained hawks. I have seen even bagged peewits make
such a complete fool of a falcon that she was ashamed of herself. They
did not exactly "fly round" the hawk, as the saying is, but they did
almost as much. They made rings underneath her as she was ringing up,
keeping in exactly that position where she could never get her head
towards them at all. Then if the hawk did manage to put in a stoop they
would face about so as to avoid the shot, and, with a great flop of one
wing, start away like phantoms in an unexpected direction. If the hawk
contrived to get at them from behind, they would take a sort of header
downwards, and, making a kind of somersault in the air, come up behind
the hawk with a manifest smile on their usually daft countenances.
On the downs in Wilts and Berks you will sometimes see a rook-hawk, or,
for that matter, a game-hawk, when coming back from an unsuccessful
flight, make a dash at a lapwing as he flounders about below. But the
creature generally shifts from the stoop with almost contemptuous
ease. Only in rare cases is he too slow. Mr. E. C. Pinckney once took
a lapwing with a very young eyess tiercel; that is, the hawk put him
in after a good flight, and he was picked up. But I do not think that
tiercel ever took another. There is therefore a chance for anyone who
wants to beat the record in the matter of plover-hawking. With two very
first-rate passage tiercels, or perhaps, better still, two shaheens,
the attempt might be made again. Whoever succeeded would thereby have
carved for himself a prominent niche in the falconer's temple of fame.
The Norfolk plover may be taken with a falcon or tiercel, generally
without great difficulty. Golden plovers would, I think, always escape,
unless they could be put up just under a hawk waiting on. Curlews and
several of the common sea-fowl might also be taken, if found at a
sufficient distance from the sea. The wild goose was formerly flown
with success in England by gers. Landrails, if they can be got to
rise, will, of course, fall an easy prey, and quail can also be taken,
though the sparrow-hawk or the merlin is the right hawk for them. They
are fast, but do not shift well. The jackdaw is faster than the rook,
and a better shifter. He is sometimes killed by a rook-hawk, and may
afford a very good flight. Pheasants, of course, will be caught by a
falcon when they get up in open ground. Colonel Sanford knocked down a
full-grown pheasant with a tiercel; but the little hawk could not hold
him on the ground.
Woodcocks have been flown with a great deal of success in comparatively
recent times, and have shown very excellent sport, requiring quite a
first-rate peregrine to take them well, and that usually after a long
and often high flight. Between 1823 and 1833 Mr. John Sinclair flew
woodcocks regularly in Scotland, and captured in one season as many as
fifty-seven with a falcon. Before this the Renfrewshire Subscription
Club did good execution with the quarry, and Colonel Thornton also
had some splendid flights. Sir Thomas Brown (cited by Harting, _Bibl.
Acc._ p. 27) says that a hawk, probably a peregrine, made a flight at
a woodcock nearly thirty miles in one hour. The mention of so long a
time suggests the inference that the quarry "put in" several times, and
was routed out. A famous account is extant in print of a woodcock very
well killed after an unusually high flight by one of Major Fisher's
peregrines.
Snipe are occasionally taken by peregrines that happen to be waiting
on when they rise. The first stoop is, of course, dangerous for the
snipe, but if he eludes that, a cast of the best tiercels will hardly
catch him. I have seen a female shaheen hawking at snipe for her own
pleasure, and saw her knock one down very close to me in the long
grass, but she could not find it. Waiting for me to serve her, she
remained for a while very near over my head, and even took a dead snipe
which I threw up for her, but finding it cold dropped it after a yard
or two's flying. Mr. St. Quintin once flew a snipe hard with a good
game-tiercel of his, which bested it in the air, but it got off by
means of continually putting in to a deep ditch.
Many other birds are taken occasionally by peregrines when they get
up under the hawk, either while waiting on or coming back from an
unsuccessful flight. I saw a male kestrel taken in this way--and very
easily too--by an eyess game-tiercel of Major Fisher's. Larks, too, are
now and then taken when the dog stands to them, and they are put up.
Major Fisher had a long flight once with a peregrine at a wild merlin,
which was very hard pressed, and at last put in to a thick hedge.
In some Oriental countries peregrines are commonly flown at hares; but
the sport is not one which would ever be popular in highly civilised
countries, for the falcon, or falcons, do not bind to the animal like a
goshawk. They deliver repeated stoops at the head of the unfortunate
creature, which is, of course, no match for them in speed, and thereby
in the long-run deprive it of what little wits it had to start with. In
course of time this repeated buffeting reduces it to a state of utter
bewilderment and exhaustion, so that it can be held by the falcons,
or seized by the dogs which sometimes follow the flight as their
allies. In England, of course, a hare may be put up by accident, and a
falcon, waiting on, may stoop at it instinctively. Parachute, the very
excellent eyess falcon already named, killed three hares in 1882. At
one of these she was flown intentionally, to show what she could do
with him. She kept striking him on the head till he was so exhausted
that she thought she could safely catch hold. But when she did so a
rough-and-tumble occurred, as it will in hawking with the goshawk;
and before it was ended, the very steady setter which was out thought
it time to run in and give the _coup de grâce_. These were all Scotch
hares; and the last-mentioned of them weighed a full 6 lb.