UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE VARIOUS KINDS OF FALCONS, AND DESCRIBES THE SPORT OF HAWKING AS ANCIENTLY PRACTISED IN ENGLAND.

“What is the name of this Eagle?” said Mary, on a subsequent evening, pointing to one of the specimens in Uncle Thomas’s Museum. “It seems to be much smaller than either of those which you have told us about, Uncle Thomas.”

“That,” said Uncle Thomas, “is not an Eagle. It belongs to the Falcon family, and is one of the most elegant of the tribe. It is the Peregrine Falcon, the species principally used when Hawking was practised as a field-sport. It is a very fine specimen, and was caught in the neighbourhood. It measured in length sixteen inches; and its wings, from tip to tip, three feet.

“The Peregrine Falcon,” continued Uncle Thomas, “is found in all the temperate and colder countries of Europe, but it prefers places where it can find rocky precipices, in which to build its nest. As it has great power of wing, however, it can soon transport itself from place to place. Some one estimates its rate of flight at about an hundred and twenty miles an hour; but even that is not so rapid as the Gyr-Falcon, which is said to fly at the rate of one hundred and fifty!

“A Falcon which belonged to Henry IV., King of France, on one occasion escaped from the Falconry at Fontainbleau, and was caught twenty-four hours afterwards in the island of Malta. The distance between the two places has been reckoned at 1350 miles, so that if the Falcon flew the whole time without stopping, it must have proceeded at the rate of fifty miles an hour. But as the Falcons never fly by night, supposing that it rested during the darkness, and flew only during eighteen hours, its flight was at the rate of seventy miles an hour. Even this computation, however,” continued Uncle Thomas, “is liable to considerable objections. The exact moment of its arrival at Malta cannot of course be told, as he might be in the island some time before he was discovered; and it is also probable that the day-light would not serve him to travel so long as eighteen hours.”

“I wonder how any bird escapes the Falcon since he flies so fast,” said John.

“The Instincts of the birds on which it preys,” said Uncle Thomas, “teach them many little wiles to escape their enemy, and it is seldom that the chase is one of mere power of wing. It was to this skill on the part of the birds that much of the interest of the sport was derived when Hawking was practised in England. I will tell you about the various modes of Hawking by and by, but there is a little story of the boldness and sagacity of the Peregrine, which I must first tell you;—A gentleman well known as an accomplished naturalist (Mr. Selby) relates that on one occasion when he was exercising his Dogs upon the moors, previous to the commencement of the shooting season, he observed a large bird of the Hawk tribe hovering at a distance, which, upon approaching, he knew to be the Peregrine Falcon. Its attention seemed to be drawn towards the Dogs, and it accompanied them whilst they beat the surrounding ground. Upon their having found and sprung a brood of Grouse, the Falcon immediately gave chase, and struck a young bird before they had proceeded far upon the wing, but the shouts of the sportsman, and his rapid advance, prevented it from securing its prey. The issue of the attempt, however, did not deter the Falcon from watching their subsequent movements, and another opportunity soon offering, it again gave chase, and struck down two birds by two rapidly repeated blows, one of which it secured and bore off in triumph.”

“The Falcon must have known that the Dogs were in search of game,” remarked Harry.

“Yes,” said Uncle Thomas, “and it must also have known that they would put up the birds; and as its general habit is to strike its prey on the wing, it no doubt reckoned that it would be very convenient to have them to do so, as its prey frequently escape by lying close and undiscovered among the herbage when they see their enemy approaching.

“The Gyr-Falcon, which I mentioned to you as exhibiting extraordinary speed,” continued Uncle Thomas, “is a larger bird than the Peregrine; the male generally measuring about twenty-two inches in length, and its wings stretching about four feet. The female, as is universally the case with birds of prey, is larger than the male. It is a native of the most northern countries of Europe; the rocky fastnesses of Iceland being its head quarters. This Falcon, from its great strength of wing, was held in great repute when the amusement of Hawking was in fashion. In Denmark, to which kingdom the island of Iceland belonged, there was a law which inflicted the punishment of death on any person destroying them, and the King’s Falconer, with a couple of attendants went annually thither in great state to receive such animals as had been captured during the year. The rewards paid to the captors were very high, about three pounds for the best, and from ten to forty shillings for others, according to the estimation in which they were held.

“Though naturally one of the wildest of birds, the Gyr-Falcon soon becomes familiar, and, when properly trained, is one of the best ‘Hawkers.’ Even in a state of nature it has been known to throw off its wild habits. An old gentleman in the South of Scotland was in the habit of resting during his morning walk on a seat beneath a wooded precipice. For two or three mornings a young Gyr-Falcon came and sat upon a bough above his head, and at last grew so familiar as to settle upon his shoulders. The gentleman was highly delighted with his new acquaintance, and brought it such food as, from a knowledge of these birds, he knew to be suitable. At length it ceased to meet him,—probably its wild nature, as it got older, subduing the gentle confidence which had dictated its first approaches. He often spoke with lively regret of this interesting friendship; remarkable in any point of view, but still more so when it is considered that the Gyr-Falcon is almost never seen in the place where the incident happened.”

“Perhaps it was a half-trained bird,” suggested Frank.

“Most likely it was,” said Uncle Thomas, “I cannot on any other supposition account for its familiarity. Besides the Peregrine and Gyr-Falcons, there were several others which were trained to Hawking; such as the Merlin, the Kestrel, the Lanner, the Sparrow-Hawk, &c. The former was held in high estimation as a lady’s Hawk, its weight being only six ounces, and, besides, being one of the swiftest and boldest of its tribe, it is most easily tamed and trained.”

“How are Hawks trained?” asked Jane. “I wonder they ever return when they once fly off after their prey.”

“The training of Hawks,” said Uncle Thomas, “was practised as an art; and in days when the sport was in high estimation it was one of considerable importance. The young birds were taken out of the nest when ready to fly, or caught in traps, and carefully secured in linen bags, with openings at each end for the head and tail, to preserve their feathers from injury. On their arrival at the falconry a hood was placed over their eyes, so as to blindfold them, and, thus imprisoned, they were left in perfect quiet for a day or two. The training of the noviciate then began. It was placed upon the wrist of the falconer, and carried about the whole day, and occasionally stroked with a feather, so as gradually to accustom it to being handled. Its hood was then taken off, and it was fed; the falconer making a particular call, which was invariably used when the bird was fed, and upon no other occasion. When it was so far trained as to alight on the hand when called, it was unhooded and ‘put to the lure’—an artificial bird, made of feathers, which was thrown up into the air, and at which it was induced to fly by attaching a live Pigeon, or part of a Chicken, which the Hawk was permitted to eat. To prevent its escape during this part of its education it was secured by a string. When perfect in this lesson it was advanced to the dignity of flying at live game, usually by means of a Duck, which was blindfolded to prevent its escape. By the repetition of the call when it had struck its quarry the Hawk was taught to return to its perch upon its master’s wrist, and when this was accomplished its lesson was complete. To prevent its flying off, it was secured by straps of leather or silk, called jesses, which were fastened round its legs, which were also generally ornamented with little bells, so as not to encumber it or interfere with its flight.”

“Is Hawking ever practised in England now?” asked Jane.

“It is occasionally,” said Uncle Thomas; “but so seldom that, as some one remarks, when the old gamekeeper of some ancient family crosses us with a Falcon on his wrist, he looks as if he had stepped out of a picture-frame, and the sight serves to remind us of a glory which has departed. It is, however, sometimes to be seen. Here is an account of a day’s Hawking, in the county of Norfolk.

“In June, 1825,” says the writer, “happening to be in Norfolk, I became an eye-witness to that most ancient and now very rare sport of Falconry; and I now relate what I actually saw, and which was to me most novel and entertaining. The place fixed upon for the sport was in the intermediate country between the Fens and the Heronry, and in the afternoon of the day, with the wind blowing towards the Heronry. There were four couple of casts of the female Peregrine Falcon, carried by a man to the ground upon an oblong kind of frame, padded with leather, on which the Falcons perched, to which they were fastened by a thong of leather. Each bird had a small bell on one leg, and a leather hood, with an oblong piece of scarlet cloth stitched into it, over each eye, surmounted by a plume of various-coloured feathers on the top of the hood. The man walked in the centre of the frame, with a strap from each side over his shoulder; and when he arrived at the spot fixed upon for the sport, he set down the frame upon its legs, and took off all the Falcons, and tethered them to the ground in a convenient shady place. There were four men who had the immediate care of the Falcons (seemingly Dutchmen or Germans), each having a bag, somewhat like a woman’s pocket, tied to his waist, containing a live Pigeon, called a lure, to which was fastened a long string; there were also some gentlemen attached to the sport who likewise carried their bags and lures.

“After waiting awhile, some Herons passed, but at too great a distance; at length one appeared to be coming within reach, and preparations were made to attack him. Each falconer was furnished with a brown leather glove on the right hand, on which the Falcon perched; and there was a small bit of leather attached to the leg of the bird, and which was held by the falconer between the thumb and finger. Each of the men thus equipped, with a Falcon on his wrist, and the bag with the lure tied to the waist, and mounted on horseback, proceeded slowly in a direction towards where the Heron was seen approaching. As soon as the Heron was nearly opposite, and at what I conceived a great height in the air, the falconers slipped the hoods from off the heads of the falcons, and held each bird on the wrist by the bit of leather, till the Falcons caught sight of the Heron, and then a most gallant scene ensued. The instant they were liberated, they made straight for their prey, though at a considerable distance ahead. As they were dashing away towards the Heron a Crow happened to cross, and one of them instantly darted at him, but he struck into a plantation and saved himself: the Falcon dashed in after him, but did not take him. The other Falcon soon overtook the Heron, and after flying round in circles for some time, at length soared above him, and then struck him on the back, and they both came tumbling down together, from an exceeding great height, to the ground. The other Falcon, having lost some time with the Crow, was flying very swiftly to assist his comrade, and had just come up at the time the Falcon and Heron were falling. At this instant, a Rook happened to fly across; the disappointed Falcon struck at him, and they both fell together within twenty yards of the other Falcon and the Heron. When on the ground, each Falcon began to pull to pieces its victim; but, as soon as the falconers rode up, the lures were thrown out, and the Falcons suffered to make a meal (having previously been kept fasting) upon the Pigeon, which was laid on the carcass of the Heron; and, after they were satisfied, were again hooded and put up for that day.

“The next cast consisted of two younger birds; and when let loose at another Heron, they flew up to it very well. But the Heron was an old one, and supposed to have been caught before; for the moment he was aware of the presence of his enemies, he began to soar into the air, and set up a loud croak; and these, not so experienced as the first two Falcons, would not attack him, but soared about and left him. Upon this, one of the falconers set up a peculiar call, to which, no doubt, the birds were trained; when one of them, from a very great elevation in the air, immediately closed his wings, darted down to the man who called him, and was taken in hand. This was a very extraordinary manoeuvre, and an instance of tractable sagacity. The other Falcon did not come to the call, but sailed about in the air. At length a Heron crossed, and the Falcon attacked it, but again left it. A third Heron also came in his way; this he also fell to work with, and, after a short struggle, brought him to the ground in the same style as the first. This last Heron had his wing broken, and the falconer killed him; but the first was taken alive, and was afterwards turned out before a single Falcon, which struck him down in a minute. I understood that when a Heron had once been taken by a Falcon he never made any more sport. It was the case with this one; for, the moment he saw his enemy coming towards him, he lost all his powers, and made a ridiculous awkward defence on the ground; where the Falcon would soon have despatched him, if the falconer and his lure had not been near at hand.

“The Heron,” continued Uncle Thomas, “is perhaps the most difficult prey with which the Falcon has to contend; and it was the skill and perseverance with which it opposed the attack of the Falcon, which gave Hawking this bird its peculiar zest. As it flies very high, it is extremely difficult for the Falcon to rise above it, so as to stoop upon it, in which act birds of this sort can most conveniently put forth all their powers. Even when the Falcon manages to attain the ascendancy its victory is by no means certain. In case the Heron is foiled in this, its most obvious means of escape, it turns its neck back upon its shoulders, and projects its bayonet-like bill upwards, behind its wing, and thus, should its pursuer pounce upon its head and neck, to which the attack of the Falcon is usually directed, it runs the greatest danger of being transfixed upon the long and sharp bill of the Heron. This attitude, indeed, serves another purpose; it protects these most vulnerable parts from injury, and should the Falcon, notwithstanding the danger to which it is exposed, strike at the wing of its prey, and thus disable it, on reaching the ground, the latter is still able to offer the fiercest resistance.

“Colonel Montague, on one occasion, brought the powers of the two animals to a direct test. He took a Falcon, about a year old, which had been taken from its nest before it could fly, and had never had an opportunity of killing any thing but a small bird occasionally, and having kept it without food for twenty-four hours, he introduced into the room where it was kept an old male Heron. As the object was, however, principally to see how the Instinct of the Falcon would develop itself, part of the Heron’s bill had been cruelly cut off. As soon as the Heron was in motion, the Falcon, which was also deprived of the means of flight, took post on a stool which was at one end of the room, and as the Heron, regardless of his enemy, traversed the apartment, the Falcon, motionless, kept her eyes fixed on her destined prey, till after several turns round the room, she judged the Heron was sufficiently near to effect her purpose, when she sprung at its head, intending to seize it with her talons. In this, however, she failed, the stool not having given her sufficient elevation to reach the high erect head of the Heron. This failure would probably have cost the Falcon her life, had the bill of her antagonist been perfect; for she received a blow on her body that must otherwise have inflicted a severe, if not a mortal wound from so pointed an instrument, urged with such power. Baffled in this attempt, and having received a severe blow, it was conjectured that no farther attack would be made till the calls of hunger became more urgent. The Falcon, however, soon regained her station, and it was not long before the Heron, regardless of his foe, again passed very near, when the Falcon, in a second attempt to seize her prey, as before, was equally foiled, and again received a severe check from the bill of the Heron. Finding her efforts had failed from want of the advantages Nature had assigned her, Instinct directed the Falcon to a box that stood on the opposite side of the room, which was somewhat higher. Here she again seemed to meditate another attack, by watching every motion of the Heron, who continued his rounds with a view to make his escape; and it was not long before an opportunity offered for the Falcon to make an assault from her more elevated station. Here she had found a humble substitute for those powers with which Nature so amply furnished her, but of which she had been deprived, and at last succeeded in springing from her perch, and seizing the unfortunate Heron by the head and upper part of the neck with her talons, which instantly brought him to the ground. Now the unequal contest was soon determined, for in vain did the superior weight and strength of the Heron drag and flounder with his enemy across the floor; in vain did he flap his unwieldy pinions to shake off the tyrant of the air, nor could even his gigantic legs force her from the bloody grasp; her work was short and certain; no efforts could compel her now to quit her deadly gripe, the powerful and only dreaded weapon of her antagonist was secured and thus disarmed, he became a sure and easy prey. Scarcely was the gigantic bird prostrate on the ground than death ensued; for in this noble race of Falcons, destined for blood and slaughter, torture makes no part of its nature; but, like what we are told of the generous Lion, exulting in death, but disdaining cruelty, in less than half a minute did the Falcon tear out the gullet and windpipe of the Heron, and regale on the head and neck.”

“It was very cruel to cut off the Heron’s bill, Uncle Thomas,” said Mary.

“I cannot in any view commend the experiment,” said Uncle Thomas; “though it certainly does in a very striking manner illustrate the Instinct of the Falcon in securing its prey. Here was a bird taken and domesticated before it could have seen its parents attack the animals on which they feed, yet we find that it exhibited all those peculiarities which distinguish its assaults in its native state—at once fixing on the most vulnerable part of its victim, and availing itself of the advantages which it could derive from pouncing down upon it from above, and thus giving additional force to its blow.

“Some of the Falcons” continued Uncle Thomas, “are very bold in pursuit of their prey. A Sparrow-Hawk has been known to enter a church while the congregation was retiring and bear off a Swallow which had taken refuge within the building. On another occasion a Kestrel pursued a Sparrow in at the window of a house, and so eager was it to secure its prey that the window was closed, and both were taken before it could escape. A person once saw a Falcon, called in America the Duck-Hawk, pursuing an aquatic bird, called the Razor-Bill, which, instead of assaulting as usual with the death-pounce from the beak, he seized by the head with both claws, and made towards the land; his prisoner croaking, screaming, and struggling lustily; but being a heavy bird he so far overbalanced his aggressor that both descended fast towards the sea, when just as they touched the water, the Falcon let go his hold and ascended; the Razor-Bill as instantaneously diving below.

“Wilson mentions an instance in which the Sparrow-Hawk was not deterred from pouncing on its prey even by the presence of a sportsman, with his gun ready to shoot it. ‘One day,’ says he ‘I observed a bird of this species perched on the highest top of a large poplar, on the skirts of a wood; I was in the act of raising the gun to my eye, when he swept down with the rapidity of an arrow into a thicket of briars about thirty yards off, where I shot him dead, and on coming up found a small Field-Sparrow quivering in his grasp. Both our aims had been taken at the same instant and unfortunately for him both were fatal.’

“A gentleman, who brought up a young Sparrow-Hawk, has published a very interesting account of its habits in a state of domestication. The experiment of domesticating such an animal was rather a hazardous one, as he had at the same time a stock of fancy Pigeons which he greatly prized. It seems, however, that kindness and ease had softened the nature of the Hawk, or the regularity with which he was fed rendered the usual habits of his family unnecessary to his happiness; for, as he increased in age and size, his familiarity increased also, leading him to form an intimate acquaintance with a set of friends who have been seldom seen in such society. Whenever the Pigeons came to feed, which they did oftentimes from the hand of their almoner, the Hawk used also to accompany them. At first the Pigeons were shy, of course; but, by degrees, they got over their fears, and ate as confidently as if the ancient enemies of their race had sent no representative to their banquet. It was curious to observe the playfulness of the Hawk, and his perfect good nature during the entertainment; for he received his morsel of meat without any of that ferocity with which birds of prey usually take their food, and merely uttered a cry of lamentation when the carver disappeared. He would then attend the Pigeons in their flight round and round the house and gardens, and perch with them on the chimney-top, or roof of the mansion; and this voyage he never failed to make early in the morning, when the Pigeons always took their exercise. At night, he retired with them to the dove-cot; and though for some days he was the sole occupant of the place, the Pigeons not having relished this intrusion at first, he was afterwards merely a guest there; for he never disturbed his hospitable friends, even when their young ones, unfledged and helpless as they were, offered a strong temptation to his appetite. He seemed unhappy at any separation from the Pigeons, and invariably returned to the dove-house after a few days purposed confinement in another abode, during which imprisonment he would utter most melancholy cries for deliverance: but these were changed to cries of joy on the arrival of any person with whom he was familiar. All the household were on terms of acquaintance with him; and there never was a bird who seemed to have won such general admiration. He was as playful as a kitten, and literally as loving as a dove.

“But that his nature was not altogether altered, and that, notwithstanding his education, he was still a Hawk of spirit, was proved on an occasion of almost equal interest. A neighbour had sent us a very fine specimen of the smaller Horned Owl, which he had winged when flying in the midst of a covey of Partridges; and after having tended the wounded bird, and endeavoured to make a cure, we thought of soothing the prisoner’s captivity by a larger degree of freedom than he had in the hen-coop, which he inhabited. No sooner, however, had our former acquaintance, the Hawk, got sight of him, than he fell upon the poor Owl most unmercifully; and from that instant, whenever they came in contact, a series of combats commenced, which equalled in skill and courage any of those which have so much distinguished that hero, who to the boldness and clearness of vision of the Hawk, unites the wisdom of the bird of Athens. The defence of the poor little Owl was admirably conducted; he would throw himself upon his back, and await the attack of his enemy with patience and preparation; and, by dint of biting and scratching, would frequently win a positive, as he often did a negative victory. Acquaintanceship did not seem in this case likely to ripen into friendship; and when his wing had gained strength, taking advantage of a favourable opportunity, the Owl decamped, leaving the Hawk in possession of his territory.

“The fate of the successful combatant was, however, soon to be accomplished; for he was shortly after found drowned in a butt of water, from which he had once or twice been extricated before, having summoned a deliverer to his assistance by cries that told he was in distress. There was great lamentation, when he died, throughout the family; and it was observed by more than one person, that that portion of the dove-cot in which he was wont to pass the night was, for some time, unoccupied by the Pigeons, with whom he had lived so peaceably even during the wars of the unfortunate Owl.

“In the East,” continued Uncle Thomas, “Hawking is still practised. In Persia, Sir John Malcolm saw the mode in which it is conducted in hunting Deer and smaller game. The hunters proceed with Hawks and Greyhounds to the places frequented by these animals. When the Antelope is seen, they endeavour to get as near it as possible, but the timid animal, the moment it sees its enemies approach, darts off at a rate swifter than the wind. The horsemen, having slipped the Dogs, follow at full speed. If it is a single Deer they at the same time fly the Hawk; but if a herd, they wait till the Dogs have selected a particular animal. Skimming along the ground, the Hawk soon overtakes the Deer, and as it is trained, pounces upon its head, and either stops it altogether by pecking out its eyes, or retards it so much that it is soon overtaken by the dogs. When he was at Shiraz, Sir John was presented with a very fine Royal Falcon. ‘Before going out,’ says he, ‘I had been amused at seeing Nuttee Beg, our head Falconer, a man of great experience in his department, put upon his bird a pair of leathers, which he fitted to its thighs, with as much care as if he had been the tailor of a fashionable horseman. I enquired the reason for so unusual a proceeding. ‘You will learn that,’ said the consequential master of the Hawks, ‘when you see our sport,’ and I was convinced, at the period he predicted, of the old fellow’s knowledge of his business. The first Hare seized by the Falcon was very strong, and the ground rough. While the bird kept the claws of one foot fastened in the back of its prey, the other was dragged along the ground, till it had an opportunity to lay hold of a tuft of grass, by which it was enabled to stop the course of the Hare, whose efforts to escape would, I do think, have torn the Hawk asunder, if it had not been so provided’.

“These,” said Uncle Thomas, “are nearly all the stories which I recollect about Hawks and Hawking, so I must stop for the night. I must not, however, omit to mention, as a curious fact in the natural history of these animals, that though in confinement Hawks do not retain their vigour more than a few years, it is probably a very long-lived bird. One is said to have been caught in Southern Africa, in the year 1793, wearing a gold collar, dated 1610, and known at that time to have belonged to James I. Though more than 180 years old, it was still in complete vigour.”

His little auditors then bid him good bye.