Merlins are pigmy falcons. Like falcons, they are reclaimed for hawking purposes, but are regarded as mere toys by those who indulge in “the sport of kings.”

In the days when falconry was a fashionable pastime in England nearly every lady of quality possessed a merlin, which was often as much of a companion as a dog is nowadays. The exquisite little bird of prey would accompany its mistress on her rides or her walks, flying overhead and coming to the glove when called. This species, being the only kind of merlin found in England, is popularly called the merlin (Æsalon regulus), even as Cuculus canorus is always known as the cuckoo, as though it were the only cuckoo in the world.

The merlin when trained for falconry is usually flown at the skylark. There are few prettier sights than that presented by a contest between a merlin and a skylark. Both know that the merlin can do nothing until it gets above its quarry; hence the contest at first resolves itself into one for supremacy of position. The adversaries often fly upwards in spirals until they almost disappear from view. When once the merlin does succeed in getting above the lark it makes swoop after swoop until it strikes its quarry.

In India the merlin is often trained to fly at the hoopoe. This contest is of a nature very different from that just described. The hoopoe does not rely on speed. It trusts to its truly marvellous power of timing the onslaught of the merlin and swerving at the critical moment, so that the merlin misses it by a hair’s breadth. So great a master of aerial manoeuvre is the hoopoe that two merlins working together are required to accomplish its downfall.

As the plumage of Æsalon regulus has the nondescript colouring that characterises most birds of prey, no useful purpose will be served by an attempt to describe it. The merlin is a winter visitor to India, and visits only the Punjab and Sind.

There is, however, another species of merlin which is a permanent resident in and distributed throughout India, viz. the red-headed merlin (Æsalon chicquera) or turumti as the bird is popularly called. Like the common merlin it is one of the smaller pirates of the air, being no larger than a myna, but it is the very quintessence of ferocity, and it knows not what fear is. Hence it is a terror to many creatures of greater magnitude than itself. The red-headed merlin is comparatively easy to identify, because it has some distinctive colouring, in the shape of a chestnut-red head and neck. The remainder of the upper plumage is French grey, marked with fine brown cross-bars. There is a broad black band with a white edge across the end of the tail. The chin, throat, and under parts are white, with brown spots, which become less plentiful as the individual grows older. This disappearance with age of the markings on the lower parts is very common among birds of prey, and is one of the many problems of animal colouring that do not appear to be explained by the theory of natural selection.

The hen turumti is about fourteen inches in length, of which six consist of tail. The cock, as is usual among raptores, is somewhat smaller than the hen.

The red-headed merlin occurs only in India. It is an evil manufactured for the sole benefit of the small birds of Hindustan. The turumti does not appear to undergo any periodical migration. It preys chiefly upon small birds. Social larks, little ringed plovers and sparrows are its commonest victims. But it is not afraid to tackle larger birds. Frequently it attacks mynas, starlings, quails, and doves. Indeed the usual lure bird for a red-headed merlin is a myna. This is tethered to a stick stuck into the ground, and in front of it is stretched a net attached to upright posts. The first turumti to observe this swoops down at the myna to find itself hopelessly entangled in the net. Hume once saw a red-headed merlin strike a pigeon and kill it with the first blow. Turumtis do not confine their attention to birds. The alert little palm squirrel is often victimised, as are sometimes those bats that are so unwary as to venture forth before the merlins go to bed.

When pursuing their operations in the open turumtis frequently hunt in couples, and, as they fly exceedingly swiftly, no matter how speedy the quarry be or how adept in swerving in the air, it is rarely able to escape from the concerted attack of a pair of these little furies.

Red-headed merlins are addicted to perching on the telegraph wires that are stretched alongside railway lines. They do this in order to pounce down into the midst of a flock of small birds alarmed by the noise of a passing train. The turumti, like the sparrow hawk, is a sprinter rather than a long-distance flier, and hence is able to secure its quarry in gardens, groves, and other comparatively confined places. It is fond of gliding with great rapidity along some hedgerow or bank and swooping down on any small bird feeding in the vicinity.

The turumti is not often used for purposes of falconry, which is somewhat surprising, seeing that it affords better sport than does the shikra, because it does not give up the chase so readily. When trained it is usually flown at the blue jay or roller (Coracias indica). “In pursuit of this quarry,” writes Jerdon, “the falcon follows most closely and perseveringly, but is often baulked by the extraordinary evolutions of the roller, who now darts off obliquely, then tumbles down perpendicularly, screaming all the time and endeavouring to gain the shelter of the nearest grove or tree. But even here he is not safe; the falcon follows him from branch to branch, and sooner or later the exhausted quarry falls a victim to the ruthless bird of prey.”