FOOTNOTES:
[223] Fārsī and Aḥmar Shāmī.
[224] The common crane is, in the air, an easier quarry than the heron. The struggle on the ground is, however, severe and highly dangerous, as the crane uses its sharp claw with great effect.
[225] Vide page 54, note [215].
[226] Some Indian and Persian falconers I questioned in Baghdad had never met with a falcon that answered this description. The Lagaṛ falcon (F. Jugger) of India—a desert falcon—does not answer to the description. Also it does not appear to be found in Persia or Asia Minor.
[227] Kulāg͟h-i kūchak u ablaq, presumably “the hooded crow,” common around Baghdad and in Persia. The author probably styles it “small” as compared to the raven, which is sometimes called by the same name. Vide page 46, note [186].
[228] Durrāj, “the francolin.”
[229] Chark͟h is the eyess saker, and bālābān the passage saker.
[230] There are four distinct seasons of the year, in Persia. The Spring, unlike the Indian Spring, is long and cool. The Saker falcon migrates from the Panjab much earlier than the peregrine.
[231] i.e., Turkish territory.
[232] Nejd, in central Arabia, directly west of Baḥrayn Island.
[233] Bāqir-qara T. and Siyāh-sīnah P.: both words signify literally “black breast.” The Arab gentleman mentioned in note [215], page 54, informed me that in certain localities the saker nests on the bare ground. Vide also page 115, note [491]. An Englishman told me that he once, in Wales, found two peregrine’s eggs laid on the bare open ground close to a cliff edge.
[234] Has māniʿī here the signification of “difficult of access”?
[235] Ḥijāz, a province on the Red Sea. It is not in Nejd.
[236] This is no sure test of swiftness, for a peregrine flown with a large and powerful saker often flies “cunning.” Vide note [178], page 42.
[237] I have known a saker that in the immature plumage was white and covered with spots (such a saker is styled in the Kapurthala State chītal charg͟h and is there considered useless for anything except hare) assume this red kestril-like plumage on its first moult.
[238] Unayza, name of a tribe and of a place in West Nejd. The tribe is famous for a breed of horses, larger and coarser than the Nejd breed. The name is said to be the diminutive of either anza, a “she-goat” or of anaza, a “javelin.”
[239] All sakers in a wild state occasionally prey on houbara. Trained haggards, but not young passage hawks, will as a rule take hare without being entered by a “train.” Perhaps during the nesting season, the parent birds are driven to killing hare. I have seen a young passage hawk of mine, flying close to the ground, carry a hare for two or three hundred yards. The hare, a fine hill specimen, weighed 4½ lbs., while the saker weighed only 2 lbs. 4 oz. I have seen an “intermewed” saker stoop at, and strike, a large hare on the head, with such force that the hare never moved again. In Dresser’s Birds of Europe it is stated on the authority of Colonel Przevalsky that in Mongolia, in Winter, the chief food of the saker is the Alpine hare.
CHAPTER XXI
STRANGE ARAB DEVICES FOR CATCHING THE PASSAGE SAKER
The Arabs have two strange devices for catching the bālābān. It chances sometimes that, while out hawking, a wild bālābān will suddenly drop from the sky, and seize a flushed houbara. The Arabs wait till the falcon has broken into the quarry and has begun to eat. Then they go slowly towards the falcon, which, unable to carry off the heavy quarry, perforce abandons it: the falcon will retire to a distance of five- or six-hundred yards and regard her quarry with eyes of regret. Two shikār-chīs go up to the dead houbara and quickly and deftly dig a pit in the sand with their sticks. One of them stealthily gets into this pit and is completely covered with sand, his nose only being above ground. One arm is extended, but concealed by a light sprinkling of sand. The dead houbara is then placed on his open palm and the other men all withdraw to a distance. After a short time, the bālābān, seeing the coast clear, returns without suspicion to its prey. Poor thing, what knows it of what is underground? Slowly it returns to its quarry and re-settles on it. That cuckoldy pimp in his living grave feels the falcon settle; then slowly, very slowly, under cover of the houbara’s feathers his hand searches for his victim’s feet. The hapless falcon, in dread of a robber eagle, eagerly busies itself with pluming and eating: its whole attention is directed to its food. Sooner or later some part of its foot or leg touches the hidden hand, and the freedom of the noble bird is gone. The dead man then comes to life and rises from his sandy grave.[240]
Another Device.—There is another cunning device, which can be practised only during the season of the terrible east wind of Baghdad—“We take refuge in God from it.”[241] This wind blows with incessant severity for two to nine days at a time. Day and night it rages, ceasing not for one minute. None dare venture out in it; everything comes to a standstill. All sorts of wild birds, fearing to be swept away far from their hunting and feeding grounds, take refuge from the force of the wind by settling on the ground. Perhaps some luckless sportsmen, when out hawking, get caught in this wind, and by chance spy a bālābān seated on the sandy gritty soil. One of the party will go directly up-wind of it, and raising all the dust and sand[242] he can with his hands and feet, will scatter it on the wind. Under cover of this cloud of dust, which is carried by the wind on to the falcon, he quickly advances, stirring up the while all the sand he can with his hands and feet. The falcon’s eyes get filled with the sand: in vain it rubs them on its feathers: the sand-storm continues, while the man behind it ceases not advancing with rapidity. The falcon is first forced to close its eyes, but the sand stops up its nostrils, and it soon has no choice but to seek protection for its head under its wing. In this unsuspecting and helpless attitude it is secured by hand.
Author captures a Vulture.—Once I went on a pilgrimage to Haẓrat-i Salmān-i Fārsī,[243] and intending to kill two birds with one stone took with me four or five chark͟hs and bālābāns that were trained to gazelle, and nine or ten mounted falconers. I started early in the morning, and expected to secure during the day five or six gazelles at least. We had gone about two farsak͟h[244] when the east wind began to rise. It gradually increased in force till about two hours before noon, by which time we had reached the very “mine”[245] of gazelle. To the right and left of us there was nothing but gazelle, but, on account of the wind, it was impossible to fly the hawks. Soon the air became darkened, and so strong was the wind that it could have borne aloft a thousand thrones of Solomon.[246] We were nearly lifted off our horses to be hurled far into the desert. There was nothing for it but to “mail”[247] the chark͟hs and bālābāns and carry them under our arms, or in the skirts of our robes. We were now in ground that is called Ḥawr Saʿda[248]: it is low-lying ground, void of dust or sand, for when the Tigris overflows its banks in the Spring, the hollow retains water, and grass and reeds spring up. This hollow was about two farsak͟h broad by six or seven long, and was a favourite feeding-ground of gazelle. The well-known medicinal herb galingale[249] is produced here in abundance; hence the name of Ḥawr Saʿda given to the spot.
Well, as soon as we emerged from this ḥawr, we lost sight of the Arch of Ctsesiphon and the dome of Haẓrat-i Sulaymān. Though we knew the ground thoroughly, having hawked gazelle there hundreds of times, we completely lost our bearings and wandered about aimlessly and perplexedly, we knew not whither. At last we emerged on to the sandy desert, and realized that we had left the shrine of Sulaymān on our left. Our horses were unable to proceed, for their eyes and nostrils were soon choked with sand.
Suddenly a huge carrion vulture[250] dropped to earth and settled before us. I told my attendants to stop still while I circumvented it by the Arab method. I made a circuit and got up-wind of it, and assisted the wind in covering it with sand and dust. At last I reached the vulture and saw that the poor thing had tucked away its head, and was to all appearance asleep. I cast myself on it and secured it, and saw that its eyes and nostrils were so choked with sand that it could scarcely breathe. I made the Ābdār[251] carry it till we reached the shrine. Not having enough food for the hawks, I bought a fat young sucking-lamb,[252] and killed it. The liver and heart were given to the vulture, which, when the wind subsided, was duly released.
I could have captured gazelle by the same method had it not been for their sense of smell.