FOOTNOTES:
[580] Ḥuqār, corrup. of the Arabic ʿuqār, which is possibly also the name of the white egret. In some parts of Persia and in the Kapurthala State in the Panjab, the common heron is called būtīmār. Sakers are not as easily entered to heron as they are to hubara or to hare.
[581] T̤alba, P., “a lure”: in India dalba, corrup. of t̤alba. In Baṣrah and Baghdad the lure is called baftara, but in Kwet and Bahrain Island milwā,iḥ, root unknown.
[582] Vāq, “night-heron”; in some parts of the Panjab wāqwāq; in the Kapurthala State awānk.
[583] A short description by the Author, of the night-heron, being unnecessary, is here omitted.
[584] Sakers as a rule do not fly this quarry unless entered by trains. The flesh of the night-heron is not injurious to sakers, vide page 137, note [591].
[585] Jarda, evidently the purple heron. A few lines describing this species are omitted. The purple heron on the wing looks nearly as large as the common heron. It is, however, a feeble quarry; it is very slow in flight and is unable to shift from a stoop. The flesh is not as coarse or fishy as that of the common heron.
[586] A saker that kills purple heron will kill common heron. In any case a saker that has killed night-heron will take a train of the common heron without the back being garnished with meat.
[587] Vide note [474], page 112.
[588] It is very rarely indeed that a bagged heron will attempt to ring up. If once taken by a hawk, it will generally, when the hawk gets close to it, drop to the ground.
[589] It is always advisable to give “trains” flying, especially to sakers. Sakers do not, however, require flying trains of hubara.
[590] It is not necessary to tie meat on the heron’s back even for a saker, and most certainly not necessary when the hawk has already been flown at purple herons or night-herons. However, sakers are not spoilt by being given many trains as are peregrines: they do not easily become what Indians call bā,ūlī-band or “train-bound.” No matter how or where a train is given, hawks at once recognize that it is not an ordinary wild bird.
[591] A saker (unlike a peregrine) should not get a full feed of heron’s flesh, nor, generally speaking, of any water-bird’s flesh. Some sakers after a full meal of duck or heron will cast their gorge, sicken, and die. For some reason the flesh of the night-heron and of the purple heron is not injurious—at least I have never lost a saker by feeding one on the flesh of these birds. When entering a hawk to a difficult quarry, it is always advisable to kill at least one “train” under her, and to let her plume the feathers a little and eat some of the flesh: pigeons’ flesh may then be substituted. Vide page 188, note [789].
[592] Indian falconers also do this.
[593] “Nares,” a hawk’s nostrils.
[594] An exaggeration: an ell is 40 inches.
[595] Sar zadan, “to stoop”; in some districts lagad zadan, lit. “to kick.” It is very seldom that an experienced hawk will bind to a wild heron at the first stoop. Herons in the air try to use their beaks, and hawks prefer to knock about a heron first, by striking it on the point of the shoulder, and then to seize an opportunity for closing. Once, after binding to a heron in the air, as both birds were falling, the heron seized a hawk of the translator’s by the wing and made it scream.
[596] Bālābān-i ustād, “make-hawk,” i.e., an old experienced hawk to lead and “make” the youngster.
[597] Ishtihā dādan, lit. “to give an appetite to”; by this expression the author always means washed meat.
[598] Bāl-ash rā bar ham mī-zanad, “to beat the wings.”
[599] Bāl-ash rā dar havā nigāh mī-dārad, “to sail.”
[600] The author must mean the third day, as he has said above that the hawk is to be given washed meat on the day following. Vide note [597], page 138.
[601] Gurisna-ash bi-kun, lit. “make her hungry.”
[602] Agar bi-gūsht-i k͟hud-ash ast.
[603] The Seventh Heaven, which is Abraham’s, is the highest: it is under the Throne of God.
[604] Bālābān-i buzyūrī = chūz of India.
[605] T̤ūlakī, “moulted”: t̤ūlak, subs., “moult.”
CHAPTER XXXVIII
TRAINING THE PASSAGE SAKER TO COMMON CRANE
You must know that it is the pride and glory of a falconer that his bālābān should take common crane with dash and resolution, i.e., that she should stoop quickly and bind soon, not letting the crane get away any distance; then your mounted friends can watch the sport closely, and applaud the exploits of both falcon and falconer.
There are, in hawking, only two forms of the sport that can be shared by a crowd; firstly, crane-hawking with the bālābān, and secondly, heron-hawking with the bālābān: hundreds of sportsmen can together witness and enjoy these two flights. In all other flights, whether with long-winged or short-winged hawks,[609] the smaller the party the better.
Though training a bālābān to common heron is more tedious and troublesome than training it to any other quarry,[610] still the trouble is repaid.
Now if you want to indulge in the sport properly, you must have with you five or six active mounted men, two or three trained and keen bālābāns, two or three keen shāhīns and two chark͟hs trained to eagle; for hawk makes hawk: if you want a “make-hawk” it is there, and if you want a live train it is there, or if you want a dead crane it is there. If you have not all this equipment yourself, you must join forces with some sporting friend or friends, otherwise it will not be possible for you to train your hawk to eagles.
Before entering your passage saker to common crane, you must train her and fly her at common heron as already described. On most days, too, when other hawks take crane, you must give her one, in her feet,[611] to make her keen and plucky.
From the beginning of Autumn to the beginning of Spring, the immature passage saker[612] is what the Arabs call “ignorant,”[613] i.e., it is “mad”: it will take a train[614] of anything that is given it, except an eagle;—for in its wild state it has experienced the tyranny of the eagle and has learnt its might.
Well, from the beginning of Autumn till ten days before the Naw-rūz Festival, you must fly your “ignoramus” at common heron. You must then get a live uninjured crane with unshortened wings,[615] and tying meat on its back make it run and flap its wings, and then fly your hawk at it. If she seizes the crane by the head, it is a sign that she has a big heart and is well-plucked, but if she binds to the meat she is only middling. In either case, fly her thus, once in the morning, and once in the evening.
The next day show her the crane and let it fly a little,[616] and then fly your hawk at it: do this twice as on the previous day.
On the third day, if the crane will fly, well and good; but if not, it must be cast off a mound or from some high place—the meat as before being bound on its back—so that the hawk may bind to it in the air, and both birds come to the ground together. If you find that she binds to the crane’s head and pays no attention to the meat, you should, if possible, cut the crane’s throat, and feed up your “ignoramus”—it being of course understood that you have plenty of bagged cranes or the means of obtaining them. If, however, you have but this one “train,” you must stealthily introduce under the crane’s wing a blue-rock or any pigeon coloured like the crane, and feed the hawk on it; or else introduce a chicken under the wing, and putting its head into the hawk’s foot, so cut the throat that the hawk may not hear the chicken’s cries.
On the following day fly the hawk at the crane from a longer distance.
Now when you see that your hawk thoroughly recognizes a crane, and will resolutely fly at any train first shown to it and then released from the hand, you must proceed as follows:—
Get a crane, and as before tie meat on to its back. Cut its sharp front claw—a claw as sharp and deadly as a hawk’s—and insert a string through the nostrils; then bind the two mandibles together, so that the crane may in no way frighten or injure the hawk, neither with its feet nor with its beak. Now seel the eyes and drive it off ten or twenty yards, and fly your hawk at it while it is on the move. Continue this practice, increasing the distance, but lessening the meat till no meat remains, and until your hawk, rising from your fist without hesitation, will make straight for the crane, and after one or two stoops bind to its head.
On the morrow, if you have a fresh crane that will fly, you should unhood the hawk and fly her at that, after it is put on the wing; but, if the crane will not fly, you must get an assistant to carry it to a distance and there release it. He must then either lie flat on the ground, or conceal himself behind some cover, so that he may be near to render speedy assistance to the hawk by seizing the crane’s legs as soon as the hawk binds to its head.
For a few days, too, you should release two cranes and three cranes in company, so that your hawk may single out one.
If, in the district where you are, there are still cranes to be found, i.e., if they have not yet migrated out of the country, go out into the open country and take with you a make-hawk too, and somehow or other with the latter take a crane. Then, as soon as possible, let this freshly caught crane fly, and when it has flown about a hundred yards, unhood and cast off your young hawk. She is sure to take the crane. Cut the crane’s throat, and feed up the hawk, giving her the heart; give her, too, some of the small neck feathers as a “casting.”
Next take your hawk out into the country, and if you happen to find a solitary crane put your trust in God and fly her at it. If, however, you find a flock of ten or twenty, on no account fly her; do not even think of doing so. If you fail to find a solitary crane, you must with your made hawks take a crane, and at once give it to your young hawk as a flying “train”—as you did yesterday.
On the next day, again go out hawking, and if you find a solitary crane, fly her at it. Have by you a “make-hawk,” but if your falconer’s knowledge tells you that your young hawk is master of the situation, do nothing: if, however, you see that the young hawk is not flying with resolution, then without loss of time cast off the “make-hawk” to her assistance. When the crane is taken, feed up the young hawk on it.
If during this Spring she takes one or two cranes, return thanks to God, and fly her at nothing else; set her down in the “mew”[617] to moult[618] and act as will be explained later. Leave her in the “mew” till all your hawks are moulted. When she comes out of the moult, you must treat her again exactly as you did when she was “ignorant.”[619] As soon as you have re-made her to the lure, go and fly her at a common heron. If she takes it, nothing can be better: feed her up. If she has no inclination for it, or if she does not work well, give her a good active heron as a “train,” releasing it at a distance. If to-day she takes the “train,” to-morrow she will take a wild heron. After she has taken one or two common herons, you must turn your attention to cranes.
Take a crane with your old “make-hawk,” show it to her and let it fly, and then feed her up on it. Next, give her two more “trains” of common crane released secretly: these should have meat tied on their backs. As soon as she takes the “train” feed her up.
Now go out and find a half-tame[620] crane; stalk it, and get as close as possible to it; then, placing your reliance on God, fly your young hawk at it. The nearer you get to the crane the better. As soon as your young hawk has got a short distance, cast off an old “make-hawk” to her assistance. The first hawk will make a stoop or two; the “make-hawk” will then arrive, and will keep the crane engaged and overpowered till your mounted assistant, arriving in all haste, secures it and prevents it doing an injury to the hawk. Feed up your young hawk on the crane. She is now well on the road to being quite made.
Should this tame crane take wing when you get close to it, on no account be tempted to fly your hawk at it, for the crane may get away a long distance before your hawk binds to it; and a second crane then joining in the fray to assist its fellow, both birds may so buffet and injure your hawk that she will be useless for further sport, or else so frighten her that she will ignore the lure and be lost. In either case the labour of two years will be lost.
Hawks,[621] whether long-winged or short-winged, are of two kinds; those that the falconer must assist, and those that assist the falconer. A hawk that is mettled, high-spirited, and valiant, if given but one “train,” is made: such a hawk gives assistance to the falconer. Another requires ten “trains” and bagged birds; such a hawk demands assistance from the falconer.
Well, for five or six days you must fly your hawk secretly[622] as described above.
Now listen attentively to what I am going to say. When you are stalking this solitary half-tame crane—or it may be two cranes—should they become alert and seem ready to take wing, hood your hawk and move off to a little distance that they may settle down and again busy themselves with grazing. Should they take wing and settle again, follow them up, or else find others, one, or two, or three—not more. As soon as they settle down to their walking about and picking up grain, unhood your hawk even though the distance be somewhat more, and when your hawk sights the crane, place your trust in God and cast her off. You must judge the distance, and when your hawk is twenty or thirty yards from the crane, you and all your mounted men[623] must suddenly burst into a gallop, i.e., you must so time matters that just as the crane is forced to take wing the hawk reaches it. At the first stoop all three cranes are sure to fall and sit on the ground. You and your falconers will then reach them and they will again rise. Your hawk, however, will be in the air and will command all three. If you see that your hawk is slack, then without hesitation cast off an old “make-hawk” to her assistance.
Whate’er the aim I have in view,
Whate’er the deed I try to do,
Success, I’m certain, will be mine
With Thee to help me, Lord Divine!
Whether the young hawk takes the crane herself, or whether after a few stoops the make-hawk arrives and first binds to the crane, matters not in the least.
On no account must you this season, i.e., up to Spring, fly your hawk at a large flock of crane, for the combination of cranes is like that of no other living thing, and your hawk is only in her second year.
In the opinion of the author, a young falcon in the first year is better than an “intermewed” one of one moult,[624] for the young hawk[625] is “ignorant” and “mad”; it will obey any order that is given her and will fly any “train” that is shown to her. After one moult, however, she has learnt a few falconer’s stratagems and is not easily deluded: if she has not yet learnt all there is to know, she will have done so by the time she is past her second moult.[626]
Now if you fly your valuable passage hawk (of one moult) at a large flock of crane, say a flock consisting of thirty or forty, more or less, she, being plucky and keen on this quarry, will single out and “bind” to one. If you and your mounted companions are up in time, all is well; but if not, the flock will so buffet and bang the hawk that she may be completely cowed. If by nature high-spirited, she will become cunning;[627] if not naturally plucky she will be spoilt beyond re-making. If such an accident does happen, and your hawk suffers, the remedy is to fly her, ten or fifteen times, with a good make-hawk, and then, somehow or other, to manage to take with her alone in the Spring two or three more cranes. However, there is a great risk in flying a passage saker in the Spring[628] whether she be a young hawk or whether an “intermewed”[629] one of one moult; therefore be content with taking only two or three cranes. If one day your passage falcon works hard in the heat[630] and fails to kill, you will hardly succeed in recovering her: she will depart. For this reason you must not be impatient but be satisfied with only two or three cranes. When your hawk has so killed, feed her up well, place your trust in God, and set her down to moult. After the second moult she is your obedient bond-slave, and she has learnt, too, all there is to know of her business.
When you take her out of this second moult, you must, by some means or other, manage to take with her, first a common heron. Next you must, with an old hawk, take a common crane, and on the spot give it as a “train,” flying the hawk at it in such a way that she thinks it is a wild one. Now, in this third season, your hawk is thoroughly and completely trained.
To guard against accidents,[631] you should every year keep a good young passage-saker and train her to the flight of the common heron, so that should any accident happen to one of your crane-hawks, you will have by you a youngster all ready for being entered to crane. If you omit to take this precaution, you will some year lose a whole season’s sport. Your “mews” should contain hawks trained to various quarry, whether your hawks are sakers or shāhīns.
As soon as your passage saker singles out and binds to one crane, out of a flock of say thirty or forty, all its companions will attack her and release their comrade. If the hawk knows her business, she will at once release the crane, and waiting on above the flock will not lose sight of the particular crane to which she bound[632] until you arrive on the spot and again put up the cranes. She will then again stoop at her selected quarry, when again all the cranes will attack her and release the captured bird. You must all gallop as hard as you can; neither pit, nor well, nor stream must hinder you. You must not draw rein till you are right in the midst of the fray, when every sportsman should unhood and cast off his saker or peregrine at the quarry that is nearest to him. I myself have often, out of a flock of five, taken four; often, too, have we knocked over birds with sticks and clubs. As for shooting them, that is quite easy.
There is no bird to equal the common crane in valour and a fine sense of honour; when your bālābān takes one, if there are a hundred others in the air, they will one and all drop from the sky like a stooping shāhīn, attack your hawk, and perhaps kill her: till they release their captured comrade they will not again take the air. This is how it is that five, or six, or seven, cranes out of a “herd” can be secured or killed. Ah! had a sovereign but five thousand cavalry possessed of the valour and resolution of the common crane, he could conquer the world. Well, as I said, you and your men must gallop hard, not funking wells, and streams, and holes.
You must know that there is no sport more difficult than that of the saker and crane, but there is also none better; none, except that of the lion with a buffalo, and the cheetah with a gazelle.[633] I have hunted many a lion and seen trouble therefrom, for the sport is inauspicious; for the lion is the King of Beasts, and His Highness the Commander of the Faithful[634] (on whom be peace) is styled the Lion of God. Hence the sport of the lion is baleful, and he that follows it will certainly see no good; still it’s a fine sport; I have tried it—but my advice to you is on no account to do so, else you will regret it, for no benefit accrues therefrom.