Consequently, if the rook persists in trying to keep the air, and Lady Long-wing has the pluck and the condition to keep up the chase, the time comes sooner or later when the shift is not strong enough or not quick enough. Then as you watch the two birds—or the two little specks, as they may by that time have become—the lines along which they are moving will be seen to converge and not separate again. There will be a shout of jubilation from below. “Who-whoop”: it is the death-cry. One of those eight sharp talons which, half hid by feathers, arm the lower side of the hawk’s body has hooked itself into some bone, or at least some fleshy part, of the victim’s body. Then from the under side of the slim falcon, as she spreads her wings and sinks nearer into sight, will be seen hanging a confused mass of black shiny feathers. As the two birds—victor and vanquished—come down to earth, the former will sometimes be seen tightening her grasp or catching hold with the second foot. At anyrate, within less than a second after they have reached the ground, the deadly clutch of the conqueror will be on the head of the conquered. In another second or two the point of her beak will have broken the victim’s neck at the top of the vertebral column. No man can encompass the killing of a rook so speedily and neatly as can a peregrine. Within a marvellously short time after the last stoop was delivered, the head of the captured bird droops inert from the dislocated neck, and life is completely extinct.
Death of a Rook
Such is the finish of a ringing flight flown out on both sides with unflagging courage—the sort of flight which every true sportsman would like to see often in the hawking-field. But much more often the rook, when getting the worst of it in the air, abandons the hope of beating his foe in fair mounting and fair manœuvring. Taking advantage of some moment—perhaps after an ineffectual stoop—when his foe is a trifle wide, and on the side farthest from a covert which he has marked as a possible place of refuge, he turns tail, and makes off—down-wind if possible, or if not, across the wind—to that seductive shelter. A wood or spinny is what he would prefer, but a tree of any kind will do—the taller the better. A farmyard or a flock of sheep, even a hedge or an empty sheep-fold, or a waggon—anything behind or around which he can save himself from the dreaded stoop. In any, even of the least effective refuges, there will be at least a respite. And if that very poor stronghold is found untenable, he can begin a fresh retreat to a more promising place, with recovered wind, and perhaps better luck. Often a rook will make for a rather distant plantation, with a nearer shelter of an inferior kind in view as a pis aller. The hawk, of course, knows as well as he what he is after, and follows at her best pace. Now is the time to ride hard. Even with a moderate wind the birds will be travelling over a mile a minute. Ride as you will, they will be over your head long before you are near the covert, if it is at all distant. Lucky if you are even in time to be near when the first down-wind stoop is delivered. The down-wind stoop of a peregrine is terrible. It is often avoided, no doubt, but the impetus, if she misses, carries her on right ahead of the rook, over the place where he must pass if he goes on. And there she is, blocking the way to the desired haven. She can poise herself steadily for the next shot, choosing her own time for it, and will have every possible advantage over the rook, which has to run the gauntlet of those eight dagger-like talons. The last stoop before reaching covert is very often fatal. The hawk knows that probably it is her last chance of catching hold, whereas in the open she is aware that a very fast stroke, though not quite accurately aimed, will do a great deal towards taking the nerve and strength out of her quarry, and make him easier to hit later on.
If the rook once makes a plantation of any size, he is safe. No human power can drive him out. Peregrines, of course, will not go into cover after their quarry. Now and then a young hawk at hack will try to do something vague in the way of cutting down or dislodging a bird which has put in; but such attempts are dismal failures, and are hardly ever even thought of by “grown-ups.” If the rook has put in to a very low tree or a tall hedge, he may often be dislodged by throwing sticks and stones at him, or sending a boy up. Sometimes snapping a cap on a pistol, or cracking a whip, or making any other sudden and loud noise, will put him on the wing again. But before going far, he is only too likely to put back to the same place, or to a neighbouring tree, if one is near, or to another part of the hedge. Even when the shelter is only a low line of hurdles, it is quite difficult to hustle out a rook so that the peregrine, waiting on above, may have a fair shot at him. A big tree is generally a safe refuge. If you send anyone up, the refugee will only shift his quarters to another branch. And all the time while you are trying to get him out, the hawk will be circling above—if, indeed, she does not get tired of waiting, and start after some other quarry. With a passage hawk which has not long been at work, you cannot risk keeping her long in the air on the chance of your routing out a rook that has put in. She may check at a passing pigeon, or at a quite distant flock of rooks, or any other bird which she was once wont to kill, and then, even if you are well mounted, you will have great difficulty in keeping her in sight. If, therefore, you are hawking with a passager, and cannot get your rook out quickly, take her down with the lure, and have a try later on at another rook in the open.
If the hawk kills, the falconer will get up at once, and “make in” in the manner described in the chapter on Entering. There is not much danger of any attempt to carry when the quarry is as big a bird as a rook. But caution should be observed, nevertheless, as, if you are rough or in a hurry, you may induce in the hawk a disposition to carry, which on some future occasion may cause no end of trouble. Do not even now let your hawk feed upon the rook, unless you are quite sure that she likes such food. Take care that from the first she shall be well pleased with having taken this quarry, which is not the one she is predisposed to fancy. If in doubt about her liking for rook’s flesh, substitute a pigeon. And it is as well to be contented with one kill on the first day. A fresh flight might not end so happily, and would then partly annul the good effect of the one that has succeeded. Besides, you want to reward your hawk for her victory by giving her a good feed at once, which of course you could not do if you intended to fly her again. Be well satisfied, therefore, that the first step has been made towards making a good rook-hawk. After a few more flights, if even a moderate percentage of them end well, your pupil will begin to take a delight in the business. Sometimes she will become so keen at it that you can freely let her feed upon the last rook she kills in the day. Only do not give her too much of this food. It would be a thousand pities if, after having acquired a liking for this flight, she should, for the sake of a small economy to her owner, be allowed to become disgusted with it.
Rooks may be flown as soon as the passage hawks are trained. Old peregrines can of course be flown at any time (except when there are young rooks in the nests). But the winter and early part of the year is the best time, as later on the young crops preclude the possibility of riding over arable land; and it is impossible to ensure that the area of a flight shall be confined to the open downs. It is on some broad expanse of turf, however, that the quarry should be found, if you are to enjoy a good gallop and a proper view of the flight; for if you have to jump fences, you must needs take your eyes off the birds, and it may then be difficult to catch sight of them quickly again. You should not fly at a rook if there is any tolerable covert within half a mile down-wind, or a third of a mile on either side. The distance up-wind to the nearest covert need not be so great. When a rook is just rising off the ground, you can of course give him more law than when he is already on the wing. For, as has been said, height in the air counts very much more than distance along the flat. Even the small elevation from which a hawk starts as you carry her on horseback gives her a certain advantage over the rook which is only just off the ground. Rook flights often end more than a mile in a straight line from the start. But generally this is equivalent to saying that the distance flown has been more than double as much, by reason of the doublings and up-and-down dashes which both birds have made. In following a flight, it is best to keep about a quarter of a mile to leeward, or as near this as you can get, while keeping a good view of the scene. As the rook gets higher, still keep well to leeward, until you are pretty sure what covert the rook will ultimately make for. A little practice will generally enable you to make a pretty good guess, although perhaps for a while the rook may be heading a different way. If you are wrong, and find yourself thrown out, perhaps the best plan is not to ride hard in the vain hope of getting nearer, but take out your field-glasses, and watch the flight from about where you are. Each man out who knows enough about hawking to be able to take up a hawk, should carry a spare lure, so that, in case of a lost hawk, he may try for her in his own direction, while others are engaged on the same task in theirs. Agree beforehand, however, with the owner of the hawk, that if you find her you may take her up.
Falcons are generally flown single at rooks, except at the time of entering them with a make-hawk. In a double flight I think that the rook is as a rule a bit overmatched, that is, if the hawks are in proper fettle. But for entering a backward hawk, or encouraging one which does not take kindly to this flight, it is very useful to use a make-hawk, that is to say, one which is already keen in the cause. Most hawks are very strongly influenced by example; and a young eyess particularly, recognising as she does the superior style of a haggard or passager, will readily imitate her, and join in a chase upon which she sees that the other has embarked. A double flight is very pretty, and very effective. The way in which the two hawks assist one another, waiting each for her turn to stoop, and making her plans so as to profit by the action of her comrade for increasing the force of her own strokes, is interesting even to the most careless observer of animal life. But the double flight is better reserved for such more arduous undertakings as the pursuit of kites, herons, and gulls. A few words will be said in a later chapter about these quarry and the sport they afford. But in all the main particulars it resembles that which has been here described. The rook flight is at once the commonest and the most typical form of sport when the hawks are flown out of the hood; and he who has successfully trained a peregrine to this business should have no great difficulty in making any other of the large long-winged hawks to such other quarry.