The biaz—such is the name of the falconer, the individual whose special duty it is to tend and feed the falcon—sometimes entertains a blind and fatal attachment for his pupil. He will pet and pamper her to excess; and although it is proverbially said that "vanity is her only counsellor and sole motive of her actions," yet, if she be not hungry, instead of hunting, she resumes her liberty. A bird, however, must be exceedingly well trained and even renowned, to be kept for more than one year. As a rule, unless she has displayed an exceptional prowess, she is turned loose at the end of the season, as another is sure to be obtained before the time comes round again. Birds that have been kept for three years are quoted as something quite out of the common run.
When the djouad, or nobles, go out hawking, it is in parties of five-and-twenty to thirty, without reckoning their attendants, and wagers are often laid. For a trained falcon, a camel is given, or a hundred boudjous, and at times even a horse. The falcon is regarded as a member of the family. She lives in the tent, and is the object of the most constant attention. Some chiefs are never to be seen without their falcon, which they carry about with them everywhere. It is a sign of distinction and of gentle birth to have marks of a falcon's muting on one's burnous. In the Sahara, little or great, rich or poor, all alike love and caress the "gentle" bird.
"And how should it be otherwise?" said to me one day a noble Arab; "we love pomp, splendour, and magnificence, and one must be more or less than an Arab not to feel joy and excitement at the sight of our warriors returning from hawking. The chief rides on in front, followed by many horsemen, and carrying two falcons, one on his shoulder, the other on his fist, guarded by a leather gauntlet. The hoods of these birds are enriched with silk, morocco leather, gold, and small ostrich plumes, while their jesses are embroidered and ornamented with silver bells. The steeds neigh, the camels are loaded with game, and their drivers murmur, in a melancholy tone, one of those chaunts of love, or war, which never fail to find the way to our hearts. Yes; I swear by the head of the Prophet, next to a goum taking the field, there is nothing so striking as the departure or return of a hawking party. Thus, however weary, exhausted, and out of breath one may be, sleep is less refreshing than the hope and expectation of recommencing on the morrow."
THE CHACE
BY ABD-EL-KADER.
It is related that an Arab Sheikh was seated in the centre of a numerous group, when a man who had lost his ass presented himself before him, and asked if any one had seen the animal that had gone astray. The Sheikh immediately turned to those around him, and addressed them in these words:—"Is there any one here to whom the pleasures of the chace are unknown? Who has never pursued the game at the risk of life and limb, if he fell from his horse? Who, without fear of tearing his clothes or his skin, has not thrown himself into the midst of brushwood bristling with thorns, in order to overtake the wolf? Is there any one here who has never experienced the happiness of again meeting, the despair of leaving a woman who was dearly loved?"
One of his hearers answered: "For my part, I have never done, or experienced any of those things you mention."
Looking to the owner of the ass, the sheikh thus spoke: "Behold the beast you were looking for! Lead him away."
The Arabs, indeed, have a saying that "he who has never hunted, nor loved, nor felt emotion at the sound of music, nor prized the perfume of flowers, is not a man, but an ass." With us, war is especially a contest of agility and craft. Consequently the chace is the highest of all pastimes, as the pursuit of savage animals teaches how to pursue men. A poet has written the following eulogy of that art: