Hunting with falcons is in Morocco a Royal sport, and no subject of the Sultan, unless he be a member of the Royal family, can hunt with them, without being especially granted the privilege. A few years before this, the Sultan sent Sir John a gift of two falcons—and with them a falconer, capable of catching and training others, to instruct him in the sport. The novelty proved interesting for a time; but in comparison with pig-sticking, coursing and shooting, it was found wanting, and the falcons soon ceased to be more than mere pets at the Legation.
Sir John, who was a great admirer of these birds, used to relate the following legend and its curious verification in his own personal experience.
There is a legend that no one of the name of Hay should kill or injure a falcon. The tradition is founded on the following tale.
At the battle of Loncarty in 980 the Danish army was certainly routed by the Scots. Yet, at the commencement of this battle, the Danes had been victorious and drove the Scots before them, pell mell, towards a narrow pass. Here three stalwart Highlanders, a father and his two sons, had taken their stand and rallied their fugitive countrymen. Then, placing themselves at their head, they led them in an onslaught on the Danes, whom they routed.
Afterwards, the King of the Scots, Kenneth III, sent for the three men, and, learning from them that they—who were farmers—had been occupied in ploughing when they saw the Scots in retreat, and then joined in the fray, he exclaimed, ‘Henceforward you shall be called Garadh!’ which in Gaelic signifies bulwark or fence. Later this name was transformed to De la Haye by members of the family who emigrated to Normandy and, establishing themselves there, joined the Conqueror when he came to England. Subsequently it was modified into Hay.
King Kenneth ennobled Garadh, and offered him a grant of land of his own selection. Garadh prayed the King to grant him whatever land his falcon might traverse, till it alighted, if thrown off at Loncarty. His prayer was granted. The falcon flew from Loncarty and alighted on the Carse of Gowry—as indeed might have been expected, since Garadh was wont to hunt with falcons and frequently fed his birds on that height. This large property was long held by the Hay family, but the greater part passed into other hands during the last century.
My father, who told me this legend, added a caution against ever injuring the bird which had brought good fortune to the family, and I bore it in mind, and never fired a shot at any falcon, until one day I received a letter from a naturalist in England, requesting me to find some person who would aid him in making a collection of specimens of birds of prey, as he knew that these birds migrated northwards in the month of March—when the wind blows from the east—passing from Morocco, across the Straits, to the Spanish coast, and selecting generally for the point of their departure the Marshan—a plateau within a quarter of a mile of Tangier. From here I have seen hundreds of birds of prey, eagles, falcons, hawks, kestrels, kites and buzzards cross the Straits during the month of March, flying against the east wind.
Being desirous of meeting the wishes of my friend the naturalist, I selected a spot on the Marshan, where, in a dilapidated battery, were three or four dismounted guns, presented by King George IV to a former Sultan. Here, ensconced between two of the guns, I waited the passage of the birds and shot several kites, buzzards, kestrels and other hawks; but at first, true to my rule, spared the falcons.
It was in the days of muzzle-loaders with copper caps, and I was not using a gun of English make.
At last, seeing a fine falcon flying towards me, I said to myself, ‘What folly to believe in such silly old-womanish nonsense as that a Hay must not injure a falcon—I shall test the truth of the legend by firing at one.’