“How are Hawks trained?” asked Jane. “I wonder they ever return when they once fly off after their prey.”
“The training of Hawks,” said Uncle Thomas, “was practised as an art; and in days when the sport was in high estimation it was one of considerable importance. The young birds were taken out of the nest when ready to fly, or caught in traps, and carefully secured in linen bags, with openings at each end for the head and tail, to preserve their feathers from injury. On their arrival at the falconry a hood was placed over their eyes, so as to blindfold them, and, thus imprisoned, they were left in perfect quiet for a day or two. The training of the noviciate then began. It was placed upon the wrist of the falconer, and carried about the whole day, and occasionally stroked with a feather, so as gradually to accustom it to being handled. Its hood was then taken off, and it was fed; the falconer making a particular call, which was invariably used when the bird was fed, and upon no other occasion. When it was so far trained as to alight on the hand when called, it was unhooded and ‘put to the lure’—an artificial bird, made of feathers, which was thrown up into the air, and at which it was induced to fly by attaching a live Pigeon, or part of a Chicken, which the Hawk was permitted to eat. To prevent its escape during this part of its education it was secured by a string. When perfect in this lesson it was advanced to the dignity of flying at live game, usually by means of a Duck, which was blindfolded to prevent its escape. By the repetition of the call when it had struck its quarry the Hawk was taught to return to its perch upon its master’s wrist, and when this was accomplished its lesson was complete. To prevent its flying off, it was secured by straps of leather or silk, called jesses, which were fastened round its legs, which were also generally ornamented with little bells, so as not to encumber it or interfere with its flight.”
“Is Hawking ever practised in England now?” asked Jane.
“It is occasionally,” said Uncle Thomas; “but so seldom that, as some one remarks, when the old gamekeeper of some ancient family crosses us with a Falcon on his wrist, he looks as if he had stepped out of a picture-frame, and the sight serves to remind us of a glory which has departed. It is, however, sometimes to be seen. Here is an account of a day’s Hawking, in the county of Norfolk.
“In June, 1825,” says the writer, “happening to be in Norfolk, I became an eye-witness to that most ancient and now very rare sport of Falconry; and I now relate what I actually saw, and which was to me most novel and entertaining. The place fixed upon for the sport was in the intermediate country between the Fens and the Heronry, and in the afternoon of the day, with the wind blowing towards the Heronry. There were four couple of casts of the female Peregrine Falcon, carried by a man to the ground upon an oblong kind of frame, padded with leather, on which the Falcons perched, to which they were fastened by a thong of leather. Each bird had a small bell on one leg, and a leather hood, with an oblong piece of scarlet cloth stitched into it, over each eye, surmounted by a plume of various-coloured feathers on the top of the hood. The man walked in the centre of the frame, with a strap from each side over his shoulder; and when he arrived at the spot fixed upon for the sport, he set down the frame upon its legs, and took off all the Falcons, and tethered them to the ground in a convenient shady place. There were four men who had the immediate care of the Falcons (seemingly Dutchmen or Germans), each having a bag, somewhat like a woman’s pocket, tied to his waist, containing a live Pigeon, called a lure, to which was fastened a long string; there were also some gentlemen attached to the sport who likewise carried their bags and lures.
“At length the Falcon soared above the Heron, and struck it on the back.”
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“After waiting awhile, some Herons passed, but at too great a distance; at length one appeared to be coming within reach, and preparations were made to attack him. Each falconer was furnished with a brown leather glove on the right hand, on which the Falcon perched; and there was a small bit of leather attached to the leg of the bird, and which was held by the falconer between the thumb and finger. Each of the men thus equipped, with a Falcon on his wrist, and the bag with the lure tied to the waist, and mounted on horseback, proceeded slowly in a direction towards where the Heron was seen approaching. As soon as the Heron was nearly opposite, and at what I conceived a great height in the air, the falconers slipped the hoods from off the heads of the falcons, and held each bird on the wrist by the bit of leather, till the Falcons caught sight of the Heron, and then a most gallant scene ensued. The instant they were liberated, they made straight for their prey, though at a considerable distance ahead. As they were dashing away towards the Heron a Crow happened to cross, and one of them instantly darted at him, but he struck into a plantation and saved himself: the Falcon dashed in after him, but did not take him. The other Falcon soon overtook the Heron, and after flying round in circles for some time, at length soared above him, and then struck him on the back, and they both came tumbling down together, from an exceeding great height, to the ground. The other Falcon, having lost some time with the Crow, was flying very swiftly to assist his comrade, and had just come up at the time the Falcon and Heron were falling. At this instant, a Rook happened to fly across; the disappointed Falcon struck at him, and they both fell together within twenty yards of the other Falcon and the Heron. When on the ground, each Falcon began to pull to pieces its victim; but, as soon as the falconers rode up, the lures were thrown out, and the Falcons suffered to make a meal (having previously been kept fasting) upon the Pigeon, which was laid on the carcass of the Heron; and, after they were satisfied, were again hooded and put up for that day.
“The next cast consisted of two younger birds; and when let loose at another Heron, they flew up to it very well. But the Heron was an old one, and supposed to have been caught before; for the moment he was aware of the presence of his enemies, he began to soar into the air, and set up a loud croak; and these, not so experienced as the first two Falcons, would not attack him, but soared about and left him. Upon this, one of the falconers set up a peculiar call, to which, no doubt, the birds were trained; when one of them, from a very great elevation in the air, immediately closed his wings, darted down to the man who called him, and was taken in hand. This was a very extraordinary manœuvre, and an instance of tractable sagacity. The other Falcon did not come to the call, but sailed about in the air. At length a Heron crossed, and the Falcon attacked it, but again left it. A third Heron also came in his way; this he also fell to work with, and, after a short struggle, brought him to the ground in the same style as the first. This last Heron had his wing broken, and the falconer killed him; but the first was taken alive, and was afterwards turned out before a single Falcon, which struck him down in a minute. I understood that when a Heron had once been taken by a Falcon he never made any more sport. It was the case with this one; for, the moment he saw his enemy coming towards him, he lost all his powers, and made a ridiculous awkward defence on the ground; where the Falcon would soon have despatched him, if the falconer and his lure had not been near at hand.
“The Heron,” continued Uncle Thomas, “is perhaps the most difficult prey with which the Falcon has to contend; and it was the skill and perseverance with which it opposed the attack of the Falcon, which gave Hawking this bird its peculiar zest. As it flies very high, it is extremely difficult for the Falcon to rise above it, so as to stoop upon it, in which act birds of this sort can most conveniently put forth all their powers. Even when the Falcon manages to attain the ascendancy its victory is by no means certain. In case the Heron is foiled in this, its most obvious means of escape, it turns its neck back upon its shoulders, and projects its bayonet-like bill upwards, behind its wing, and thus, should its pursuer pounce upon its head and neck, to which the attack of the Falcon is usually directed, it runs the greatest danger of being transfixed upon the long and sharp bill of the Heron. This attitude, indeed, serves another purpose; it protects these most vulnerable parts from injury, and should the Falcon, notwithstanding the danger to which it is exposed, strike at the wing of its prey, and thus disable it, on reaching the ground, the latter is still able to offer the fiercest resistance.