Tales About Birds, Illustrative of Their Nature, Habits, and Instincts

by Thomas Bingley

“Colonel Montague, on one occasion, brought the powers of the two animals to a direct test. He took a Falcon, about a year old, which had been taken from its nest before it could fly, and had never had an opportunity of killing any thing but a small bird occasionally, and having kept it without food for twenty-four hours, he introduced into the room where it was kept an old male Heron. As the object was, however, principally to see how the Instinct of the Falcon would develop itself, part of the Heron’s bill had been cruelly cut off. As soon as the Heron was in motion, the Falcon, which was also deprived of the means of flight, took post on a stool which was at one end of the room, and as the Heron, regardless of his enemy, traversed the apartment, the Falcon, motionless, kept her eyes fixed on her destined prey, till after several turns round the room, she judged the Heron was sufficiently near to effect her purpose, when she sprung at its head, intending to seize it with her talons. In this, however, she failed, the stool not having given her sufficient elevation to reach the high erect head of the Heron. This failure would probably have cost the Falcon her life, had the bill of her antagonist been perfect; for she received a blow on her body that must otherwise have inflicted a severe, if not a mortal wound from so pointed an instrument, urged with such power. Baffled in this attempt, and having received a severe blow, it was conjectured that no farther attack would be made till the calls of hunger became more urgent. The Falcon, however, soon regained her station, and it was not long before the Heron, regardless of his foe, again passed very near, when the Falcon, in a second attempt to seize her prey, as before, was equally foiled, and again received a severe check from the bill of the Heron. Finding her efforts had failed from want of the advantages Nature had assigned her, Instinct directed the Falcon to a box that stood on the opposite side of the room, which was somewhat higher. Here she again seemed to meditate another attack, by watching every motion of the Heron, who continued his rounds with a view to make his escape; and it was not long before an opportunity offered for the Falcon to make an assault from her more elevated station. Here she had found a humble substitute for those powers with which Nature so amply furnished her, but of which she had been deprived, and at last succeeded in springing from her perch, and seizing the unfortunate Heron by the head and upper part of the neck with her talons, which instantly brought him to the ground. Now the unequal contest was soon determined, for in vain did the superior weight and strength of the Heron drag and flounder with his enemy across the floor; in vain did he flap his unwieldy pinions to shake off the tyrant of the air, nor could even his gigantic legs force her from the bloody grasp; her work was short and certain; no efforts could compel her now to quit her deadly gripe, the powerful and only dreaded weapon of her antagonist was secured and thus disarmed, he became a sure and easy prey. Scarcely was the gigantic bird prostrate on the ground than death ensued; for in this noble race of Falcons, destined for blood and slaughter, torture makes no part of its nature; but, like what we are told of the generous Lion, exulting in death, but disdaining cruelty, in less than half a minute did the Falcon tear out the gullet and windpipe of the Heron, and regale on the head and neck.”

“It was very cruel to cut off the Heron’s bill, Uncle Thomas,” said Mary.

“I cannot in any view commend the experiment,” said Uncle Thomas; “though it certainly does in a very striking manner illustrate the Instinct of the Falcon in securing its prey. Here was a bird taken and domesticated before it could have seen its parents attack the animals on which they feed, yet we find that it exhibited all those peculiarities which distinguish its assaults in its native state—at once fixing on the most vulnerable part of its victim, and availing itself of the advantages which it could derive from pouncing down upon it from above, and thus giving additional force to its blow.

“Some of the Falcons” continued Uncle Thomas, “are very bold in pursuit of their prey. A Sparrow-Hawk has been known to enter a church while the congregation was retiring and bear off a Swallow which had taken refuge within the building. On another occasion a Kestrel pursued a Sparrow in at the window of a house, and so eager was it to secure its prey that the window was closed, and both were taken before it could escape. A person once saw a Falcon, called in America the Duck-Hawk, pursuing an aquatic bird, called the Razor-Bill, which, instead of assaulting as usual with the death-pounce from the beak, he seized by the head with both claws, and made towards the land; his prisoner croaking, screaming, and struggling lustily; but being a heavy bird he so far overbalanced his aggressor that both descended fast towards the sea, when just as they touched the water, the Falcon let go his hold and ascended; the Razor-Bill as instantaneously diving below.

“Wilson mentions an instance in which the Sparrow-Hawk was not deterred from pouncing on its prey even by the presence of a sportsman, with his gun ready to shoot it. ‘One day,’ says he ‘I observed a bird of this species perched on the highest top of a large poplar, on the skirts of a wood; I was in the act of raising the gun to my eye, when he swept down with the rapidity of an arrow into a thicket of briars about thirty yards off, where I shot him dead, and on coming up found a small Field-Sparrow quivering in his grasp. Both our aims had been taken at the same instant and unfortunately for him both were fatal.’

“A gentleman, who brought up a young Sparrow-Hawk, has published a very interesting account of its habits in a state of domestication. The experiment of domesticating such an animal was rather a hazardous one, as he had at the same time a stock of fancy Pigeons which he greatly prized. It seems, however, that kindness and ease had softened the nature of the Hawk, or the regularity with which he was fed rendered the usual habits of his family unnecessary to his happiness; for, as he increased in age and size, his familiarity increased also, leading him to form an intimate acquaintance with a set of friends who have been seldom seen in such society. Whenever the Pigeons came to feed, which they did oftentimes from the hand of their almoner, the Hawk used also to accompany them. At first the Pigeons were shy, of course; but, by degrees, they got over their fears, and ate as confidently as if the ancient enemies of their race had sent no representative to their banquet. It was curious to observe the playfulness of the Hawk, and his perfect good nature during the entertainment; for he received his morsel of meat without any of that ferocity with which birds of prey usually take their food, and merely uttered a cry of lamentation when the carver disappeared. He would then attend the Pigeons in their flight round and round the house and gardens, and perch with them on the chimney-top, or roof of the mansion; and this voyage he never failed to make early in the morning, when the Pigeons always took their exercise. At night, he retired with them to the dove-cot; and though for some days he was the sole occupant of the place, the Pigeons not having relished this intrusion at first, he was afterwards merely a guest there; for he never disturbed his hospitable friends, even when their young ones, unfledged and helpless as they were, offered a strong temptation to his appetite. He seemed unhappy at any separation from the Pigeons, and invariably returned to the dove-house after a few days purposed confinement in another abode, during which imprisonment he would utter most melancholy cries for deliverance: but these were changed to cries of joy on the arrival of any person with whom he was familiar. All the household were on terms of acquaintance with him; and there never was a bird who seemed to have won such general admiration. He was as playful as a kitten, and literally as loving as a dove.

“But that his nature was not altogether altered, and that, notwithstanding his education, he was still a Hawk of spirit, was proved on an occasion of almost equal interest. A neighbour had sent us a very fine specimen of the smaller Horned Owl, which he had winged when flying in the midst of a covey of Partridges; and after having tended the wounded bird, and endeavoured to make a cure, we thought of soothing the prisoner’s captivity by a larger degree of freedom than he had in the hen-coop, which he inhabited. No sooner, however, had our former acquaintance, the Hawk, got sight of him, than he fell upon the poor Owl most unmercifully; and from that instant, whenever they came in contact, a series of combats commenced, which equalled in skill and courage any of those which have so much distinguished that hero, who to the boldness and clearness of vision of the Hawk, unites the wisdom of the bird of Athens. The defence of the poor little Owl was admirably conducted; he would throw himself upon his back, and await the attack of his enemy with patience and preparation; and, by dint of biting and scratching, would frequently win a positive, as he often did a negative victory. Acquaintanceship did not seem in this case likely to ripen into friendship; and when his wing had gained strength, taking advantage of a favourable opportunity, the Owl decamped, leaving the Hawk in possession of his territory.

“The fate of the successful combatant was, however, soon to be accomplished; for he was shortly after found drowned in a butt of water, from which he had once or twice been extricated before, having summoned a deliverer to his assistance by cries that told he was in distress. There was great lamentation, when he died, throughout the family; and it was observed by more than one person, that that portion of the dove-cot in which he was wont to pass the night was, for some time, unoccupied by the Pigeons, with whom he had lived so peaceably even during the wars of the unfortunate Owl.

“In the East,” continued Uncle Thomas, “Hawking is still practised. In Persia, Sir John Malcolm saw the mode in which it is conducted in hunting Deer and smaller game. The hunters proceed with Hawks and Greyhounds to the places frequented by these animals. When the Antelope is seen, they endeavour to get as near it as possible, but the timid animal, the moment it sees its enemies approach, darts off at a rate swifter than the wind. The horsemen, having slipped the Dogs, follow at full speed. If it is a single Deer they at the same time fly the Hawk; but if a herd, they wait till the Dogs have selected a particular animal. Skimming along the ground, the Hawk soon overtakes the Deer, and as it is trained, pounces upon its head, and either stops it altogether by pecking out its eyes, or retards it so much that it is soon overtaken by the dogs. When he was at Shiraz, Sir John was presented with a very fine Royal Falcon. ‘Before going out,’ says he, ‘I had been amused at seeing Nuttee Beg, our head Falconer, a man of great experience in his department, put upon his bird a pair of leathers, which he fitted to its thighs, with as much care as if he had been the tailor of a fashionable horseman. I enquired the reason for so unusual a proceeding. ‘You will learn that,’ said the consequential master of the Hawks, ‘when you see our sport,’ and I was convinced, at the period he predicted, of the old fellow’s knowledge of his business. The first Hare seized by the Falcon was very strong, and the ground rough. While the bird kept the claws of one foot fastened in the back of its prey, the other was dragged along the ground, till it had an opportunity to lay hold of a tuft of grass, by which it was enabled to stop the course of the Hare, whose efforts to escape would, I do think, have torn the Hawk asunder, if it had not been so provided’.