We have traced the history of the wild-caught hawk from the moment of her misadventure in the bow-net to that in which having been introduced under good auspices to the society of her new friends she has learnt at least to tolerate their presence, if not to rejoice in it. She can be taken amongst men, women, and children, dogs, horses, and carriages, without feeling uneasy. She has, in fact, now been manned. When we took leave of our eyesses they had not yet arrived at this stage. They were only just taken up from hack. But the manning of the eyess is accomplished in no different way from that of the passager, except that the more vigorous parts of the discipline may be omitted or modified. Waking is not necessary for eyess merlins, hobbies, or kestrels. It may often be dispensed with altogether with eyess peregrines, even after a prolonged hack. Carrying and handling are with them, as with their wilder brethren, the simple but laborious methods whereby they are tamed. But manning is only the first step in the reclamation of a hawk. She must be made also to come to the fist, at least to a certain extent. If, indeed, she is a short-winged hawk, this lesson of coming to the fist may be considered the principal part of her training. But all hawks should be taught and accustomed to jump a short distance on to the fist, whenever it is held out invitingly towards them. Nor is there any great difficulty about this, if a right beginning is made. As the falconer stands with his hawk bareheaded on the glove, he should get her first to reach forward with her head when he offers a morsel of food on the end of his short stick. Then by degrees he may induce her to step an inch or two sideways towards his wrist for the same purpose. Next, to walk a little way along the screen-perch. And, when she will do this, he may set her down on the perch, and, touching it with the open ? 88 ? fingers of the gloved left hand, invite her to step on to them and to the knuckles. The next short step is to get her to jump from the perch to the hand. When once she will do this, even if the jump is one of an inch only, the distance can soon be made much greater. But in order to succeed with this lesson she must not be tantalised. It is no good to stand for five minutes with the left hand outstretched and a piece of meat on or near it within six inches of your hawk, when she is in no humour to make the leap which seems to her so perilous. When she will not come, humour her, and put the meat nearer, so that she can get it without jumping. Sooner or later she will find that the meat so placed before her is not a trap or a sham, but really meant for her delectation, and that she can get it a little quicker if she chooses to go for it. There is no use in telling her the story of Mahomet and the mountain, but you can illustrate the theory by a sort of practical dumb-show. If a more advanced pupil is placed on the perch next to the slow learner, the latter will see how much quicker her sister gets the proffered delicacies by jumping for them. As soon as she will come a little way from the screen-perch, try her from a block, and then from a gate-post out of doors. Keep her at this exercise for some days, but do not make a toil of it to her; merely let her know that if she comes for it, she will get the tit-bit at once, whereas, if she does not, she will get it all the later.

Next comes the lure. Passage hawks are notoriously and naturally bad at the lure. Nothing in their previous experience at all leads up to it; and you have to teach them an entirely new lesson. Consequently, you must take pains about it, and be prepared for disappointments and delays. The lure is as important to the falconer as a hook to a fisherman, or a bridle to a rider. To take a long-winged hawk out to the field without a lure would be almost as silly as to go out shooting without any cartridges. When first introduced to the pupil the lure must be well garnished with attractive and palatable viands. It is by no means enough to throw down a freshly-killed pigeon in front of the hungry hawk. She is quite likely, if a passager, to stare at it absently, and apparently without any very defined belief that it is at all good to eat. After a minute or so she is not unlikely to look the other way, and pay no more attention to your well-intended bait. But you must not then be surprised, or begin exclaiming at her “stupidity.” If the passager will not come to the dead pigeon, take a lure and cover it with chopped meat. Give her pieces off this, and presently let her pick them off it. Then let her walk towards the lure to get the ? 89 ? pieces, as she has already learnt to go to the fist. When once she has walked even three inches to it she can soon be made to fly to it right across the lawn.

Prolong these lessons, therefore, till your hawk is well “made to the lure.” Each day at feeding-time make her come a longer and longer distance to it for her dinner. After a while she will be flown to it in a creance, that is, a line attached to the end of the leash, or, better still, to the swivel, from which the leash has been detached. The best way to give the lesson is to get an under-falconer or assistant to hold the hawk on his fist in an open piece of ground, and then, going a little way off, to show her the lure, on which she knows by experience that her food is fastened. In the case of eyesses which have been hacked to the lure they are of course well habituated to the business in hand. But all hawks, if properly treated, will after a time learn to look with some eagerness, at the dinner hour, for the appearance of the lure. Peregrines and all the bigger hawks will be hooded up before going out; and when the hood is taken off they will glance around in search of the trainer. As soon as they discern him swinging his lure, they should jump off and fly towards it, and, when it is thrown on the ground, alight on it. Merlins and sparrow-hawks may generally be set down on a post, and lured from it by the same person who took them out, without the need of an assistant. Or, when they know the lure sufficiently, it may be attached to the far end of the creance, and, after being swung once or twice, thrown to a short distance, and the little hawk thrown off at the same time, when she is pretty sure to go straight to it. These exercises at the lure should be continued till there is no longer any reasonable doubt that the pupil will come as soon as she has the chance; and, in order to make sure, the length of the creance may be increased from a few feet to at least a hundred yards. It will be a proud moment when first you trust your passage hawk entirely free, and, detaching the swivel from her jesses, abandon for the moment all actual control over her. On this occasion you will probably take extra precautions, making sure that no intruder will interrupt the operations, and that your hawk is undeniably sharp-set. But in order to make certain of this, do not dream of starving her; merely put off the feeding-time for an hour or so. Hawks in captivity should commonly be fed, as will be seen later on, at about 11 a.m. When you first fly your passage hawk free, wait until past noon. The small extra delay will have put an edge on her appetite. If all goes well she will not notice or suspect that anything unusual is occurring. Very ? 90 ? likely, if a light line has been used, she may have supposed for days past that she was flying free. Possibly she has never once suspected the existence of the creance.

It is well to make all hawks to the lure, even if afterwards you should have no use for it. A lost goshawk will very often come to the lure when she will not come to the fist. As a rule, it will be seen that short-winged hawks in the field should not be called to the lure; they are “hawks of the fist,” and should be taught to come to it whenever they have the chance, in default of wild quarry. It requires some faith to believe when the wild-caught sparrow-hawk is first taken in hand that she will ever do this. Nothing will seem much more unlikely than that this fierce, restless creature, a feathered termagant, would ever so lay aside her innate wildness as to come contentedly out of the free air, and, disdaining all other resting-places, take perch by preference on the hand of her once detested captor. Yet so it is. Goshawks and sparrow-hawks can all be brought to come habitually to the fist, and remain there willingly at all times except when there is quarry to be pursued. In their case the calling-off to the hand in the open field is only a prolongation and extension of the early lessons in which they were taught to jump to it from the perch, as already described. After the creance is no longer necessary each kind of hawk should be called off for two or three days at least, the one to the lure and the other to the fist, one man holding the hawk, while the other swings the lure or holds out the fist. And here ends the early drudgery of reclaiming the wild-caught hawk.

The education of the eyess, whether flown at hack or not, must, of course, be brought down to the same stage. If they have had no hack at all they will have been manned very early in life and habituated to come to the fist. If they have been well hacked, they will have become in many respects very like wild hawks—possibly “more so.” Anyhow, they will be full summed and full grown in all respects before they come to be put in actual training for the field. We took leave of our eyesses in the third chapter, soon after they had been taken up; and we must now assume that by a modified application of the régime prescribed for the haggard they have been manned and taught to come to the hand or the lure, or both. The time occupied in this process will of course have varied according to the disposition of the individuals. A well-natured eyess merlin hacked under the lure-and-fist system will be manned in two or three days. A goshawk, or a peregrine of an independent turn of mind, hacked at the board, may resist for the best part ? 91 ? of a fortnight the best-intentioned efforts to subdue her wild instincts. It will be well in all cases, and will save an immensity of time and trouble, to reduce the eyess to some extent as soon as she is taken up. For my own part I incline to doing, even at this early stage, a bit of mild physicking. Half a Cockle’s pill for a peregrine or one-eighth for a merlin will do no manner of harm. At all events the allowance of food must be cut down. Hack hawks, when taken up, should be as round as balls and as bumptious as undergraduates. They know not what it is to be really sharp-set; and unless dosed they make quite a favour of eating at all during the first two or three days of real captivity. Continue feeding them at the rate they have been accustomed to, and you will lose patience before you can bring them under any sort of control. In fact, you will not do so at all. Yet I do not mean that they should be made thin. There is, it is true, no longer any fear of hunger-traces, but a thin hawk is a weak hawk, and sometimes even a spoilt hawk. Her small feathers lose their gloss; her flight feathers grow weak and brittle, and are ready to break on slight provocation; her nares lose colour, and begin to harbour mites. In short, a thin hawk is an abomination and a disgrace. She must therefore not be either overfed or underfed, but just made hungry enough before each meal-time to be really keen after her food. And as she has accumulated during her probationary time of adolescence more or less internal fat, the quickest and easiest way to get rid of it is to give her a mild dose or two of purgative medicine, and some rangle, as recommended in the chapter on ailments. Hack hawks and all other eyesses must be taught to jump and fly to the fist. If long-winged, they must be made to the lure. And in all cases they should be thoroughly broken to the hood.

Thus we have arrived at the same stage with our eyesses and with our wild-caught hawks; and the subsequent stages are very nearly the same with each. Carrying (on the fist—I do not mean the vice of that ilk) is still a sine qua non. No hawk can have too much of it. I have read in some hawking books a reference to hawks being “too tame.” The phrase, as applied to a trained hawk, is not very well chosen, and might mislead a beginner. Some of the most deadly hawks ever flown have been as “tame as parrots.” When a very tame hawk flies badly it is not, as a rule, because she is too tame, but because she is too fat, or, more likely still, because she is not properly sharp-set at the moment of flying. Some remarks on the conditioning of hawks will be found later on. In the meantime let ? 92 ? not the beginner be afraid of getting his hawk too fond of him. She should “rejoyce in him,” as the old falconers expressed it, and at sight of him be all excitement to come to him, not only for food, but for the chance of a flight, which she will soon begin to think that he alone can procure for her. Even wild hawks will sometimes wait on upon their known enemy, man, on the chance of his putting up game, and so “serving them,” as the saying is. How much more should a trained hawk do, who is beginning to know that the falconer is a good friend?

Our charges must now be classified in a different way. The distinction is not now so much between eyess and passager, as between long-winged and short-winged—between those which are to be flown at one or other sort of quarry. Thus, short-winged hawks of both kinds, eagles, merlins, and all the long-winged hawks which are to be flown at rook, heron, kite, or gull, are flown from the fist, whereas hobbies and all the long-winged hawks which are destined to fly either at game or duck are allowed to mount to their pitch before the quarry is sprung, and from thence descend upon it. We may first speak of the first-mentioned category, premising that as far as safety is concerned the flight from the fist is preferable.

We assume that the hawk will come readily to the lure or the fist as soon as she has a chance. Now contrive, if you can, that your assistant, having her hooded on his fist, shall stand on an open ground at a distance from you of some two hundred yards, and that somewhere between you there is a live bird or beast of a suitable kind on the ground, or in a very small bush. In the case of a merlin a wild lark may very possibly be marked down in such a position. So may a blackbird for a sparrow-hawk, or a rabbit for a goshawk, or even a young partridge for a peregrine, ger, or lanner. If you cannot manage to make this arrangement with a wild creature, you must employ a bagged one for the nonce as a substitute—a poor one, no doubt; but it may serve the turn, if used in the way to be presently described. Now let the assistant unhood the hawk; and make sure that somehow or other you can put up that marked quarry when you like. As soon as the hawk has had time to look round and has looked towards you, let the man walk in the same direction, and walk in yourself to put up the quarry. When you are close upon it and are sure that it is about to rise, you may show the lure for a moment, quickly hiding it again. And, as the hawk starts towards you, put up the quarry with a shout. If you are quick enough, it will rise just as the hawk is approaching the spot where it was, and the ? 93 ? temptation to her to pursue it will be strong. If the hawk yields to the impulse, you are in luck. She is already “entered.” If she takes it you are still more fortunate, for the hawk is “made” at the first trial. But very possibly she may refuse. No matter, take her down to the lure, and try her again another time—perhaps an hour later. Possibly you may possess or borrow a make-hawk which is already au fait at the quarry—a sister or brother of the tardy learner, which has already taken more kindly to the business—maybe a last year’s hawk, which is now coming into action again. If such a pupil-teacher is thrown off as the quarry starts, the force of example will pretty surely lead to imitation. Rook-hawks are very often entered in this way. But the plan is advised for the nobler races only, for short-winged hawks must not be slipped together, for fear of “crabbing” or fighting.

A propos of bagged quarry, which are an abomination to all right-minded falconers, it should be said that whenever they are turned out great care should be taken to deceive the hawk into the idea that they are not bagged. With this intent dig a small hole in the ground, just large enough to accommodate the bagged quarry comfortably. Over the top of the hole and the quarry inside it place a flat board of the same colour as the surrounding surface, green, brown, or as it may be. Let the board be sufficiently heavy to prevent the captive from escaping, as long as it remains over the hole. Then attach a string of the required length, and coloured like the board, to one of its corners. When you want the quarry to bolt, pull the string and thus uncover the hole. When the liberated prisoner comes forth, the hawk will be too intent upon looking after it to inquire why or wherefore it appeared on the scene. If, on the contrary, you throw it up out of the hand, or let it out of a bag, the case will be different. Most likely the hawk will see that it is no chance quarry, but is expressly thrown out as a sort of animated lure, and pursue it as such. When afterwards you try her at a really wild quarry, she may refuse, just as if you had given no bagged quarry at all. Hawks, like other creatures, are averse to hard work when they think it unnecessary; and when they are accustomed to easy flights—such as are always afforded by birds thrown up from the hand—they are apt to shirk the more difficult job of catching a wild bird.

Many hawks are, of course, entered without any such man?uvring as above described. An eyess, for instance, which has begun to chase birds freely at hack may often, when properly reclaimed, be taken straight out into the field, and thrown off at ? 94 ? the sort of quarry which it is ultimately intended to pursue. Perhaps two out of every three eyess merlins may, in skilful hands, be thus dealt with. But they will perhaps not begin at once. I remember well the first day when Princess was taken out, as the first of a nest of four merlins intended to be entered. It was on the open down, where the larks were very strong. She refused eight in succession, merely making a pretence of following, and sometimes not even that. But at the ninth, which got up very near her, she flew with the utmost pluck and skill, and, after at least half a dozen good stoops, put it into a potato patch, where it could not immediately be found. She then refused three more, and ultimately, thinking perhaps that it was long past dinner-time, caught the thirteenth lark in good style. Another year Colonel Sanford and I took out two jack-merlins—the advance-guard of the hack hawks—very early in the season, to be entered at the same time. We threw them off at the same lark. The hawk which was nearest to it refused: the other went on and killed the quarry. Sparrow-hawks will generally fly, if in yarak, without being entered artificially. With peregrines there is generally more difficulty. As for those of them which are intended for game or duck, they belong to the other category, and will be referred to later as hawks of the mountee. But passage peregrines, coming to the falconer as they do late in the autumn, will first be flown at rooks or gulls from the fist. With each of these quarry there will probably be trouble. For the wild hawk does not, as a rule, fly at rooks, unless when hard driven for food, nor is she much addicted to gulls, except at breeding-times, when she has many mouths to feed. If, when the time comes for her to be entered, she is started straight away at a rook or gull, without a make-hawk as companion, she is almost sure to refuse, or take no notice at all of it. Possibly, if she is first flown at a white pigeon, in the same place and way as afterwards a gull is sure to be found, and flies well at the pigeon, she will afterwards go for the gull. But for entering rook-hawks, where no make-hawk can be used, a bagged quarry or two is generally found necessary.

When once a hawk has taken one of the quarry at which she is intended to be flown, she may be allowed to eat it if it is to her taste. But if its flesh is not of an appetising or palatable kind—as, for instance, rook or gull—a ruse should be adopted to induce her to believe that the prize is more valuable than it really is. A freshly-killed pigeon, or part of one, should be smuggled under the hawk’s foot as she is pluming the dead rook or gull. There will be no difficulty in practising this innocent ? 95 ? deception. Hawks, while pluming their quarry, keep a firm hold of it with the inner talon of one foot, and often of both. But it is easy to contrive that the outer talons of one foot shall get hold of the pigeon, and afterwards to shift the inner talon on to it. Then, as she goes on feeding, the other foot can be shifted, and the real quarry stealthily withdrawn from underneath. As there is nothing that peregrines like better than pigeon, your newly-entered hawk will, after a meal presented to her in this fraudulent fashion, take a new view of the merits of a hitherto despised quarry.

It remains now to warn the beginner in the process of entering to beware of the hawk’s carrying, that is, lifting or bolting with the quarry. Unless you have very good reasons to suppose that she will not do this, you should specially guard against it from the first. When bagged quarry is used, attach a short light string to it, such as will not materially impede its flight. After the hawk has made a capture allow her to come with it quietly to the ground. This she will do if accustomed always to feed on the lure upon the ground. You will also, of course, be in a place where there is no temptation, and, if possible, no reasonable chance, of her taking it up into a tree. Then approach her very gently and cautiously until you are near enough to take hold of the end of the string. Having secured this, you can prevent all attempts at carrying. Do not, however, on that account hurry up. There is much art in “making in,” as it is called. You will have plenty of time; for the mere plucking or depluming of the quarry (always nearly completely finished before the meal is begun) will last several minutes at least. Still holding the string, go up very slowly, advancing a few inches when my lady is intent on her booty, and stopping when she looks up. Above all things avoid staring at her, which hawks greatly dislike. Look any other way than towards her, and walk rather obliquely towards her than in a direct line. When you are nearly within arm’s reach bend down. You may kneel or even crawl along like a snake. When you begin to reach out your hand towards her let it be garnished with a well-looking piece of food. Get it gradually within reach of her; then close to her feet; then near enough to touch the real dead quarry. When you have hold of this you have gained another point. But be patient and wary still. If you alarm the hawk, even a little, it will throw you back terribly in your progress towards making her. It may lead to the abominable vice of habitual carrying, than which nothing is more annoying and more dangerous. If by mishap the hawk should bolt, hold on gently ? 96 ? but firmly to the string, and give her still more time before again approaching her. The art of “making in” should be studied and practised from the first. You will afterwards be amply repaid for all your trouble. See the important remarks made on this subject in Chapter IX.

When you have secured the quarry, keep down for at least two or three minutes more, and let the hawk begin feeding at her ease on it, or on the pigeon which you may have substituted. Help her to find the best pieces. You may talk to her in encouraging words, if such is your habit, while she is eating. Then slowly get up, lifting the food, and the hawk upon it, without any haste or jerking. Let her have nearly a full crop—the reward of good behaviour—and subject her to no chance of annoyance or interference all the rest of the day.

These instructions may seem lengthy and needlessly minute. If they are, it is a fault on the right side. You are at a critical stage now in your pupil’s education. You are “making” her to the business which is henceforth to be the business of her life; and a little extra precaution is justifiable in order to ensure that the lesson you are teaching shall be well learnt. As the hawk finds by experience that you approach her with no predatory intentions, but rather to help her and add to her enjoyment of her meal, she will gain confidence, and be less and less inclined to misbehave herself by bolting. And as her mistrust diminishes so will your trouble be lessened, until at last you will be able to make in without any of these precautions and delays. Whereas, if you are negligent or over-confident at first, you may end by not being able to make in to her at all, and may have the mortification of having been for some weeks the owner of a fine hawk which could fly admirably, but which, after one of her first few flights at wild quarry, literally “vanished into thin air.”

The training required for hawks which are to “wait on” is different. It has already been said that merlins and the short-winged hawks cannot be taught this accomplishment. A merlin which will wait on even for half a minute is rather a phenomenon. I have had such an one, it is true, but only one. The thing is not impossible in all cases, but so rarely practicable that it is needless to speak of it. Nor is it advisable to teach the art of waiting on to any hawk which is intended to be flown at rooks, gulls, heron, or the like. But all long-winged hawks intended for game should wait on well. The whole race of peregrines and their cousins, gers, hobbies, sakers, lanners, and the humble kestrel, can all be made to wait on beautifully. Soaring (to which waiting on is so nearly similar) is the natural exercise of ? 97 ? all these hawks. In the wild state they spend hours almost daily at it. But if they are to wait on in the rather artificial style required by the falconer, nature must be aided a little. When they are keen at coming to the lure, you should call them off, and, as they approach, jerk the lure away off the ground in front of them. When they have missed it, their impetus will carry them on beyond the place where it was, and they will rise in the air, partly turning round to see what has become of it. Then after a very short delay you may throw the lure down again, and let them have it. At the second lesson it may be hid for a longer time, and the hawk allowed to make one or two circles in the air before it is produced. At each fresh lesson make the interval of waiting longer, hiding the lure as long as the hawk is circling round within a short distance of you, but producing it when she strays away, or gives signs of being tired out. By this means she will soon learn that patience is not only a virtue, but a profitable, and even a pleasant one. For if the wild hawk soars from choice for the mere pleasure of stretching her wings, it must be natural for a trained hawk, which has so much fewer opportunities of doing this, to take a delight in it. Eyess peregrines are very unlike one another in their aptness for waiting on. Some are very slow to learn it, and can hardly, by the greatest efforts, be got to go up any height, or even to keep on the wing at all. Some few, on the other hand, take to it quite readily, and, after a few days, of their own accord mount to a great height. Of course the higher a hawk can be induced to go, the better game-hawk she will turn out.

As for passage hawks, you must remember, when teaching them to wait on, that there is much more danger than there is with eyesses. The longer they are kept on the wing, and the higher they go, the more chance there is of their espying some bird passing—perhaps some old familiar quarry, of which they have struck down scores for themselves—and making off after it. The very fact of being in the air, and feeling the free breeze as it lifts their wings, must remind them forcibly of old days of liberty, and slacken the ties which bind them to their new master. Be extra careful, therefore, in the case of all passage hawks, and most of all with the haggard, to watch for any signs of returning native wildness. Fly her in a country where chance quarry are not likely to appear. If she “rakes away,” or wanders far from you in making her airy circles, call her back before it is too late. Fly her always when she is quite sharp-set, even if you have to give her little or no exercise on some of the intermediate days between one lesson and the next. ? 98 ? You may diet her now upon “washed meat.” This is meat washed in cold water and squeezed dry, so that a part of the nutriment originally contained in it is lost. It is, of course, less palatable and less sustaining. But it should be used in moderation. The old falconers seem to have given it much more often than we do now. But for some reason or other the nineteenth century hawk, if at all habitually dieted on this distasteful food, seems to lose pluck and power as well as weight.

There is another mode of flying hawks to the lure, which is a sort of combination of the first-mentioned process of “calling off” and the last-mentioned “waiting on.” This is the practice of “stooping to the lure,” which is certainly an excellent means of exercising a hawk, although some very good falconers object to it on other grounds. For merlins and kestrels, however, it may be recommended without any reservation. To teach it, begin, as before, by calling your hawk off to the dead lure, and jerking it away from the ground in front of her. But instead of afterwards encouraging her to mount and wait on, produce the lure, and repeat the same trick by jerking it away. In order to make the most of this exercise you should rig up a soft lure, which can be struck in the air. Take a stout bag, padded on the inside, and into it put a smaller bag, with as much sand or shot in it as will three-quarters fill it. Sew up the mouth, and attach to it a strong leash or cord. The whole apparatus must weigh about two-thirds as much as the hawk which is to be flown to it. At the juncture of the leash and the bag attach on each side the wing of a bird, choosing by preference for each hawk a bird of the kind which is to be her particular quarry—a rook for a rook-hawk, a lark for a hobby, and so on. These appendages will have to be often renewed; and it is well to keep a stock of old ones, pickled or peppered to keep out the moths. There will be strings, of course, as in an ordinary lure, for attaching the food; and particular care is required in garnishing this kind of lure, as with the hard usage to which it is subjected, any food which is at all insecurely fastened on may come off; and if the hawk bolts with it a terrible disaster may be the result.

At this padded lure the hawk may be allowed to strike freely in the air as it is swung. Gers and merlins are all very clever at this work, and often seem to enjoy vastly this opportunity of exercising their muscles and their intelligence. Some of them are amazingly clever in getting hold of the lure. Not only do they foresee exactly where the swing you are giving to the lure will bring it the moment when they pass; but, if you are in the ? 99 ? habit of interrupting that swing by giving it a particular jerk or twist in another direction, they will discount, as it were, this trick, and anticipate your little plan. Considerable adroitness is required on the part of the falconer also. By the employment of some cunning, he can encourage his hawk to great exertions, and can very greatly increase both her speed and her footing powers. If the stoop is very narrowly eluded by this dead lure, working under your guidance, the hawk is not unlikely to think that it was her own slowness of flight which made her too late. If you can encourage this idea, she will strive to improve her pace, and fly to the lure almost as hard as she would at a wild quarry. I have repeatedly seen merlins with their mouths open after five minutes of this work. The best plan is to let the hawk touch the lure whenever she specially distinguishes herself, whether by a very hard down stoop, or a high throw-up, or as it may be. Let the lure be as small as it can be, consistently with sufficient weight and softness, and whenever the hawk touches it, whether by your leave or without it, immediately let it fall on the ground; and let the hawk come down to it, if she did not bind when she touched. This is a very important particular in the case of eyesses. It teaches them that a swift stoop which even grazes the quarry is better than all the slow ones which miss it. As for passage hawks, they need not to be taught this. But for them, in consideration of the hardness of their stoop, I have sometimes found it well to use a modification of the soft lure. I have diminished its weight and bulk, so that it can be struck without any fear at all of hurting the hawk’s feet; and at the end of the cord or leash to which it is attached, I have fastened the solid weight which is necessary to prevent carrying. This weight may be held in the left hand, while the lure is swung by the right; and when the successful stoop has been made, both can be allowed to fall on the ground.

I have said that some great authorities disapprove of this method of exercising hawks. They say that in the case of game-hawks it spoils them for waiting on, and that in the case of rook-hawks and gull-hawks, the habit of looking for the lure makes them less keen at sighting their wild quarry. There is a great deal in these objections; and I shall not presume to decide between the advocates and opponents of the practice. As regards game-hawks, however, where a hawk has once taken to mounting well, I should certainly not advise any stooping to the lure, for fear of spoiling her pitch. As regards other hawks, I think some part of the force of the objections is removed if the place where the hawks are stooped to the lure is altogether ? 100 ? different from any place in which they are likely to be flown at wild quarry. In lark-hawking it is certainly very essential that the hawk should get sighted at once. But though I have habitually made my merlins stoop at the lure in the early morning, I have not found them in consequence slow in starting at quarry in the afternoon. It cannot be denied that, as far as the hawk’s condition is concerned, stooping at the lure is a grand resource. If you were always quite sure of giving your hawk a hard flight at wild quarry every day, that would doubtless be the best thing for her. But who can be sure of this? Bad weather, scarcity of quarry, and several other causes make it only too certain that there will be many interruptions. But even when you cannot give your hawk a real flight, you can generally stoop her to the lure, and ensure that she has at anyrate had a “breather” during the day. It is very rarely so windy during a whole day that a trained hawk cannot be put on the wing. A peregrine in good condition ought not to be excused by anything short of a whole gale from daily exercise, even if it amounts to no more than calling off or stooping three or four times at the lure.

It is a good thing, even after a hawk is fully made and is flying wild quarry daily, to call her off occasionally to the lure, though you have no need to do so. Sometimes a hawk will have a long run of kills without a miss. I have known such a run to last with a merlin to over thirty. During all the time while such a score is being made, there will have been no occasion to use the lure, except perhaps when a quarry has put in and has had to be routed out. She runs a risk, therefore, of forgetting all about that humble apparatus, to which a few days ago she trusted so confidently for her food. Let her memory, therefore, be refreshed occasionally, by interpolating a fly to the dead lure amongst the long series of uniformly successful flights. Otherwise, at the first unsuccessful one, you may find that the once loved object has lost all its attractions.