eyesses, as well as passage peregrines, may be flown at the rook; but this quarry is more suitable for a falcon than a tiercel. mr. o’keefe used eyess falcons for this flight, and once killed with them on the curragh of kildare as many as 117 in three weeks. william barr had an eyess which, when entered to rooks, took as many as seven in nine flights. comet, belonging to mr. brodrick, took many rooks. it is only rather exceptionally that a tiercel can be got to fly them. but mr. newcome’s passage tiercel, will o’ the wisp, took them very well. the difficulty which is generally experienced in entering falcons to rooks is much greater in their brothers’ case. and the superiority of the passage hawk over the eyess is more marked in this flight than in game-hawking. besides peregrines, several other kinds of long-winged hawks may be trained to take this quarry—gers of both sexes, lanners, and perhaps some lannerets, and the shaheen falcon, both black and red. no doubt the saker of both sexes would afford excellent sport with rooks. i am not aware that the training of any of these hawks for such a flight differs from that recommended for the peregrine.

for a rook-flight very open country is required. it would be no use to attempt it in what is called a well-wooded district, or where hedge-row trees grow as they do in the far greater part of cultivated england. a single tree, or even tall bush, will ruin a whole square mile of otherwise suitable ground. nor is it sufficient that the land should be clear of trees and buildings. many other obstacles, such as tall, stiff hedges, wire railings, and even sheep-folds, full or empty, are detrimental to the sport. a flock of sheep, a drove of pigs, or even a herd of cattle being driven along, is quite enough to utterly spoil a good flight. thus in all england there are but few places where you ? 102 ? can carry on this sport with success. amongst them are parts of the berkshire and wiltshire downs, and some of the south-downs, though these are usually too undulating. parts of norfolk, especially near lakenheath, are good; and so are portions of the fen country, where there is not too much water. in the north of england and in several counties in ireland there are moors and open spaces which do well.

it must not be supposed, however, that the passage peregrine, or any other of the big long-winged hawks, any more than the eyesses, take kindly to rook-flying. some have so little fancy for this unattractive quarry, that they can never by any skill be induced to fly them with any zest. generally it is necessary to use either a make-hawk or bagged quarry for entering the beginners. the way in which such quarry are used has been sufficiently explained in the last chapter. but, as everyone does not know how to catch a rook, a few hints borrowed from the sister art of bird-catching may not be out of place. the commonest way of entrapping a rook is to send a boy up to the top of a tree in a well-frequented rookery with the end of a string, with which he can make a noose or nooses, and set them on the old nests to which the birds resort before roosting for the night. at the moment when the noisy crowd come back to the rookery and settle on their accustomed perches, a simultaneous pull at several lines connected with properly-laid nooses will generally secure a victim or more. another plan by which a rook is made to look even more foolish is to go round with a plough in a field where rooks come to pick up the worms which it turns up. the rook-catcher must be provided with a number of paper hoods made like large extinguishers, and these he will place upside down in the furrow with a tempting bait—grain, worm, or meat—in their inside. the rest of the inside of each cap is well smeared with bird-lime or some other very sticky matter; and the rook, in picking at the food, may be hoped sometimes to hood himself. then while in his astonishment he struggles to get rid of this blinding fool’s cap, he may be picked up and carried off into captivity.

when the newly-entered hawk has taken his bagged rook, you must get up as quickly as you can and make in at once. then seizing the “pelt,” or dead body of the quarry, you must contrive so that the hawk, instead of breaking in upon that unsavoury morsel, shall proceed by mistake to begin her meal upon a pigeon which you have just before killed, and which you surreptitiously substitute for by holding it side by side with the dead rook. the object, of course, is to induce in her ladyship’s ? 103 ? mind the belief that she is eating what she has killed, and finds it uncommonly good. eyesses are naturally deceived very easily into this fallacious notion. as for passage hawks, it is quite possible that many of them have no more idea than eyesses what a rook tastes like. unless they have ever been hard pressed for a meal, it is more than probable that they have never condescended to dine off a rook. anyhow, they will not be at all unwilling to lend themselves to a deception fraught with such gratifying results. “dear me,” may be the haggard’s inward reflection, “what a goose i have been all this time never to pay any attention to these vulgar black birds! why, they taste as good as pigeon!” and the next time she has a chance of paying attention, she will. this “personation trick” is invariably used by indian and asiatic falconers in kite-flying with sakers. it is necessary, or at least advisable, in entering hawks at herons, gulls, and other coarse-fleshed birds. in the case of rooks it may be discontinued after a short while, if it is found on a cautious trial that the hawk will eat rook with any relish. many falcons, when flying rooks almost daily, are habitually fed upon the last victim they have killed in the day. but it is not to be supposed that any hawk will be very fond of such coarse viands; and some will not eat them at all.

supposing now that the rook-hawk is safely entered, and a suitable country found, the next thing is to also find a wild rook in a suitable part of that country. and this is not altogether an easy matter. in some very excellent districts, where the rooks are flown at every year, they become excessively wary, and quite clever at avoiding the chance of a good slip at them. the old birds, who have been spectators of many a battle in the air in which one of their comrades was worsted and lost his life, or who have perhaps even themselves done battle, and escaped with great difficulty, become suspicious of all mounted men. they remember very well and with a fluttering heart the appearance of the little squadron of horsemen which once brought with them lady long-wing, who made such a dreadful example of poor papa caw-caw. who can say that they do not remember the very faces and the green uniforms of the murderous men to whom lady long-wing belonged? anyhow, as they strut on the hillside or pick about along the furrows, they are on the alert directly a detachment of irregular cavalry comes in sight, which looks at all as if it might be accompanied by hawks. very often their sentinels incontinently give the signal of alarm, and the flock scuds off summarily to safer feeding-grounds. at all events they do so ? 104 ? long before they can be approached within what a beginner would consider a reasonable distance. the result is that in order to get within reach of such quarry it has sometimes been found necessary to resort to stratagem. rooks have been stalked by a falconer on foot creeping along behind the shelter of a waggon, or actually disguised as a farm labourer. sometimes the hawking party will lie concealed under the lee of a rick, waiting for a distant rook to cross within range, or to be driven by mounted beaters in the direction of the ambush. and after all precautions have been taken it is often useless to wait for a short slip. the distance at which good passage hawks are now thrown off at wiltshire rooks will astonish a person who has never seen anything better than a moderate eyess. a quarter of a mile is not considered at all too long a start when a hawk is a fast one and in good flying order. but the longer the start the better the country must be if you are to score a kill.

a falconer on the look-out for rooks will often have to get over a good deal of ground in the day. twenty miles—without counting in the flights—is probably rather under than over the average distance when any considerable number of hawks are to be flown. it is, of course, almost a necessity to be mounted; and it is well to have a horse under you which is not new to the business, especially if you are to carry a hawk yourself, or may be called upon to take one up. a horse which has never been out with the hawks before is likely to be very much put out by the ringing of the hawk’s bell, and still more if she also flutters her wings in a high wind. while following a ringing flight your eyes will naturally be directed more towards the realms above than to the ground over which you are galloping; and, as many of the downs on which this sport is most often pursued abound in ant-hills, if your animal stumbles over one of these obstacles you are likely to pay for your inattention by a severe cropper. if it falls to your lot to take up the hawk after she has killed, you must, of course, dismount. to enable you to do this and devote your whole attention to it, a special apparatus is provided. to the outside of your saddle will be attached a pocket, within which can be fitted a leaden weight secured by a leather, the other end of which can be attached to the horse’s head, so that by merely throwing the weight on the ground he is at once tethered. no one of course presumes to take up another man’s hawk unless it has been so arranged beforehand, or in case of urgent necessity, as for instance if the owner is not in sight, and there is danger that the hawk may be attacked on the ground ? 105 ? by some deadly enemy. of course rook-hawking may be attempted on foot. but unless markers are posted skilfully at the places where a hawk is likely to go out of sight, there is great risk of losing her. moreover, it is impossible to see much of the best flights. a great deal of time will be wasted in moving about between each flight; and still more in shifting the markers from place to place, as well as in finding the hawk after a long flight which has ended in a kill. the rook-hawker on foot comes back footsore, and very weary. and he is lucky if these are the only ills of which he has to complain.

rook-hawks which have been brought out to fly, but are not for the time actually engaged, either because their turn has not come, or because they have already flown and been fed up, are either carried about by a cadger on the cadge, or made fast to a field-block in a well-sheltered place, or consigned to perches rigged up in the inside of a van, which can be drawn by a cart-horse. the latter plan is adopted by the old hawking club, by which more hawks are usually taken out than could be accommodated on one cadge. it has the great merit of serving to protect the inmates from the bitterly cold winds which often prevail in the rook-hawking season, and also from the rain. such a van should be well provided with springs. otherwise the jolting, while it passes over rough ground, as it needs must, would do almost more mischief than the wind or rain. in any case, whether you go singly with a single hawk on your fist or with a whole cadge full or van full of hungry peregrines, the hood will be worn. nor will it be removed until the moment arrives when the wearer is to be thrown off. but when any hawk is being carried with a view to a flight the swivel will be detached from the jesses and the latter held tightly in the fingers of the left hand. some falconers who use ring swivels in the field, take them off directly the hawk is taken on the fist for the purpose of being flown, and then slipping the leash through one ring of the swivel and afterwards through the loops in the two jesses, are ready to pull it out quickly when there is a rook in sight and it becomes possible that they may have to throw off at any moment. some also, when a flight is pretty sure to begin shortly, loosen the hood’s braces without taking it off, so that there may be no delay in whipping it off at exactly the right moment. no one has ever been able to explain how it is that peregrines can emerge suddenly from utter darkness into the full glare of daylight, with eyesight as good as ever, ready in the very first moment to catch sight of a distant rook and to begin the chase. that ? 106 ? they have this faculty everyone knows who has ever seen a rook flown by a trained peregrine. fortunate for the falconer that it is so, as he can choose his own moment for the throw-off.

if you are intending to fly a hawk for the first time at a wild rook, get some other person who is out with a made hawk to be also ready with her. then, if the first chance at a rook is not an easy one, let that other person throw off his hawk and keep yours for a less difficult flight. wait, if possible, until you can find a quarry which is not too far off and not high in the air. if you can get up within a hundred yards or so of one on the ground to windward of you, so much the better. the moment he jumps up, off with the hood, and with a steady movement of the left arm forwards, something like that of a left-arm slow bowler, launch your hawk into the wind. use whatever cry of encouragement you like, or use none at all; at anyrate, not any cry which you may have used in calling off. and if, in the excitement of the moment you should not throw away the hood, but stuff it into your pouch or pocket, that will also be satisfactory. if you drop it you are not likely to find it on the open down without some hours’ search, if at all. such presence of mind is, however, i am aware, rather too great to expect.

a rook with any self-respect about him will begin to mount as soon as he is aware that he is being pursued. and of this fact he will not be long in ignorance. seldom does a trained hawk make half a dozen strokes of her wing before the quarry espies her and knows exactly what she means. with this knowledge the black-a-moor of the air wakes up, and then, if never before, he is on his mettle. few people know how a rook can fly until they have seen him in front of a peregrine which means business. his wings are broad and strong, and not much worse shaped than a hawk’s. his muscles are good; and by reason of much daily exercise in all weathers he is in good condition—better far, perhaps, than your passage hawk, which was cooped up inactive for weeks, and only during the last fortnight or so has had a modicum of exercise while flying to the lure. the two birds will breast the wind as they mount; but not necessarily taking the same line. sometimes the two lines will diverge so much that from your point of view behind, the birds seem to be flying away from one another. generally speaking, the better the hawk the less slavishly will she follow the course taken by the quarry. she flies “with her head,” and, trusting for victory to the long, powerful stoop, concentrates her efforts on attaining to a position from which she can deliver it to best advantage. thus if, the wind being north, and the safest shelter west, the ? 107 ? rook shapes his course to the north-west, the falcon may very probably steer due west. by doing so she makes sure that she will soon be almost between the quarry and that desirable place of refuge. to make it he must come right past her and under her. or else he must keep away and make for another covert, and in that case he will have a long way to go; and there will be time to catch him up, and get between him and that other haven. to passage hawks, especially haggards, this finessing is the a b c of scientific flying. moreover, an experienced hawk does not always choose to stoop exactly up-wind, but prefers, for some reason of her own, to come at her victim sideways. there are mysterious laws and principles of a?rial steering, which no man understands, but which sometimes make a stoop more telling when made in a direction unexpected by the riders down below. eyesses are generally some time before they learn the art of utilising the wind to increase the force of their stoop, and of using their heads to help their wings. some, it is true, seem to be born good tacticians, or at least to have instinctively learnt to be so while flying at hack. but these are quite the exceptions. not only do eyesses as a rule begin with an inferior style, but very few of them ever attain to the perfection of form which long practice in all weathers at all sorts of different quarry has taught the old wild hawk.

as the two birds mount, the hawk naturally gains on the rook. she is the quicker flier; sometimes, perhaps, by a hundred per cent., but generally much less than this. going down-wind there is not so much difference between them, when both are at the same height. but the start at a rook should always be up-wind. to throw off at a down-wind rook is bad falconry. when a rook means to “keep the air,” or beat the hawk in fair flying, he will, after a while, begin to ring, that is, to ascend spirally in circles. why he should do this, instead of continuing in a straight line, no one, i think, has properly explained. but the road upwards for most birds when they are exerting themselves—be they kites, herons, rooks, or larks—is in spiral circles more or less regular, a very obliging dispensation of nature for those who want to look on at a high flight! for while the ringing lasts the horsemen down below need not hurry themselves. only, if there is anything of a wind they should always keep moving, so as to be well to leeward of the flight, shifting their ground to right or left according as the circles seem to tend in one or the other direction. the higher the quarry goes the faster and farther will be the headlong dash down-wind if he is beaten in the air. after a while, if the hawk ? 108 ? perseveres, her superior flying powers will take her above the quarry. at what time and height this desirable result is brought about depends, of course, partly upon the speed of the one bird and partly on the speed of the other. there is a saying among falconers that a good hawk makes a bad quarry, meaning that a rook or other bird which might give a fine flight when only a moderate hawk was behind him very often makes quite a poor show against a first-rate performer. it may also be said with some truth that a good quarry makes a bad hawk, inasmuch as hawks which have flown many a good flight and killed many a fairly fast-flying rook may sometimes find themselves pitted against such exceptionally strong ones that they seem unable to get above them, and give to the stranger an appearance of being slow themselves.

a good and experienced falcon or other rook-hawk will not be content with merely getting above her quarry before she makes her first stoop. she will go on ringing until she is so far above that the first stoop will be a good one. that is to say, that she may be able to get such an impetus upon her in the dash downwards as to rush up to the rook hand over hand, or, as the racing men say, as if he were standing still. and, having so run up to him, that she may, if she misses him, utilise the remainder of her impetus in shooting up again in preparation for a second stoop. the rook, on his part, when he finds the falcon above him, has to choose between two courses. either he will persevere in trying to keep the air—and in that case must trust to quick turns and twists to elude the foe—or he will adopt the less valiant but almost equally dangerous alternative of a race to the nearest covert, with the necessity of eluding a certain number of stoops on the way. in the first case the flight will become a sort of improved version of coursing. improved, because a bird has so much more varied chances of throwing out his pursuer than the hare, which can turn only either to the right or the left. he must always be on what the mathematicians call the same plane. the rook, on the other hand, may, if he likes, double simply to right or left. but he may also, if he prefers it, duck downwards or shoot upwards, allowing the hawk to pass over him or under him. or he may turn partly upwards or downwards, and partly to either side. thus there are an unlimited number of angles at which he can swerve away to avoid the stroke.

the art and science of “shifting” is indeed one of the most elaborate that is possessed by the dumb creature. almost all birds cultivate it to a certain degree. instinct suggests it to ? 109 ? them; but many birds improve upon their natural powers by frequent practice. who has not seen one rook chasing another, either in sport or in a petulant humour, and the fugitive evidently enjoying the fun of throwing out his persecutor? in the tropics there is nothing that a crow likes better than stooping at kites; and nothing that the kite takes greater pride in than showing how easily he can elude the shots so made at him. i have seen pigeons, when a slow or lazy peregrine is in the air, deliberately hang about within reach of her for the express purpose of enjoying the amusement of successfully shifting when she makes a dash for them. indeed, it will be seen in chapter xix. that i saw this game played rather too rashly by a house-pigeon with a trained ger-tiercel. it has been said that the rook in full plumage is no mean flier. he has also a good head on his glossy shoulders, and he shifts cleverly enough while his lungs and muscles hold out. he does not often lose his head, in the metaphysical sense. sometimes, when particularly close shots graze him, or even feather him, he is frightened into wasting a little breath in an angry complaining croak. but this is almost the only piece of stupidity that can be alleged against him. usually, however hard pressed, he keeps all his wits about him; and when he is beaten in the air, it is oftenest from sheer want of speed and want of wind. the violent effort required to escape by shifting a good stoop of a first-rate peregrine takes it out of him terribly. the whiz of the falcon as she rushes by is enough to make the stoutest heart quail. but cowardice is not the weak point of the rook, who, for the most part, has a determined and fair struggle for his life.

of course the stoop takes it out of the hawk also. but then the hawk has two great advantages. she is the faster bird, and she is better at the “throw up.” this is the counter-move by which she responds to the shifts of the quarry. a good long-winged hawk, after an unsuccessful stoop, immediately shoots up to a great height above the place where the stoop was intended to take effect. she rebounds, as it were, from the rapid descent, glancing upwards with wide open wings to a new position of advantage. and herein she has the advantage of the greyhound. the farther the dog is thrown out, the more laborious is the work of getting into position for the next attack. but a falcon may come past her quarry with as much way on as ever she can command. that impetus need not carry her away to a disadvantageous position, but, on the contrary, to one where she is still admirably placed for a fresh stoop. by throwing up well and with good judgment, and sometimes a little luck, a ? 110 ? good hawk after once getting well above her rook will keep the command of the air for the rest of the flight. the quarry may throw up too; but if his pursuer makes the most of her first advantage, he will always find her above him after he has done so. it may be that she will be very wide of him. but distance calculated in mere length counts for comparatively little. it is the distance in height from the earth below that makes all the difference.

consequently, if the rook persists in trying to keep the air, and lady long-wing has the pluck and the condition to keep up the chase, the time comes sooner or later when the shift is not strong enough or not quick enough. then as you watch the two birds—or the two little specks, as they may by that time have become—the lines along which they are moving will be seen to converge and not separate again. there will be a shout of jubilation from below. “who-whoop”: it is the death-cry. one of those eight sharp talons which, half hid by feathers, arm the lower side of the hawk’s body has hooked itself into some bone, or at least some fleshy part, of the victim’s body. then from the under side of the slim falcon, as she spreads her wings and sinks nearer into sight, will be seen hanging a confused mass of black shiny feathers. as the two birds—victor and vanquished—come down to earth, the former will sometimes be seen tightening her grasp or catching hold with the second foot. at anyrate, within less than a second after they have reached the ground, the deadly clutch of the conqueror will be on the head of the conquered. in another second or two the point of her beak will have broken the victim’s neck at the top of the vertebral column. no man can encompass the killing of a rook so speedily and neatly as can a peregrine. within a marvellously short time after the last stoop was delivered, the head of the captured bird droops inert from the dislocated neck, and life is completely extinct.

death of a rook

? 111 ?

such is the finish of a ringing flight flown out on both sides with unflagging courage—the sort of flight which every true sportsman would like to see often in the hawking-field. but much more often the rook, when getting the worst of it in the air, abandons the hope of beating his foe in fair mounting and fair man?uvring. taking advantage of some moment—perhaps after an ineffectual stoop—when his foe is a trifle wide, and on the side farthest from a covert which he has marked as a possible place of refuge, he turns tail, and makes off—down-wind if possible, or if not, across the wind—to that seductive shelter. a wood or spinny is what he would prefer, but a tree of any kind will do—the taller the better. a farmyard or a flock of sheep, even a hedge or an empty sheep-fold, or a waggon—anything behind or around which he can save himself from the dreaded stoop. in any, even of the least effective refuges, there will be at least a respite. and if that very poor stronghold is found untenable, he can begin a fresh retreat to a more promising place, with recovered wind, and perhaps better luck. often a rook will make for a rather distant plantation, with a nearer shelter of an inferior kind in view as a pis aller. the hawk, of course, knows as well as he what he is after, and follows at her best pace. now is the time to ride hard. even with a moderate wind the birds will be travelling over a mile a minute. ride as you will, they will be over your head long before you are near the covert, if it is at all distant. lucky if you are even in time to be near when the first down-wind stoop is delivered. the down-wind stoop of a peregrine is terrible. it is often avoided, no doubt, but the impetus, if she misses, carries her on right ahead of the rook, over the place where he must pass if he goes on. and there she is, blocking the way to the desired haven. she can poise herself steadily for the next shot, choosing her own time for it, and will have every possible advantage over the rook, which has to run the gauntlet of those eight dagger-like talons. the last stoop before reaching covert is very often fatal. the hawk knows that probably it is her last chance of catching hold, whereas in the open she is aware that a very fast stroke, though not quite accurately aimed, will do a great deal towards taking the nerve and strength out of her quarry, and make him easier to hit later on.

if the rook once makes a plantation of any size, he is safe. no human power can drive him out. peregrines, of course, will not go into cover after their quarry. now and then a young hawk at hack will try to do something vague in the way of cutting down or dislodging a bird which has put in; but such attempts are dismal failures, and are hardly ever even thought of by “grown-ups.” if the rook has put in to a very low tree or a tall hedge, he may often be dislodged by throwing sticks and stones at him, or sending a boy up. sometimes snapping a cap on a pistol, or cracking a whip, or making any other sudden and loud noise, will put him on the wing again. but before going far, he is only too likely to put back to the same place, or to a neighbouring tree, if one is near, or to another part of the hedge. even when the shelter is only a low line of hurdles, it is quite difficult to hustle out a rook so that the peregrine, waiting on above, may have a fair shot at him. a big tree is generally a ? 112 ? safe refuge. if you send anyone up, the refugee will only shift his quarters to another branch. and all the time while you are trying to get him out, the hawk will be circling above—if, indeed, she does not get tired of waiting, and start after some other quarry. with a passage hawk which has not long been at work, you cannot risk keeping her long in the air on the chance of your routing out a rook that has put in. she may check at a passing pigeon, or at a quite distant flock of rooks, or any other bird which she was once wont to kill, and then, even if you are well mounted, you will have great difficulty in keeping her in sight. if, therefore, you are hawking with a passager, and cannot get your rook out quickly, take her down with the lure, and have a try later on at another rook in the open.

if the hawk kills, the falconer will get up at once, and “make in” in the manner described in the chapter on entering. there is not much danger of any attempt to carry when the quarry is as big a bird as a rook. but caution should be observed, nevertheless, as, if you are rough or in a hurry, you may induce in the hawk a disposition to carry, which on some future occasion may cause no end of trouble. do not even now let your hawk feed upon the rook, unless you are quite sure that she likes such food. take care that from the first she shall be well pleased with having taken this quarry, which is not the one she is predisposed to fancy. if in doubt about her liking for rook’s flesh, substitute a pigeon. and it is as well to be contented with one kill on the first day. a fresh flight might not end so happily, and would then partly annul the good effect of the one that has succeeded. besides, you want to reward your hawk for her victory by giving her a good feed at once, which of course you could not do if you intended to fly her again. be well satisfied, therefore, that the first step has been made towards making a good rook-hawk. after a few more flights, if even a moderate percentage of them end well, your pupil will begin to take a delight in the business. sometimes she will become so keen at it that you can freely let her feed upon the last rook she kills in the day. only do not give her too much of this food. it would be a thousand pities if, after having acquired a liking for this flight, she should, for the sake of a small economy to her owner, be allowed to become disgusted with it.

rooks may be flown as soon as the passage hawks are trained. old peregrines can of course be flown at any time (except when there are young rooks in the nests). but the winter and early part of the year is the best time, as later on ? 113 ? the young crops preclude the possibility of riding over arable land; and it is impossible to ensure that the area of a flight shall be confined to the open downs. it is on some broad expanse of turf, however, that the quarry should be found, if you are to enjoy a good gallop and a proper view of the flight; for if you have to jump fences, you must needs take your eyes off the birds, and it may then be difficult to catch sight of them quickly again. you should not fly at a rook if there is any tolerable covert within half a mile down-wind, or a third of a mile on either side. the distance up-wind to the nearest covert need not be so great. when a rook is just rising off the ground, you can of course give him more law than when he is already on the wing. for, as has been said, height in the air counts very much more than distance along the flat. even the small elevation from which a hawk starts as you carry her on horseback gives her a certain advantage over the rook which is only just off the ground. rook flights often end more than a mile in a straight line from the start. but generally this is equivalent to saying that the distance flown has been more than double as much, by reason of the doublings and up-and-down dashes which both birds have made. in following a flight, it is best to keep about a quarter of a mile to leeward, or as near this as you can get, while keeping a good view of the scene. as the rook gets higher, still keep well to leeward, until you are pretty sure what covert the rook will ultimately make for. a little practice will generally enable you to make a pretty good guess, although perhaps for a while the rook may be heading a different way. if you are wrong, and find yourself thrown out, perhaps the best plan is not to ride hard in the vain hope of getting nearer, but take out your field-glasses, and watch the flight from about where you are. each man out who knows enough about hawking to be able to take up a hawk, should carry a spare lure, so that, in case of a lost hawk, he may try for her in his own direction, while others are engaged on the same task in theirs. agree beforehand, however, with the owner of the hawk, that if you find her you may take her up.

falcons are generally flown single at rooks, except at the time of entering them with a make-hawk. in a double flight i think that the rook is as a rule a bit overmatched, that is, if the hawks are in proper fettle. but for entering a backward hawk, or encouraging one which does not take kindly to this flight, it is very useful to use a make-hawk, that is to say, one which is already keen in the cause. most hawks are very strongly influenced by example; and a young eyess particularly, ? 114 ? recognising as she does the superior style of a haggard or passager, will readily imitate her, and join in a chase upon which she sees that the other has embarked. a double flight is very pretty, and very effective. the way in which the two hawks assist one another, waiting each for her turn to stoop, and making her plans so as to profit by the action of her comrade for increasing the force of her own strokes, is interesting even to the most careless observer of animal life. but the double flight is better reserved for such more arduous undertakings as the pursuit of kites, herons, and gulls. a few words will be said in a later chapter about these quarry and the sport they afford. but in all the main particulars it resembles that which has been here described. the rook flight is at once the commonest and the most typical form of sport when the hawks are flown out of the hood; and he who has successfully trained a peregrine to this business should have no great difficulty in making any other of the large long-winged hawks to such other quarry.