“Though naturally one of the wildest of birds, the Gyr-Falcon soon becomes familiar, and, when properly trained, is one of the best ‘Hawkers.’ Even in a state of nature it has been known to throw off its wild habits. An old gentleman in the South of Scotland was in the habit of resting during his morning walk on a seat beneath a wooded precipice. For two or three mornings a young Gyr-Falcon came and sat upon a bough above his head, and at last grew so familiar as to settle upon his shoulders. The gentleman was highly delighted with his new acquaintance, and brought it such food as, from a knowledge of these birds, he knew to be suitable. At length it ceased to meet him,—probably its wild nature, as it got older, subduing the gentle confidence which had dictated its first approaches. He often spoke with lively regret of this interesting friendship; remarkable in any point of view, but still more so when it is considered that the Gyr-Falcon is almost never seen in the place where the incident happened.”
“Perhaps it was a half-trained bird,” suggested Frank.
“Most likely it was,” said Uncle Thomas, “I cannot on any other supposition account for its familiarity. Besides the Peregrine and Gyr-Falcons, there were several others which were trained to Hawking; such as the Merlin, the Kestrel, the Lanner, the Sparrow-Hawk, &c. The former was held in high estimation as a lady’s Hawk, its weight being only six ounces, and, besides, being one of the swiftest and boldest of its tribe, it is most easily tamed and trained.”
“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.”
