162 ^VILD LIFE IN CHINA. 



position to observe, nor was the light so good. We know 

 that swallows can easily cover a mile and a half in the minute, 

 and it is generally believed that the swift as easily passes 

 the swallow. When, therefore, one reads, as might have been 

 done in a recent copy of "Country Life,'" a letter descriptive 

 of the capture of swifts on the wing by a hobby, one is 

 prepared to believe that handsome little falcon ranks 

 amongst the very fastest, if he is not actually the fastest, 

 of birds. 



Such qualities would be a sure passport to popularity if 

 they stood alone. But they do not. For strange though it 

 seems, these fierce birds are amongst the most docile of the 

 avian tribe. They might be termed the greyhounds of the bird 

 world. The dog in his wild state doubtless knew his own 

 limitations. Very soon after his first association with man, 

 he must have discovered how much better a chance he had 

 of securing his prey when, to his own powers, there was 

 added the sagacity of his master. Just so with the birds of 

 prey. We have seen that in China even the king of birds 

 himself thinks it no disgrace to hunt with man. The aid is 

 mutual. Falcons of various kinds are not merely docile: 

 when sympathetically treated, they evince an actual love for 

 those who train, feed, and work with them, and will return to 

 the shoulder or wrist of a loved master as a dog will return to 

 his heels. Herein lies a particular and personal reason why 

 man thinks even more of the falcon tribe than he does of the 

 bigger and more powerful eagles. The matter of falconry is 

 one to which we must return by and by. It is time now to 

 look at the representatives of the genus Faico as we find 

 them in China. There are many which never appear in this 

 part of the world, but we have more than enough to afford 

 interest to up-country wandering. 



Falco peregriniis, the peregrinating, or wandering, or 

 pilgrim falcon, is our finest. He is almost ubiquitous, and is 

 easily distinguished from several minor kinds by his size, 

 reaching in his noble self to some fifteen inches in length, 

 and that of his still nobler partner, whom he takes "for 

 better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, till death us do 

 part," to about two inches longer. As the peregrine always 

 takes its food in the air, or with a swoop off the ground, it 

 is easy to see what advantage it gains from the help of men 

 and dogs to start its hidden quarry. The prey once taken, 

 the appropriateness of the term falco, whence comes our 

 "falchion," is seen at once, for the cutting power of the 

 sharp bill is extraordinary. Thomas Edward, the Scottish 

 naturalist to whom I have before referred, tells how he once 

 watched the dissection of a partridge, of which he had seen 

 the capture, by a peregrine. The prey was not merelj' 



