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was about [ struck the hawk’s hood and cast him off, but to my 
horror with his swivel in his jesses, and the leash, a yard and a 
. quarter long, and its button attached and dangling down. Few 
hawks, I hope, thus adorned or encumbered, have ever been 
asked to take partridges. But it seemed to make little differ- 
ence to this old hand. Up he went in wide rings, and as fast, 
apparently, as ever, with his ridiculous appendages, and when 
high enough, the partridges were moved, and he stooped and 
_ killed one (for the keeper) with little ado. 
On another occasion, I may be said to have “shot at a 
woodcock,” viz., a partridge, “and killed a crow,” viz., an old 
female sparrow-hawk. This very unusual occurrence happened 
on this wise. Late in the afternoon of an October day we 
tried our last flight, using a powerful and very keen Irish 
falcon called “Hrin.” She was very hungry, as usual, 
and after a long wait, birds being scarce, got a bad chance 
at distant partridges, and finally lost them in cover. The 
only bird of any kind I had seen for half an hour previously 
had been a female sparrow-hawk hunting for her supper, 
and apparently not likely to get it. I lured up the hawk; 
and “‘Here she comes,” I heard my servant cry. And 
come she did; but in a moment, distant speck as she was, 
_ my glass showed me her wings in the rapid action of desperate 
_ speed, and not moving with the leisurely beat of a hawk coming 
_ toa “lure,” which has no such attractions for her as the sight 
_ of live quarry moving before her. What couldit mean? I felt 
- convinced there were no partridges for half a mile, and I felt 
- sure there was nothing else, save a wood pigeon, safe, in a distant 
belt of Scotch firs. However, on came the falcon, straight for us, 
(hence my man’s very natural mistake), and unmistakeably flying 
something, for she passed very rapidly high over our heads, 
utterly ignoring the offered “lure.” ‘‘ Whatever can it be?” 
“Can’t imagine, sir.” Right in front of us, 300 yards off, and 
- high in air, was the sparrowhawk, the only bird in sight, and 
_ I felt convinced that the falcon, absurd as it seemed, was bent on 
her capture! So I got on my horse (we always have one out, 
and near) and rode off. And well I did, for I saw one of the 
