ABOUT THE KESTREL 93 



A few days later, the young Kestrels, having arrived at the age when they 

 are known by falconers as ' branchers,' had left the nest, and were sitting on 

 the branches about it, spending the greater part of the day in arranging their 

 perfect feathers ; taking short preliminary flights from branch to branch, and 

 returning noisily en masse to the nest when any food was forthcoming. 



Sometimes one of them would carry the prey, or some portion of it, to a 

 neighbouring branch, where, away from the covetous attentions of the rest 

 of the family, he might enjoy the meal in peace. 



And, yet later in their lives, the young Kestrels became so strong on the 

 wing that they did not wait for the parent to bring the food to the nest, but 

 took it from her as she sat on some branch, or on the ground ; or when 

 really strong on the wing even in the air. 



And they quickly learned to fend for themselves. 



A month or so ago I watched three young Kestrels which were reared on 

 an old crow's nest some 600 yards distant, hovering over the down-land, and 

 every now and then dropping on to the grass. First one of them and then 

 another, at intervals of a few seconds, would point his wings towards the sky, 

 and drop, feet first on to an unlucky grasshopper. 



This exercise must be good practice for the young Kestrels, and 

 no doubt puts them as it were on the road to more serious accomplish- 

 ment. 



The Kestrel, like the Buzzard, has amongst falconers the reputation of 

 being a miserable and sluggish bird ; and by comparison with the Merlin or 

 the Sparrow Hawk undoubtedly is somewhat lethargic. 



But that the Kestrel is capable of behaving in a manner belying his dis- 

 agreeable reputation is perhaps apparent from the following strange story in 

 which I chanced to play a part. 



It was on the afternoon of that memorable day the llth of November, 

 1918, when, the Armistice being responsible for a holiday amongst the troops 

 stationed in England, a party of us set out for an afternoon with the elusive 

 partridge. 



We had hardly started on our expedition when a Kestrel was observed 

 hovering over some rough grass about 80 yards away, and opinions were 

 exchanged as to the likelihood of shooting a bird at such a range, with the 

 inevitable result that one of us decided to justify his confidence in his gun, and 

 his prowess, by having a bang at it. 



At the first shot the target merely shifted its pitch a little, but at the 

 second the unfortunate little hawk came tumbling and screaming to earth. 

 As it landed like a tangled bunch of feathers amongst the grass, I was conscious 

 of a sudden pang of remorse. After all, such a bright-eyed, confiding little 

 falcon, even though representing one of the types of what is sometimes regarded 

 as ' vermin,' must at least appeal to the British sportsman as being a charming 



