144 WOODLAND CREATURES 



does not care an atom for the falconer, but when 

 hungry and " sharp-set " she is a different bird, 

 returning obediently to his whistle for the meat 

 she has learnt he will provide. Yet even the 

 most perfectly " manned " and trained sparrow 

 hawk is a bundle of nerves, and, as already remarked, 

 liable to be upset by the slightest thing, bateing 

 frantically at the sight of a strange dog, or taking 

 stand in a tree and sulking there for an hour or 

 more. But we will imagine that our spar-hawk 

 is in a very good-temper, and that she is sit- 

 ting keen and alert on the fist ready for a flight. 

 Her leash and swivel have been taken off, and she 

 is merely held by the short leather straps or jesses. 

 In addition she carries a little bell tied to her leg, 

 the purpose of which will be apparent presently. 

 A friend, who has consented to act as beater, goes to 

 the farther side of some thorn bushes that stand 

 isolated in the midst of the meadow. If there is 

 a blackbird in them, it will have to face the open, 

 for there is no other shelter within three hundred 

 yards. The hawk understands the business as 

 well as we do; indeed, she is so keen that when 

 the beater thumps the bushes and a bramble stem 

 shakes she thinks it is a bird coming out, and 

 casts herself from the hand, so that when a moment 

 later one does come out she is hardly ready. By 

 bateing at the quivering bramble she has spoilt 

 her start. Away goes the blackbird, after it darts 

 the hawk, flying across the meadow like an arrow 

 shot from a bow, but the bad start has spoilt the 

 flight, and with a shriek that ends in a chuckle 



