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Mr. Reginald Phillipps,



victims in its track : what is one bird’s life is another bird’s death !

However, not in any case did a young Hobby become affected after

it had grown sufficiently to fly freely about.


I customarily allowed the Hobbies and Kestrels, and some¬

times the less reliable Sparrow-Hawks, with bells on * (ferret bells),

and various other birds, to fly loose during the day ; and certainly

it was a pretty sight, and a very pleasing experience too, as I chanced

any time to be returning home, that there should suddenly appear

from various points a number of hawks flying dead at me, each in a

bee-line like so many spokes of a wheel, and all bursting into their

wildest cries as they neared me, perching on my upraised arm, on

my shoulders and head, screaming and fighting over my cap (which

I had to take care of), and frolicking and circling around me in reck¬

less delight; and many were the queer stories, not altogether fables,

which the country folk had of “Master Reginald ” and the birds.

One case was certainly a little startling. I was some way from

home, and a large flock of Rooks and Jackdaws was passing over

homeward-bound, when one of the latter, detaching ifself from its

comrades, curved backwards and downwards and circled round and

round my head uttering friendly caws of recognition, and, settling on

the ground only three or four yards away, greeted me with unfeigned

pleasure. It was a truant that had given me wing-bail some time

previously. Two country fellows near-by looked upon the scene

with stern set faces and grave suspicion. In earlier days, I suppose,

I should have been subjected to a treatment of bell, book, and candle,

and a warm quarter-of-an-hour at the stake. But I am digressing.

Towards evening, I had but to sound my whistle, and seldom had

trouble in getting my little flock into their loft. I must admit, I

fear, that the Hobbies were neither so active and interesting on the

wing, so clever in finding their way back to the mews, nor so en¬

gaging as pets as were the common and unwisely-despised Kestrels.


I have referred to the Hobby as being a rare species ; never¬

theless, from later observations, I am inclined to think that it may



* The cottagers did not understand the bells, and mistook the tinklings

for the voices of the birds. “It is nowght but a Gled ”—but they had never

heard a Gled make a noise like that. Now a Gled is a Kite ; so there must have

been a time, not so very far distant in my days, when the species was fairly

common.—R.P.



