94 WILD LIFE IN THE TREE TOPS 



addition to the delights of the country-side, and as such his death must be, in 

 some degree, deplored. 



But from my own point of view, having perhaps an unusual affection for 

 the hawk tribe, I must admit that to see one of them falling dead or wounded to 

 earth fills me with something of the same feeling that one experiences when, 

 amidst the rattle and roar of an attack, one sees a comrade stumble forward and 

 coUapse in a shapeless heap. 



However, the little hawk must be attended to ; and to the joyful tune of 

 the distant sirens, loudly proclaiming that the Armistice had been declared, I 

 ran forward to see what could be done. 



He is lying between two tufts of grass with outstretched wings, and head 

 turned so that he may look at me with his dark, frightened eyes. As I stretch 

 forward a hand to pick him up, he crouches lower, and then, flinging himself 

 on his back, prepares with beak and talons to fight for his life. His wings are 

 half opened, and under each of them a smirch of blood glistens on the pretty 

 barred feathers. 



With as little to do as possible, I pick him gently up, and since no hood is 

 available, a khaki-colomed handkerchief is wrapped loosely round his head. It 

 is then suggested by one of my kindly comrades that I should ' put him out of his 

 misery ' without further delay, and to save further argument I tactfully agree 

 to do so, at the same time making for the quarters where, my friends suppose, 

 the little body will be laid, pending a funeral, for the attentions of a taxidermist. 



But, strangely enough, there is little wrong with the hawk. In spite of 

 the blood on the wings there are no bones broken, and I decide that, with 

 careful handling — of the kind that is given to any newly caught hawk — he will 

 possibly recover. 



For the next few days, then, he is kept in a dark place, attached by jesses,* 

 swivel and leash to a low screen perch, whilst the wing that drooped most is 

 held up by means of what, in the language of Falconry, is known as a ' brail,' 

 and — most important of aU — he is kept undisturbed, and is regularly and 

 properly fed. 



But, whatever the cause, he made rapid progress towards recovery, and soon 

 became exceedingly tame. At the end of a week he would sit unconcerned on 

 his perch, and take his food on the fist like any other partially tamed hawk ; 

 and then he could not very well do otherwise than get used to the attentions of 

 admiring visitors, including, no doubt, the numerous friends of the batman. 



And during all this time the wings were gaining in strength — one was 

 practically sound again, whilst the other, although still drooping, had much 

 improved. 



At the end of a fortnight he was able to fly short distances to the fist for 

 his food, and was happier sitting upon the head or shoulder of one of his visitors 

 * The leather strips attached to the legs of a trained hawk. 



