ROOK HAWKING 299 



when the horse will rapidly appreciate the luxury of being left 

 to himself with only a slight check upon his movements, and 

 will be only too glad to remain near the spot where his master 

 dismounts as long as he pleases to leave him. 



The following description of a flight at rooks appeared in 

 print some years ago, but as it gives a fair idea of the sport we 

 venture to reproduce it with slight alteration : — 



Let us suppose that we are out for a day's rook hawking, and 

 that we have arrived at our ground. All around, as far as the eye 

 can reach, are wide rolling downs, partly cultivated, but still in a 

 great measure clothed by the smooth virgin turf that has never 

 known the touch of ploughshare or harrow. It is a lovely spring 

 day ; there is a mild gentle wind from the south, with a warm sun, 

 tempered by great fleecy clouds, throwing upon the turf huge 

 shadows which seem to race one another from slope to slope of the 

 downs. 



We take up our position behind a stack to wait for a rook 

 passing on his way from the rookery in the valley to the sheepfold 

 on the hill. Presently we see one coming, toiling slowly over the 

 shoulder of the down. Shall we fly one of the young falcons lately 

 entered and coming on so well ? Or shall it be the old heroine of 

 a hundred flights, victress over more than double that number of 

 rooks, that flies now in her fourth season with all the vigour and 

 dash she displayed in the blinding snowstorms and heavy gales of 

 her'first year? A hundred or two of yards is far enough for a slip 

 with a young hawk, but with a real good one a quarter of mile is 

 not too far, while many and many a time, if the wind be right 

 for her, the old hawk has been slipped at rooks a fair half-mile 

 away. It looks as if this slip would be too far for a young hawk, 

 so the handsome old falcon is taken on hand, to the delight of the 

 whole field, not one of whom, however large it may be, but will 

 stay out 'just one half-hour more' when it is announced that it is 

 the turn of old ' Bois-le-duc' to fly at the next chance that occurs. 



All is hushed as the rook, a single bird, presumably a strong 

 old cock, comes slowly up. He passes us and is going nicely on 

 up wind when something about the party awakens his suspicions, 

 and he gives a sudden swerve that in one second takes him about 

 1 50 yards off" on a side wind. We are not to be done in this way 

 though, and in a moment the head of our party, with the falcon on 

 hand, dashes out at a brisk gallop down wind of the rook, which 



