166 ART AND PRACTICE OF HAWKING 



claws, long and sharp as they are, do not penetrate to any vital 

 part of the partridge as they do when a sparrow is the victim. 

 Nor do her long spindle-like legs look as if they could do much 

 service in a wrestling bout, when opposed to the short, stout, 

 and very muscular understandings of the other. But Lady 

 Macbeth makes play with her wings and tail as well as her feet 

 and legs, otherwise she could be upset and shaken off in no 

 time. Half a dozen long feathers pressed down into the ground 

 on each side prevent her from being thrown to right or left ; a 

 dozen almost equally long and elastic feathers behind steady 

 her still further, and act as a sort of drag if the struggling 

 partridge tries to rush forward and so free itself. So, though 

 the encounter is fierce, as the two feathered bodies sway about 

 spasmodically over the rough surface of the furrow, the assailant 

 keeps the upper hand ; and soon the allied forces come up in 

 support. The trainer, joyous at the tardy success which has 

 crowned his afternoon, gets hold of one of the partridge's wings 

 and holds it down, so that the kicks and scratchings to which 

 he now resorts are wasted on the insensible clods beneath. 

 The hawk now shifts one foot from the shoulder to the head ; 

 two claws imbed themselves in the face and neck. A third, 

 sad to say, pierces the falconer's unguarded thumb ; but though 

 he moans with the pain, he does not withdraw his hand till he has 

 cleared it from the hooked claw. Then, with sharp knife, he 

 severs the partridge's jugular vein, and, opening the skull, allows 

 the hawk to pick out the brain. Lady Macbeth will now be 

 fed up ; she has had some work and some encouragement, and 

 we shall next time try to find her another short start at a 

 partridge. 



One of the merits of " birding " with a sparrow - hawk is 

 that everyone out is always busily engaged. Everyone thinks 

 that he has marked the exact spot where the fugitive put in, 

 and can lay his hand at once on the place where his cunning 

 head is hiding under the ferns or leaves. And yet when the 

 hedge is reached these boastings are all falsified, and the hiding- 

 places seem all to be bare. " He never stopped in the hedge at 

 all," says one. " Yes he did. He doubled down to the right." 

 " He climbed up into the middle." " Hark, there ! I heard him 

 flutter." " You make such a confounded row with your argu- 

 mentation ; no one can hear anything." " There he goes ! " 

 "No; that's Sandy." "I see him now." "To the left!" 

 " Keep him back." " Cut him off." And so the chase goes on. 

 Lady Macbeth, or Ruby, sits quietest of all on the commanding 



