Oct. 38, 1886.J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



26S 



marked absence of useless poetry or prose descriptive of the 

 fishermen's surroundings. There is no "verbiage" about the 

 Advertiser's fish stories, and possibly Mr. F. will find in 

 that paper what he longs for; still there are fishermen whom 

 the Actoertiser does not wholly satisfy, excellent paper 

 though it be. 



I lately stood on a wharf in Boston watching the return of 

 a fishing party, and I'll warrant that there was not one of 

 the party but would have rated "Kingfisher's" most excellent 

 letter a waste of ink. The scribe of the party stood by the 

 hatch of the vessel Avith a board and piece of chalk, taking 

 notes, and when the last fin had been thrown into a truclc 



with a pitchfork, the scribe remarked: " pounds, three 



and one-half cents for the cod and no sale for the dabs. 

 Blank my skin; it don't pay for the ice!" The report was 

 concise without many unnecessary words; no attempt at 

 oratory to describe the spangled blue or other sky; no refer- 

 ence to the glorious sun or silver moon; it was straight 

 business without any frills. But most anglers would derive 

 moi-e satisfaction from one paragraph of "Kingfisher's" 

 graphic letters which so trnthiuUy portray the beauties and 

 the varied changes of the woods and the waters, which 

 never grow old and are part and parcel of an outing, than 

 they would to have the whole fare of a "banker" dumped on 

 their back porch. A. N. Chejtet. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I notice it. Mu.st we have a streak of midsummer madness 

 to disturb our souls? Here is a correspondent bent on fly- 

 ing the fraternity because, perliaps, he never goes a-fishmg. 

 Were he in earnest in his criticism he would be an ob,iect of 

 connniseration. For, the root of the matter is one of literary 

 taste. To clothe one's thoughts in proper garb is the aim of 

 the orator, the historian and the poet. As is their .success in 

 this, so is the reputation which the world accords them. 



Does iMr. F. prefer that iusteod of "Now fades the glimmer- 

 ing landscape on the sight," G-ray should have said, "it 

 was getting- dark," or that "Now rose above the mountains 

 the cold moon's silvery shield," should have been supplanted 

 by "die moon came lip," or does he ask the Forest A>ri) 

 Stream to publish a fish ledgerF 



If "Kingfisher" "got up early and beheld beautiful scen- 

 ery," why should he not record the fact in fitting words? 

 Must there be "no more cakes and ale" beca,use some Illinois 

 man is bilious? Brevity may be the soul of wit, but cer- 

 tainly it is not so of angling, camping and hunting descrip- 

 tions. The more we have of the latter the better. We live 

 over our outings in all then- fullness when we know that the 

 dew sparkled on the grass and the moonbeams shimmered 

 on tents for other eyes as well as ours, that our ears were not 

 the only ones that drank in the sad wail of the loon and the 

 rustle of the night wind among the pines. To some a Sahara 

 may be as beautiful as a Tempe, but they are not of our 

 canny kin. Nature never grows old. Her lover sees no mark 

 of years on her face, and he who ti-aces her beauties on paper, 

 though it be for the thousandth time, gives us of the outing 

 craft something to admire and love. 



"Kingfisher," here's my hand; put it there, old man. 



WAWATAJfDA. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



Your critical correspondent ought to have had a chance at 

 "Sunset" Cox years ago when he wrote that famous de- 

 scription of a sunset and printed it in the Columbus Ohio 

 Statesman, of which he was at the time editor. I send you 

 a copy of that "sunburst" taken from my scrap-book. I)oes 

 not the snnri se description in the • ' Camps" entitle th eir author 

 to be known as "Sunrise Kingfisher?" Here is the "Sunset" 

 picture: 



"What a peculiar sunset was that last nightl How glori- 

 ous the storm and how splendid the setting of the sun!" We 

 do not remember ever to have seen the like on our round 

 globe. The scene opened in the west with a horizon full of 

 golden, impenetrating lustre, which colored the foliage and 

 brightened evei-y object into its own dyes. The colors grow 

 richer and deeper until the golden lustre is transfused into 

 a storm cloud, full of the finest lightnings, which leaped 

 into dazzling zigzags all over and around the city. The 

 wind arose with fuiy, the slender shrubs and giant trees 

 made obeisance to its majesty. Some even snapped before its 

 force. The straAvberry beds and grass plants 'turned up their 

 whites' to see Zephyrus march by. As the rain came a nd the 

 pools and gutters hurried away, thunder roared grandly, and 

 the fire bells caught the excitement and rang with hearty 

 chorus. The south and east received the copious showers, 

 and the west all at once brightened up in a long, polished 

 belt of azure worthy of a Sicilian sky. 



"Presently a cloud appeared in the azure belt in the form 

 of a castelated city. It became more vivid, revealing strange 

 forms of peerless fanes and alabaster glories rare and grand 

 in this mundane sphere. It reminded us of Wadsworth's 

 splendid verse in his 'Excursion': 



The appearance instantaneously disclosed 



Was o' a mighty city, boldly say 



A wilderness of buildings, sinking far 



And self withdrawn into a wondrous depth 



Far siuiing into splendor without end. 

 "But the city vanished only to give place to another isle, 

 where the most beautiful forms of foliage appeared imaging 

 a paradise in the distant and purified air. 



"The sun, v>'earied by the elemental commotion, sank be- 

 hind the green plains of the west. The 'great ej^e in heaven,' 

 however, went down without a dark brow hanging over its 

 departing light. The rich flush of unearthly Tight had 

 passed and the rain had ceased, when the solemn church 

 bells pealed; the laughter of children out and joyous after 

 the storm is heard ^vith the carol of birds, while the dark 

 and purple weapon of the skies still darted illumination 

 around the starling college, trying to rival its angels and 

 leap into its dark -(vindow. " 



Or— as your critic would have put it tersely and better- 

 there was right smart of a shower. Meat-Hawk. 



FLASH. — The writer of the following is known to us, and 

 the incidents are vouched for; they were first printed in the 

 Winthrop (Me.) Budget: Dr. C. A. Packard, of Bath, owns 

 a fine pointer dog named FIash, who, though not ha%ing had 

 a special training or attained high rank in any dog college, 

 is remarkably intelligent. He has long been in the habit of 

 accompanying the doctor on his professional visits, some- 

 times dashing through the streets crowded with carriages at 

 great speed. One day his foot, or rather a toe of one foot 

 was caught under a wheel, in consequence of which the claw 

 commenced to grow out. and became exceedingly painful. 

 The doctor examined the wound and remarked to' him in a 

 business way, "l think. Flash, you'll be obliged to have that 

 claw cut off. ' ' The dog, who was lying on the floor, looked up 

 knowingly and wagged his tail. A day or two after— the 

 dog sulfermg a great deal, and lame— followed his master 

 into the office, and deliberately placed the wounded toe upon 

 the doctor's knee, and submitted to a very painful surgical 

 operation without a twdnge. Not long after this incident, one 

 day Dr. P. was surprised to see Flash come into his office 

 with a small black cur following him. To engage his mas- 

 ter's attention he would rush up to him and look up into his 

 face, tlien go toward the cur, rush back again and do the 

 same thing over again, until the doctor examined the cur 

 and found he had been wounded in some manner, and the 

 wound was still bleeding. The fact was plain that Flash had 

 induced his dog acquaintance by some means known only in 

 dog language, to ga with him to his master's office and have 

 the wound promptly attended to, which the doctor did. and 

 he left happy. 



Addi-css aU communicatio7iis to the Forest and Stream Pub. Co. 



THE SPORT OF HAWKING. 

 II. — The Peregrine Falcon. — Concluded. 



THE wild-caught hawk having now learned to sit 

 qixietly on the falconer's wist and to know his voice 

 and whistle, the next step in her training is to change the 

 rufter hood for the hood proper. The latter differs from 

 the taming hood in being made of rather stiff, strong calf 

 skin, and is of a somewhat different shape from the rufter 

 hood. Fig, 3 represents a serviceable field hood. The 

 pattern is somewhat the same as that given for the rufter 

 hood, or it may be made of three pieces, as indicated in 

 the drawing. But the orifice for the beak is square in- 

 stead of triangular; the sides of the cap well bulged out 

 over the eyes of the hawk, and the V-shaped opening be- 

 hind is much wider than in the rufter, so as to permit of 

 the hood being easily slipped on and off. This piece of 

 hawk harness is forrned over a block cut to rudely repre- 

 sent the liead of a falcon, but more prominent about the 

 eyes; the leather is soaked in water after having been 

 artly sewn together, and is then modeled over this "lay 

 giu-e" to the proper shape. A loop of leather (see cut) 

 should be sewn on the top of the hood to lift it by, or a 

 plume of bright featliers may be substituted. The plume 

 is generally used on hoods hy European falconers, but the 

 strap will be foimd much more handy and durable, if less 

 ornamental than the feathers. The lacing is usually a 

 strip of soft leather playing freely tlirough four holes in 

 the back of the hood, as shown in the illustration. 



The hoods sliould be changed in a room made as dark as 

 it is possible to see to work in, and if the hawk be very 

 restless it is well to brail one of his wings, or even to soak 



PIG. 1. — ^HEAD OF PEREGEINE FALCON. 



the bird with w^ater squeezed from a sponge held at a dis- 

 tance of a few feet above him, so as to add a shglit shock 

 to the wetting. The change should be made when the 

 stomach of the falcon is empty, or he may be injured by 

 his straggles. It is well to give only a slight feed in the 

 morning, and to change the hoods in the afternoon. 

 After the change the falcon is carried aroimd as before, 

 being frequently stroked with a feather, and fed through 

 the hood. The next day feed the peregrine by dim candle 

 light, and after he has begun to pull greedily through tlie 

 cap, slip it off and allow him to continue his meal un- 

 hooded; slip the hood on again just before the meat is 

 finished, allowing the hawk to complete eating it thi-ougli 

 the beak opening. The following day the hood may be 

 removed twice in the above manner, 'a little more light 

 being admitted; and so on until at the end of a week or 

 so the falcon will feed in bright sunlight without the 

 hood, and permit himself to be hooded and unliooded 

 without opposition. The hawk is now said to be broken 

 to the hood. The haggard must now be accustomed to 



FIG. 2. — FIELD HOOD. 



the presence of sti-angers, horses and dogs; this must be 

 done gi-aduallv, and great care must be taken that he is 

 not frightened or teased, or fed by any one but yourself 

 and at regular hours. 



The next lesson is to teach the falcon to jump to the 

 wi-ist when called. All this while the whistle has been 

 sounded, together with the shout you intend to use to call 

 the hawk in the hunting field, at every meal, and the 

 bird has been constantly fed from the hand. It is seldom 

 difficult therefore to get the haggard to jump at first a 

 foot or two from his perch to your wrist for a choice feed 

 of meat held in your hand. Keep this up, gi-aduallv 

 lengthening the distance until the hawk readily flies the 

 length of the room to your fist when called. 



The bird should now- be carried into the open air by an 

 assistant, a long light cord, called a creance, being "^tied 

 to his leash. After unhooding the haggard go ten yards 

 away and call him, displaying at the same time a tempt- 

 ing piece of meat; he will jjrobably fly to you, the assist- 

 ant, of com-se, keeping firm hold of the end of the creance 

 for safety. If the hawk does not come to you, go nearer, 

 and keep this up until the falcon comes readily 50yds. or 

 more to your call. 



It is now time to allow the haggard castings occa- 

 sionally. A whole dead bu-d is given, and the hawk 

 allowed to swallow as much bone and feather as he de- 

 sires. These in the course of a few hours are oast up 



from the bird's crop in an oval mass. If the falcon is 

 healthy they have no odor, and contain no half -digested 

 food, as is often the case with badly conditioned birds. 

 The peregrine is now kept on a block in a shed, but 

 which, when the hawk is perfectly trained, is to be fre- 

 quently can-ied out on to the lawn on bright days; it is 

 generally several months, however, before wild-cai7ght 

 hawks can be trusted imhooded in the open air alone. 



The block is a sugarloaf -shaped bloclj of wood, some- 

 what flattened at the top, Avhere it measures about Sin. 

 across; the base should be broad so that it may stand firm. A 

 ring is let in flush wnth the top for convenience in carriage, 

 and another ring is screwed to the side, to which the leash of 

 the falcon is tied when at rest. The block should be sur- 

 rounded by a circle of fine sand several inches deep, which 

 will be f otmd very cleanly and convenient to clean 

 Ilawks must be protected from cold, damp winds at all 

 seasons, and in the winter are best kept in a darkened 

 room. They bate much less in a dark apartment and do not 

 injm-e their feathers by fluttering against the windows, etc. 

 Of course light is freely admittecl at feeding time and the 

 birds fed from the hand. A plain rounded perch of the 

 diameter of a man's \>Tist, supported at each end by 

 strong uprights and padded with canvas, also makes 

 an excellent but perhaps less convenient resting place 

 than the block. 



If you intend to use an artificial lure in the field, al- 

 though it is far less satisfactory in use than a living or 

 dead pigeon, now is the time to enter the falcon a"t it. 

 The artificial lure consists of a fork of hard wood, too 

 heavy for the hawk to carry, with lialf a dozen pigeon 

 wings firmly fastened to it. Cords are passed through 

 awl holes in the wood and a fi-esh piece of beefsteak tied 

 thereto. A dead pigeon lure is much to be pref eiTed with 

 wild-caught falcons. 



We will suppose the lure is a pigeon; carry the haggard 

 into the open air, kneel with her on the wrist, unhood 

 her and cast out the lure a few feet. When she jumps to 

 it let her eat a, portion from it, at the same time giving her 

 choice morsels of beef from your liand. Before the Im'e 

 is devoured decoy her to your wrist again by calling and 

 presenting a tempting morsel, and rehood her. Continue 

 this each day until the hawk feeds freely on the lure and 

 is not disttu-bed by the presence of strangers or dogs. She 

 is now trained to fly to the Im-e as well as to your wrist 

 from the arm of an assistant. This practice 'is kept up 

 daily , until the lately wild and savage falcon comes at 

 once to your call when held more than 50yds. away from 

 you. Leash and creance are now removed, the' jesses 

 and swivel alone remaining on the hawk's legs, together 

 with the bells, and she is called and lured until she wiU 

 dart to you or the lure fi-om the wi-ist of an attendant 

 1,000yds. distant, always being rewarded with the most 

 tempting piece of meat obtainable for her obedience. Do 

 not compel the hawk to make more than three or four 

 flights diu-ing a single meal, and when it is finished re- 

 hood and slip the leasli on to the jesses. 



The haggard is now taught to stoop at the hixe and to 

 "wait on." As she flies at the swinging liu-e snatch it 

 away and immediately thi-ow it out again, and allow her 

 to seize it as she turns to look for it "after its disappear- 

 ance. At fii-st this should be done only once, but later it 

 may be kept up until the hawk wdll stoop backward and 

 forward as often as desired. 



Now tie the haggard by the usual long creance and offer 

 her a living pigeon, one of whose wings has been braUed. 

 It is higlily probable that the fierce peregTine, who only 

 a month before killed perhaps a dozen ducks in a day 

 only for the sport of kiOing, may refuse it, and if so a 

 string must be tied to the leg of the pigeon, and it must 

 be pulled up by passing the cord through an eyed pin to 

 within a foot of the hawk's block. If she stiU refuse it 

 she must fu-st be entered at some spaiTows treated in the 

 same manner as the pigeon, and the pigeon must be tried 

 again after she has killed several sparrows. 

 _ Soon she may be allowed to take the brailed pigeons at 

 liberty, all her harness being removed save the bewits and 

 jesses, and finally she is flown at a strong, unbrailed 

 pigeon, to whose leg is tied a strong light cord. When 

 the hawk kills the pigeon run in and seize the trailing 

 end of this line. The falcon is thus trained not to "carry" 

 her quarry— a most tiresome habit in the field— as of 

 course you have it fast. Keep at creanced birds for sev- 

 eral weeks, in order that the hawk may be perfectly 

 trained not to cany, a habit to which all falconers have 

 found wild-caught hawks especially prone. 



The hawk is now ready to be entered at her quarry proper, 

 and haggards are best used for heavy game, too weighty 

 for them to hft. Ducks, grouse, and shore birds, crows 

 and herons are suitable game for an adult peregrine. A 

 powerful female might even take geese, swans or wild 

 tiu-keys. A few hving birds of the species at which it is 

 intended to first fly the falcon should be procured and 

 turned out before her, the first from the hand of the 

 falconer, with one of its wings securely brailed; and 

 finally the falcon must kill a strong, unhampered bird. 

 As soon as the fii-st bu-d is killed— indeed it is well to . 

 begin this practice while flying at creanced pigeons— the 

 falconer must approach and make much of the hawk 

 while he aUows her to feast on the first wild quarry, at 

 the same time giving her choice pieces of beef from the 

 hand. From her second and subsequent flights she must 

 be lured, and then called to the roost and given some 

 juicy mouthfuls. If she is not to be flown again that day 

 she should be fed up or given as much tender beef as she 

 cares to eat. The hawk is thus taught to believe that vou 

 take nothing from her, and also that she obtains from 

 you much more savory food than she can kill for herself, 

 all falcons preferring tender beef to the flesh of any bird. 

 The haggard is now ready to be entered at wild game, the 

 methods generally pm'sued hj falconers will be fully 

 described in a future paper. 



AVlien the peregrine is fii-st flown, either at the lure or 

 at pigeons, it is hardly necessary to say that she must 

 be sharp set, i. e. , very hungry, or she will certainly 

 indulge in the luxmy of a sjiil before coming to you, and 

 you may lose her altogether. If properly handled there 

 is little or no danger of losing a hawk during its training, 

 as it will assuredly come to you when hungry if properly 

 trained. 



While the haggard is flying at pigeons it -will frequently 

 happen that the quarry dashes into a clump of bushes or a 

 hedge just in time to escape the stoop of the hawk. Make 

 haste to serve the falcon, i. e., to drive the pigeon out of 

 cover, making a great noise and hullabaloo over it. Have 

 a pigeon in a bag net at your belt, from one of whose 

 wings three or four of the long feathers have been pulled , 



