Daily Camera

FALCONRY IS THE FAD
The Famous Old Sport Revived in the East.
It Promises to Become a Greater Fad Than Golf—Intense Excitement of Hunting with Trained Hawks.

What strange fascination men can find in the old sport of falconry, that cruel swoop of a fierce monarch of the air on the track of a bird whose only safety lies in flight, is a mystery to those whose knowledge of the pastime is limited to what they have read about it in old books. Sportsmen who have taken to this method of capturing game birds declare that this is the essence of exciting sport: They argue that the man who goes shooting with a modern breech-loader may kill more birds, but he has only the satisfaction of knowing that he has trained himself to be expert in the killing process, while the falconer has educated one of the wildest and most unlikely creatures in existence to obey his will and kill as he directs. Besides, say the falconers, what is the shooting of a bird on the wing compared with the exciting spectacle of a falcon swooping with lightning-like swiftness on a partridge that is speeding for all its wings are worth to get away.

Whatever its opponents may say, certain it is that the sport of falconry, the noble old sport that has been sung about by ancient poets and pictured on numberless canvases by famous painters, is becoming a fashionable country pastime, whose followers are as enthusiastic over their favorite amusement as ever was a golf crank or yachting fiend. It is essentially a cruel sport, but no sport that has for its ultimate object the killing of a bird or animal can be considered humane, and the death of a quarry by the talons of a hawk is probably as painless an end as being killed by a rifle shot.

A party of falconers will start from the country house at which the meet takes place with half a dozen or more hawks, carried on the cadge, a wooden frame, on which they are transported to the field. The birds are hooded. The hoods are of silver, and the tuft enables the owner to readily single out his bird from others. When the moment for action comes the falcon is taken from the cadge and carried on the gloved hand of the falconer, ready to be freed at any instant for the flight after the game. When the covey is reached the falcon is relieved of its swivel, hood and leash and released. She will dart up in the air and wait there until the quarry is sighted, circling round and round the spot where she has been released. When it is seen that the falcon is ready, a rush is made by the falconers and the dogs that accompany the party to the spot where the covey of partridges has been located.

Up rise the frightened birds, and, seeing their enemy, the falcon, waiting to seize them above, while unknown dangers confront them below, the birds wing their way forward, bent on escaping. It must be a fast-flying partridge that can outstrip the falcon in a race. The old and crafty birds of the covey know this well, and their tactics are to head for the densest bushes and seek safety in concealment. The falcon, with a similarly active instinct, singles out a young bird that has sense enough only to fly blindly on in hope of its wing saving it from the falcon's foot. It is usually a short race. With a swoop that the falconer who is an enthusiast watches and admires, as the angler does the expert's cast of a line, or the yachting man the swift sweep of a boat in a race, the hawk is down on the partridge, picking it up with her foot, and carrying it off to a place of safety where it can gorge at ease on the prize. Sometimes, as a reward for clever work, the falcon is allowed to continue its meal, but if other work is required of it the dead bird is added to the bag of the party and the hunt is resumed.

When the next covey is reached another bird is allowed to show his prowess. Rarely will a bird kill more than one bird out of a covey, a point that the falconers use in answering their critics who assert that the sport is a cruel one, for say the falconers: "We get a great deal more sport than the man who shoots birds, with less killing than he considers necessary to a successful day." But occasionally a bird will kill two partridges from the same covey. This was a feat accomplished by Black Lady recently, when, after killing one bird, she was after another like a flash. The second one she was eating when the falconers come upon her. The first was caught by the dogs, the blow of Black Lady having broken one of its wings.

A good day's sport with trained birds will result in the bagging of a dozen partridges, not much of a result from a hunter's point of view, but still a bag of comfortable proportions. Cincinnati Enquirer.