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The Hen Harrier: Destructiveness to game; Female of — Trapping — The
Sparrowhawk: Courage of; Ferocity; Nest — The Kestrel: Utility of — The
Merlin: Boldness — The Hobby — Increase of small
Birds.
IN the autumn my partridges
suffer much from the hen-harrier. As soon as the corn is cut this bird
appears, and hunts the whole of the low country in the most determined and
systematic manner. The hen-harrier, either on the hill-side or in the
turnip-field, is a most destructive hunter. Flying at the height of only a
few feet from the ground, he quarters the ground as regularly as an old
pointer, crossing the field in every direction; nor does he waste time in
hunting useless ground, but tries turnip-field after turnipfield, and
rushy field after rushy field, passing quickly over the more open ground,
where he thinks his game is not so likely to be found. The moment he sees
a bird, the hawk darts rapidly to a height of about twenty feet, hovers
for a moment, and then comes down with unerring aim on his victim,
striking dead with a single blow partridge or pheasant, grouse or
black-cock, and showing a strength not to be expected from his light
figure and slender though sharp talons.
I saw on a hill-side in
Ross-shire a hen-harrier strike a heath hen. I instantly drove him away,
but too late, as the head of the bird was cut as clean off by the single
stroke as if done with a knife. On another day, when passing over the hill
in the spring, I was attended by a hen-harrier for some time, who struck
down and killed two hen grouse that I had put up. Both these birds I
contrived to take from him; but a third grouse rose, and was killed and
carried off over the brow of a hill before I could get up to him. There is
no bird more difficult to shoot than this. Hunting always in the open
country, though appearing intent on nothing but his game, the wary bird,
with an instinctive knowledge of the range of shot, will keep always just
out of reach, and frequently carry off before your very face the partridge
you have flushed, and perhaps wounded.
There is a diversity of
opinion whether the hawk commonly called the ringtail is the female of the
hen-harrier. I have, however, no doubt at all on the subject. The ringtail
is nothing more than the female or young bird. The male does not put on
his blue and white plumage till he is a year old. I have frequently found
the nest both on the mountain, where they build in a patch of rough
heather, generally by the side of a burn, and also in a furze-bush. Though
very destructive to grouse and other game, this bird has one redeeming
quality, which is, that he is a most skilful rat-catcher. Skimming
silently and rapidly through a rick-yard, he seizes on any incautious rat
who may be exposed to view; and from the habit this hawk has of hunting
very late in the evening, many of these vermin fall to his share. Though
of so small and light a frame, the hen-harrier strikes down a mallard
without difficulty; and the marsh and swamp are his favourite
hunting-grounds. Quick enough to catch a snipe, and strong enough to kill
a mallard, nothing escapes him. Although so courageous in pursuit of game,
he is a wild, untamable bird in captivity; and though I have sometimes endeavoured to tame one, I could never succeed in rendering him at all
familiar. As he disdains to eat any animal not killed by himself, he is a
very difficult bird to trap. The best chance of catching him is in what is
called a pole-trap, placed on a high post in the middle of an open part of
the country; for this hawk has (in common with many others) the habit of
perching on upright railings and posts, particularly as in the open
plains, where he principally hunts, there are but few trees, and he seldom
perches on the ground. His flight is leisurely and slow when searching for
game; but his dart, when he has discovered his prey, is inconceivably
rapid and certain.
There is another most
destructive kind of hawk who frequently pays us a visit—the sparrowhawk.
Not content with the partridges and other ferae naturae, this bold little
freebooter invades the poultry-yard rather too frequently. The hens
scream, the ducks quack, and rush to the cover of the plantations; whilst
the tame pigeons dart to and fro amongst the buildings, but in vain. The
sparrowhawk darts like an arrow after one of the latter birds, and carries
it off, though the pigeon is twice or three times his own weight. The
woman who takes care of the poultry runs out, but is too late to see
anything more than a cloud of white feathers, marking the place where the
unfortunate pigeon was struck. Its remains are, however, generally found
at some little distance; and when this is the case, the hawk is sure to
be caught, as he invariably returns to what he has left, and my boys bring
the robber to me in triumph before many days elapse. Sometimes he returns
the same day to finish picking the bones of the bird, but often does not
come back for two or three. In the meantime, whatever part of the pigeon
he has left is pegged to the ground, and two or three rat-traps are set
round it, into one of which he always contrives to step. When caught,
instead of seeming frightened, he flies courageously at the hand put down
to pick him up, and fights with beak and talons to the last. Occasionally,
when standing still amongst the trees, or even when passing the corner of
the house, I have been startled by a sparrowhawk gliding rapidly past me.
Once one came so close to me, that his wing actually brushed my arm; the
hawk being in full pursuit of an unfortunate blackbird. On another
occasion, a sparrow-hawk pursued a pigeon through the drawing-room window,
and out at the other end of the house through another window, and never
slackened his pursuit, notwithstanding the clattering of the broken glass
of the two windows they passed through. But the most extraordinary
instance of impudence in this bird that I ever met with, was one day
finding a sparrowhawk deliberately standing on a very large pouter-pigeon
on the drawing-room floor, and plucking it, having entered in pursuit of
the unfortunate bird through an open window, and killed him in the room.
The sparrowhawk sometimes
builds on rocks, and sometimes in trees. Like all rapacious birds, he is
most destructive during the breeding-season. I have found a great quantity
of remains of partridges, wood-pigeons, and small birds about their nests,
though it has puzzled me to understand how so small a bird can convey a
wood-pigeon to its young ones. There is more difference in size between
the male and female sparrowhawk than between the different sexes of any
other birds of the hawk kind, the cock bird being not nearly so large or
powerful a bird as the hen. Supposing either male or female sparrowhawk to
be killed during the time of incubation, the survivor immediately finds a
new mate, who goes on with the duties of the lost bird, whatever stage of
the business is being carried on at the time, whether sitting on the eggs
or rearing the young.
The kestrel breeds commonly
with us about the banks of the river, or in an old crow's nest. This is a
very beautifully marked hawk, and I believe does much more good than harm.
Though occasionally depriving us of some of our lesser singing birds, this
hawk feeds principally, and indeed almost wholly, on mice. Any person who
knows a kestrel-hawk by sight must have constantly observed them hovering
nearly stationary in the air above a grass-field, watching for the exit
from its hole of some unfortunate field-mouse. When feeding their young, a
pair of kestrels destroy an immense number of these mischievous little
quadrupeds, which are evidently the favourite food of these birds. Being
convinced of their great utility in this respect, I never shoot at or
disturb a kestrel. It is impossible, however, to persuade a gamekeeper
that any bird called a hawk can be harmless; much less can one persuade
so opinionated and conceited a personage (as most keepers are) that a hawk
can be useful; therefore the poor kestrel generally occupies a prominent
place amongst the rows of bipeds and quadrupeds nailed on the kennel, or
wherever else those trophies of his skill are exhibited. It is a timid and
shy kind of hawk, and therefore very difficult to tame, never having an
appearance of contentment or confidence in its master when kept in
captivity.
Another beautiful little
hawk is common here in the winter, the merlin. This bird visits us about
October, and leaves us in the spring. Scarcely larger than a thrush, the
courageous little fellow glides with the rapidity of thought on blackbird
or field-fare, sometimes even on the partridges, and striking his game on
the back of the head, kills it at a single blow. The merlin is a very bold
bird, and seems afraid of nothing. I one day winged one as he was passing
over my head at a great height. The little fellow, small as he was, flung
himself on his back when I went to pick him up, and gave battle most
furiously, darting out his talons (which are as sharp and hard as needles)
at everything that approached him. We took him home, however, and I put
him into the walled garden, where he lived for more than a year. He very
soon became quite tame, and came on being called to receive his food,
which consisted of birds, mice, etc. So fearless was he, that he flew
instantly at the largest kind of sea-gull or crow that we gave him. When
hungry, and no other food was at hand, he would attend the gardener when
digging, and swallow the large earthworms as they were turned up. To my
great regret, we found the little bird lying dead under the tree in which
he usually roosted; and though I examined him carefully, I could not find
out the cause of his death.
Although all these small
hawks which frequent this country destroy a certain quantity of game,
their principal food consists of thrushes, blackbirds, and other small
birds. In the winter, when the greenfinches collect in large flocks on the
stubble fields, I have frequently seen the merlin or sparrowhawk suddenly
glide round the angle of some hedgerow or plantation, and taking up a bird
from the middle of the flock, carry it off almost before his presence is
observed by the rest of the greenfinches.
Sometimes two merlins hunt
together, and, as it were, course a lark, or even swallow, in the air, the
two hawks assisting each other in the most systematic manner. First one
hawk chases the unfortunate bird for a short time, while his companion
hovers quietly at hand; in a minute or so, the latter relieves his
fellow-hunter, who in his turn rests. In this way they soon tire out the
lark or swallow; and catching the poor bird in mid-air, one of the hawks
flies away with him, leaving his companion to hunt alone till his return
from feeding their young brood.
The hobby, a beautiful
little hawk, like a miniature peregrine falcon, is not very common here,
though I have occasionally killed it. This kind of hawk leaves us before
the winter. I have seen its nest in a fir or larch tree; but they seem to
be very rare here. A strong courageous bird, the hobby attacks and preys
on pigeons and partridges, though so much larger than himself.
Since the introduction of
English traps and keepers, all birds of prey are gradually decreasing in
this country, whilst blackbirds, thrushes, and other singing birds
increase most rapidly. In the highland districts of Moray, where a few
years back a blackbird or thrush was rather a rare bird, owing to the
skill and perseverance of gamekeepers and vermin-trappers in exterminating
their enemies, they now abound, devastating our fruit-gardens, but amply
repaying all the mischief they do by enlivening every glade and grove with
their joyous songs. This year (1846) the thrushes and blackbirds were in
full voice in January, owing to the mildness of the winter; and I knew of
a thrush who was sitting on eggs during the most severe storm of snow that
we have had the whole season.
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