THE ESSEX FIELD CLUB.
209
threshing-floor, we were able to speak and hear without at all disturbing the sleek
draught horses stalled at the other extremity. The wide open barn doors faced
by the audience were the frame to a lovely pastoral scene—green meadows sloping
gently down to stately oaks, elms, and willows in the hollow ; waving cornfields
ascending beyond to the horizon ; and over all a summer sky upon which an
ominous thunder-cloud was intruding. The twitter of small birds mingled with
the applause with which the speakers were received." Around the pillars of the
barn had been hung several old engravings of hawking scenes, and modern
paintings of favourite falcons from the skilful brush of Mr. George Lodge (who
was present), as well as illustrative diagrams and specimens of falconer's furniture.
At the commencement of the proceedings an Ordinary Meeting of the Club
(the 92nd) was held, Mr. E. A. Fitch, President, in the chair. Messrs. H. J.
Coburn and James Rippin were elected members. After a few observations
from the Chairman, he called upon Mr. Mann to give his promised address
upon :—
Modern Falconry.
[In order to avoid any obscurity in the address and discussion thereon, occa-
sioned by the use of technical words, Mr. Mann had a paper printed containing
a glossary of the principal terms of the falconer's art, a copy of which was given
to each member of the party. This glossary, with a few additions, is printed at
the end of the address. In his opening observations Mr. Mann gave a short
sketch of Falconry as it was practised centuries ago, and alluded to the value
then set on trained falcons, and the special enactments passed to prevent their
destruction. He then continued as follows :—]
Even so late as 1697 the law protected hawks' eggs, and any person convicted
of taking or destroying them was liable to "a year and a day's imprisonment,
and to incur a fine at the King's pleasure, to be divided between the King and
the owner of the soil." Now, alas, the fate of the hawk is to be nailed with its
fellows to the keeper's pole as flying vermin ; or, sadder still, to be consigned to
the tender care of the local "naturalist," who literally stuffs as much tow into
the poor bird's skin as it can hold, and then labels it a "Peregrine," which noble
bird the "specimen" in its "preserved" stage no more resembles than it does a
pouter pigeon.
The Enclosure Acts and the introduction of the breech-loader, combined with
the insatiable greed of so-called "game preservers," have almost abolished the
grand old sport; whenever a tame pheasant is missed from the coop a hawk is
credited with the loss, and another excuse for killing off all hawks is claimed by the
gamekeeper. I admit that a sparrow-hawk will sometimes take a few pheasants
and partridges when they are young, but the number is trifling. Another matter
for deep regret in connection with modern game-preserving is the war waged
against owls. I have frequently done my best to prove to a keeper the nature of
owls' food, by taking the castings from below their nests and soaking the masses
in warm water ; the bones are then easily separated from the felt or feathers, thus
demonstrating that mice, young rats, and small birds, have been the sole food of
the denounced owl. But I fear that even this ocular demonstration failed to
convince "Velveteens" of his folly, and of the important part these birds of the
night play in the preservation of the balance of nature.
Many owners and keepers look with fear to the result of a day's hawking over
an estate, but I am glad to say that in this I have convinced some of their error.
Close to where I now am is a large field in which Alfred Frost, my falconer,
P