2l8
THE ESSEX FIELD CLUB.
the land of stately palms and the shady mango-tree, where Nature still reigns
supreme, and countless myriads of feathered game seem to exist but for the grati-
fication of the ardent sportsman—that I would carry my hearers.
There will be found the "Shah Baz," and the "Bhyree," the former identical
with four Goshawk (Astur palumbarius), the latter our Peregrine Falcon (Falco
peregrinus); while the "Morosani," "Douraye," and the "Basha" are the only
other hawks used out there that are known to English falconers—the "Moro-
sani," being the Hobby (F. subbuteo), the "Douraye," the Merlin (F. aesalon),
and the "Basha," the English Sparrow-hawk (Accipiter nisus).
Besides the above, the Indian falconer can obtain the "Cherrug"—English
"Saker" (F. sacer), the "Lugger" (F. jugger), the "Trumti," the "Shikra," and
last, but by no means least, the much-prized "Shahin." This beautiful little
falcon—a specimen of which sits on the block on the lawn yonder—seems to be a
first cousin to the peregrine, and divides with it the honour of being par excel-
lence the "duck hawk." Often and often have I seen and watched wild fowl on
a "jheel" (tank of water), when either a "cherrug," or a "lugger" has been on
the wing, and been amused at the contemptuous way in which the ducks go
on feeding, as if the falcon overhead were their dearest friend, for they know,
instinctively, that no "lugger" nor "cherrug" has ever flown that could cut
down the gay-plumaged mallard, or its smaller half-brother, the teal, in open
flight.
But let us return to this same "jheel" another day. There are the duck and
teal, quietly feeding in the open, and safe in the knowledge that they are just
beyond reach of the pellets from the longest ranged guns of the sporting subaltern
from the neighbouring cantonments. All at once an old mallard looks up, utters
a note of terror—half scream, half quack—and in a moment the erst peaceful
scene becomes one of wildest confusion, as every duck on the water makes the
best of its way, with outstretched head and flapping wings, to the edging of reeds
and sedge that skirts the "jheel." And well they may, for there, high up in the
clear azure of a cloudless Indian sky, you can just distinguish a speck—so small
that you think it must be a gnat you see—but no ! it gets larger and larger, and
well-nigh before you have realized what is going to happen, you are aware of
a lightning flash of metallic blue, and the falcon has struck down that last duck that
just hesitated a minute ere it took advantage of the old mallard's warning note.
The falcon proceeds to feed on the bank yonder, and if you are in want of a
good peregrine, or "shahin," now is your chance. You walk cautiously up to where
the falcon has killed—and she will let you get up to within 15 or 20 yards before
she flies off and takes perch on the nearest tree, indignantly looking at the robber
who has balked her of her meal. You peg the duck firmly down to the ground,
with a couple of limed twigs placed thus (shows), and retire as expeditiously as
possible. Often before you have gone 20 yards the falcon, seeing you retire,
stoops at her dinner, and, coming in contact with the limed twigs, gets caught
and falls helplessly to the ground. And here I may remark that this birdlime is
prepared by the natives from the inner bark of the "peepul" tree (the Ficus
religiosa), and is far more effective than any that can be obtained in England.
Now, having snared the falcon, you run up, and heedless of bites and scratches,
secure your prize. Your native falconer, who has probably followed you, produces
his "seeling" needles, and the falcon is then and there "seeled," i.e., a piece of
sewing cotton is passed through the lower eyelid of each eye, and brought up over
the head and tied, so that the hawk for the time being is completely blind-folded.