bers of the species frequented the wilderness, the edges of the desert, and the mountains, the insect eaters followed cultivated fields and gardens, growing more friendly with man and with each other. One kestrel, which the Arabs always distinguished from the others, was small and of brilliant color. It summered with them, and wintered in Africa. Because it was absent half the year is no doubt the reason it was first especially noticed. It was friendly to its kind and to men, and, as it ate insects mostly, was welcomed into grain fields, gardens, all around villages, and the suburbs of cities. It was distinguished by its white claws, coloring, size, and habits. It nested in hollow trees, bringing off larger broods than the great hawks, and feeding almost entirely on grasshoppers, moths, and palmerworms. Occasionally it helped itself to a sparrow, and its larger relatives near the fruit orchards and olive yards took a dove or pigeon; but as men used so many of these for food and sacrifice, it seems no more than fair that the birds should have their share also. The Revised Version changes the vulture to the falcon in the description of a mine in the twentyeighth chapter of Job. I do not agree with the change. The falcons have keen eyes, as do all hawks and eagles; but I always have thought of the vulture in connection with this passage, and believe it to be the bird intended. The description of the appearance and habit of these kestrels makes me sure they were similar to our beautiful and interesting little dusky falcon, that is of the same location, habit, and color description. In all time these birds have been very friendly with man, and if taken from a nest and trained a little, will become thoroughly domesticated, and make beautiful and very intelligent pets. These are the birds that were educated for the sport of hawking in early England. They rode to the field on the wrist or saddle-pommel of the owner, and were released at the sight of pigeon, dove, lark, or any bird they were capable of taking; the sport being to watch the capture and recovery of the wild bird. Sometimes two hawks were released to pursue the prey, and the owners made wagers as to whose bird would win. I know one falcon of this family taken from a nest and raised by hand, that became perfectly tame from the beginning, and now flies and retrieves to order and perches on the head of a hunting dog with no more concern than its relatives, flying all around and sitting on the dead limb of any tree. There are touches of white and black on its plumage, a bright rusty red on its crown and wings, and strong steel blue in shadings over it. The feet and beak are white, and its soft eyes have that wonderful look of intelligence of all hawks. Because we have trained the crow, and become so well acquainted with him, we usually credit him with having the most highly developed brain of any bird. But I think, from the appearance of large wisdom to be found in the face and eyes of a hawk, that if we had spent one-half the time studying and developing it that we have the crow, we should find that this bird would respond to teaching much quicker, and be far more intelligent than the crow. There is something in the face of a great hawk seen at close range of which, I confess, I stand in awe. To me these birds are typical of the wonder and majesty of the Almighty. Who knows what they see when they range beyond our vision? Who knows what they feel when they soar in cloud spaces? By whose wisdom do they fly, if not by the wisdom of the Almighty? Then, who are we, and who gave us power to tamper with the scheme of creation? And when will we learn that we will pay dearly if we do? Did you ever stop to consider that it is invariably the weakling of a flock that a hawk secures? There is almost always an alarm from some source, and the strongest make for cover and escape; so if the hawk captures any prey, it is the weak and helpless. Recently I was told by Gilbert Pearson, who knows as much as any other one man concerning the sea and coast birds, that hawks were preying upon the pheasant hatcheries of a certain producer of these birds. He furnished arms and ammunition, and offered a reward for hawk scalps in his community. One season saw the last of the great birds come swirling to earth. The next, no hawks visited the location. By the third year the weakling pheasants that the hawks would have carried away had dragged out a sickly existence, bred, and intermingled with the strong birds. The pest came, and by the thousand sick and well died together, until the man saw his error. The last I heard of him he was praying for some good, strong hawks to come his way and restore the force of the balance of nature. There is an old proverb, "Let well enough alone," that is good to apply in this case. Because a hawk takes a few young chickens, ducks, turkeys, or doves, a farmer ruthlessly will shoot every hawklike bird in range, and thus in his ignorance he will destroy birds that catch fifty moles and mice from his fields to every chicken they take from the orchard. There is no way in which to estimate the number of grasshoppers, locusts, and insect plagues that a half dozen falcon families will carry from a grain field or meadow to a brood of young in a season: but because they appear like hawks they, too, are killed. The hawk has the most comprehensive bird face I know. It is not so ferocious as the eagle, and is far more intelligent. With its deep-set eyes and overshadowing brow the eagle appears inexorable, a perfect picture of savagery. Larger eyes, more prominently set, give to the face of the hawk less ferocity and more intelligence. The longer I study hawk faces and history, the more firmly I become convinced that these birds fly by the wisdom of the Almighty, and we suffer the penalty if we interfere. |