# Littell's Living Age/Volume 148/Issue 1918/Hawk-Catching in Holland

The plain of Valkensvaard is not so celebrated in story as those of Châlons, Waterloo, or Marathon; and yet for many centuries it was better known and regarded with greater interest, throughout the west of Europe than any battle-field in the world. For here it was — upon the great "Falcons' Field" of Brabant — that the hawks were caught every year to supply the wants of the most noted sportsmen of the day. Kings, princes, and potentates sent hither their falconers, charged to select and purchase, and carry back to their several countries, the falcons that might be caught; and high indeed were the prices paid for the most likely-looking birds. No such assemblage now congregates annually in the rooms of the Falcon Inn. The poor little village has lost its great attraction, and descended from its high position to a level with its rustic neighbors. For all that the traveller who steams past it knows, it might never have been the falconer's autumn rendezvous, or the chief mart for the birds which in the Middle Ages were more valuable than horses or any other animal. There remain still, it is true, in the place itself a few traces of departed fame. The little inn, kept by a descendant of that great hawk-catching family, the Botts, is decorated profusely with drawings of hawks, and with a few stuffed specimens, set up in attitudes more natural than those in vogue at the museums. Its furniture, moreover, belying its humble exterior, betokens a wish to accommodate the grandee who occasionally came himself to see how his hawks were caught, and to pick and choose his own particular fancy amongst the string of captives. There is to be seen, moreover, at one end of the village, a long, low building — now degraded to farm purposes — where in the palmy days gone by, grand auctions were held of the hawks caught in the year. But by far the most interesting relic of the ancient régime is Adrien Mollen himself, formerly falconer to the Royal Heron-Hawking Club at Loo, and now sole representative of the hawk-catching industry which once furnished employment for a score of experts. He is an old man, but hale and hearty, tall and straight, with an eye as keen as one of his own falcons, and all the intelligence of manner which comes from the successful practice of a most difficult art. It is Adrien Mollen who has for years past supplied the "passage hawks" to most English and French falconers. They are caught in the months of October and November, on their passage to the south as they pass over the svaard or plain, and then, after being kept a few days in the unpretentious but comfortable mews of the old falconer, are despatched to the various clubs and individuals by whom they were bespoken. This year some twenty peregrines, a goshawk, and a few merlins have been secured in the old style, and all were purchased in advance before they even found their way into the bow-net. The process by which these captives are taken is exceedingly ingenious; and it would well repay any lover of natural history, to say nothing of falconers, to run over to Brabant one November just to see the hawk-catchers at work. The "Falcons' Plain" is a great expanse of heath, three miles long, and from a mile to two miles wide. In the midst of it the falconer builds a small semi-subterraneous hut, within which he can sit at his ease, smoking, reading, or working throughout the day. At his side, but just outside the hut, is posted a small but valuable assistant, a shrike or butcher-bird, which has been caught ready for this occasion at about the end of September. This little creature — the tyrant of the hedgerow — has a mortal terror of hawks, and especially of the redoubtable peregrine; and, as he jumps about at the end of his leash, or in his cage, he has perpetually an anxious eye turned towards the open sky. No sooner, therefore, does a peregrine pass within his range of vision, that is to say, within a mile or so, than he immediately gives warning by a series of piteous shrieks and all the violent actions inspired by horror and despair. The falconer, aroused in a moment by the noise, has in the twinkling of an eye put the trembling shrike out of the way, and then proceeds to set in motion his hawk-catching apparatus. The first of his objects is to attract the notice of the passing traveller of the air; and for this purpose he sometimes sets out on the open ground a trained or newly-taught hawk having a "dummy" fastened to its feet. The decoy hawk pulls and picks at the dummy, and seems to his fellow in the air to be discussing some meal; and thus a powerful attraction is first of all provided in the shape of curiosity, to say nothing of the chance that there may be something also for the new-coiner. But the principal motive upon which the trap-catcher relies is more direct and certain. He lets fly a pigeon, to which a long string is attached, and which, after some attempts to escape, at length finds its way into a small hut built for its accommodation. The wild hawk, which has of course seen this pigeon, comes sailing up overhead, and, as there is nothing to frighten him, descends within a few score feet of the ground to see what has become of it. Now is the time for the grand attempt. A second pigeon, which has been kept outside with a second cord attached to it, is pulled out of a refuge in which it also had been ensconced, and as it flutters up is struck down at a blow by the peregrine. In another moment it is killed, and the hawk, sooner or later, according to the state of its appetite, begins to take its meal. When once the meal has been begun the rest of the process is easy enough. A steady pull at the strong string to which the pigeon is tied, by means of soft jesses round its legs, draws it slowly along with the hawk upon it, towards a ring sunk in the turf. The hawk is too much occupied with his meal to pay much attention to this rather strange mode of involuntary travelling; and when once the two birds have been drawn close enough up to the ring, another cord is pulled, a bow-shaped net swings up from the ground, and the passage-hawk is secured. The bird-catcher may now at last issue from his place of concealment. He makes up to the net, seizes his victim with well-gloved hands, puts a ball of worsted under its talons, which are soon buried viciously in its soft mass, claps a hood on its head, and draws a sock over its body, which holds the still struggling and ferocious creature as in a strait waistcoat, and enables it to be laid down quietly on its back in the hut, while the falconer hurries back to prepare his tackle for effecting a fresh capture.