Chapter XVII: The Secret of the High Hills 215 (2)

“I have, however, a strong recollection of a brother falconer (I cannot remember who it was) telling me that his trained merlins could easily overhaul a swift, and he told me that once or twice they had killed them. But this was many years ago, and I am not able to remember all the facts.

“I have often stood on the bridges here and watched swifts passing in hundreds close past me. They appear to be moving very fast when hawking after flies near the surface of a river.

“There is a long stretch of broad water in the river in front of my house here, and often there are hundreds of swifts flying up and down it. They go about half a mile dead straight and then turn back over this stretch of the river.

“I have flown fast carrier pigeons along this same bit of water, and they seem to do it in less time than the swifts. Only last summer, at my place in Scotland, I was sitting on the banks of the river watching some swifts, when a pair of blue rock pigeons came from their nest in the cliff, going out to feed, and they went clean past the swifts going in the same direction.

“Of course presumably the pigeons were in a hurry and the swifts were not, and unless we are certain that both birds are trying their hardest, you cannot accept these things as a test of speed.

“If I were asked to guess roughly at the six fastest flying birds in the British Isles, I should place them as follows:

1. The Peregrine,
2. The Hobby,
3. The Merlin,
4. The Golden Plover,
5. The Pochard,
6. The Blue Rock Pigeon,

and the fastest game bird is undoubtedly the blackcock. I do not know, however, if a capercailzie would not beat him if you could get them both to take a long flight across the open, because, generally speaking, in the case of birds of similar shape and species, the heaviest bird is the fastest flying one.”

Captain G. S. Blaine, another falconer of long and varied experience, has also been so kind as to give me his opinion on this question. He writes:

“I cannot say whether a peregrine falcon could overtake and kill a swift, but I do not think it would ever attempt the feat. Falcons do not, as a rule, attack small birds. The male or tiercel will sometimes stoop at them, but more in play than in earnest. The female, I should think, would never attempt to catch anything smaller than a thrush or starling.

“It is very difficult to estimate the relative speed of different birds. To do so, one would have to judge correctly of the time taken in passing a measured distance on a straight course. Very few birds, especially swifts, fly absolutely straight ahead.

“A hobby has been known to catch swifts and swallows, and possibly a merlin would do the same.

“A peregrine can fly faster than a merlin, but it would not be so quick in turning and following a bird.

“I think a peregrine can fly faster than a teal or golden plover, though, as you observe, the latter are quicker off the mark.”

There are very few recorded instances, as far as I have been able to ascertain, in which a hawk has killed the common swift. In two of these there was no evidence as to whether the hawk had not taken the swift by surprise. But there is at least one recorded instance in which a swift has been killed by a hobby in fair flight. This is to be found in that delightful book, _Field Studies of some Rarer British Birds_,[15] by Mr. William Walpole Bond. The description of the race is so vivid that, with the author’s kind permission, I reproduce it here.

“On June 14, 1907, as I lay in a spacious clearing of a big Sussex woodland, a sudden swirl of wings gave me instant pause in my meditations. Looking up, my eyes were held by a swift coasting earthwards in frantic haste, hotly pursued by a hobby not many yards in his wake. I literally held my breath with excitement, for here was an occurrence of dreamland only. Speeding on about a level with the tree-tops both birds measure the length of the long glade in fractional time, and the hawk gains almost imperceptibly.

“Then the pursued makes a mighty effort; he rises gamely, even slightly increasing his lead. Indeed it seemed he might shake off his deadly courser. Alas, my friend, it is to no purpose; the hobby has responded to your challenge, and now exhibits speed for which--glorious flier though he be--I should never have given him credit. Mounting with ease above his prospective prey, the lithe hawk compels him to describe an arc and once again to start a life--or death--struggle in a headlong slant across the clearing. That flight is his last--the swift has shot his bolt. Now inches only separate the birds, you could cover both with a very large handkerchief. Next instant the hawk rises straight and stoops strongly, pursuer and pursued become one. Binding to his quarry the hawk is away over the trees at my back without so much as the most momentary pause in the continuation of his eminently successful ‘shikar.’ Indeed, this continuity of action was possibly the most pleasing part of a praiseworthy performance, since you might reasonably have expected a break--however trivial--after what must have been a long and arduous chase. As a fact, the death-stroke was so featly and rapidly administered that, except that where a moment before there had been two birds there was now only one, and that a muffled clap and a few small dusky feathers twirling aimlessly in the summer breeze suggested some sort of untoward happening, it was difficult to realise that anything unusual had taken place.

“I have seen the irresistible death-stoop of the peregrine, the lightning rush of the tiny merlin, I have watched the earthward plunge after prey of buzzard, eagle, kite, and harrier; I have revelled in the agile snatch of the sparrow-hawk, in the silent hovering of the kestrel; and all have I enjoyed. Here was something quite different and even far better. Never have I seen skill so superb as was displayed by that hobby.”

It would therefore seem that the hobby, which is a peregrine in miniature, flies faster than the common swift even on a horizontal flight, but it is worthy of note that in both stoops referred to in this delightful description, the hobby gained by reason of gravity. True, he also gained altitude, but this may have been better manœuvring for position and not necessarily a greater speed. As the peregrine flies faster than the hobby, being a bird of the same structure but larger, the peregrine could no doubt overtake and kill the common swift if it would take the trouble to pursue so small a bird.

Next, as to the Alpine swift. This bird is much larger than the common swift--in length 8 inches as compared with 6·75 inches--whilst their wings are 8·45 inches and 6·8 inches respectively, and as the two birds are of the same structure, one would naturally expect that the Alpine swift would be much the faster flier. The flight of the Alpine swift, like that of the blackcock, which is probably the fastest flier amongst game birds with the possible exception of the capercailzie, is very deceptive.

Colonel Meinertzhagen, in the article already mentioned, describes some observations from an aeroplane in regard to the flight of a large flock of common swifts feeding at an altitude of 6000 feet over Mosul in Mesopotamia. He describes how they circled round the aeroplane, which was flying at 68 miles an hour, and easily overtook it. In commenting on this case he says: “The case of the Mosul swifts is interesting. The birds were probably not on passage but simply feeding. It is known that swifts travel great distances in search of food and ascend great altitudes.

“In the Middle Atlas of Morocco, in the Himalayas, in Crete, and Palestine, 4000 or 5000 feet and 50 miles or so in distance seems nothing to these incomparable fliers. I have had splendid opportunities of observing the Alpine, common, and spine-tailed swifts (_Chaetura_), and it has been a great disappointment to me that I have never been able to get a satisfactory estimate of their rate of flight, as they never continue on a level course. On a small island on the coast of Crete I was recently given a good exhibition of what an Alpine swift can do. I was watching some of these birds feeding round cliffs in which several pairs of Eleonora’s falcons were about to breed. Now, this delightful falcon is no mean flier, and as these swifts passed their cliff, the falcons would come out against them like rockets. The swifts would accelerate and would seem to be out of sight before the falcons were well on their way. So confident were the swifts in their superior speed, that every time they circled round the island they never failed to ‘draw’ the falcons, and seemed to be playing with them. I may add that these same falcons have little difficulty in overhauling and striking a rock-pigeon--itself no mean performer. I have also seen on record the case of falcons and swifts somewhere in India, where the former failed time after time to come up with his quarry. I, unfortunately, cannot trace the reference.

“I hesitate even to guess at the speed to which a swift can attain when the necessity arises, but the main point is that this, the fastest of birds, can increase his feeding speed of, say, 70 miles per hour, to a velocity which must exceed 100 miles per hour.”

In the tables given above[16] Colonel Meinertzhagen estimates the speed of the normal and migratory rate of flight of falcons at 40 to 48 miles an hour, whilst Captain Portal estimates the maximum speed of the peregrine falcon in level flight through still air at 62 miles an hour. Captain Portal adds that the speed given is for a good trained bird, and that a wild bird is faster.

In view of Colonel Meinertzhagen’s observations from his aeroplane and the figures given above, it would appear to be certain that the Alpine swift is faster than the peregrine falcon in horizontal flight.

We have now to consider the speed of the spine-tailed or needle-tailed swift. There seems to be no doubt that this bird is a much faster flier than the Alpine swift, though at first sight and without a careful examination of the skeletons, it is difficult to state why this should be so. I have compared various specimens of the two birds, and there appears to be little difference in their size. Colonel Meinertzhagen, who has been so kind as to discuss the subject with me, agrees that the spine-tailed swift is the faster flier, and tells me that he thinks it is probably the heavier bird of the two, and that this may account for its greater rapidity of flight.

The wing of the Alpine swift is 8·45 inches, that of the spine-tailed swift is 8·1 inches. The length of both birds is 8 inches,[17] although Dresser[18] gives the total length as 8·5 and that of the spine-tailed swift as 8·1 inches.

The genus _Chaetura_, to which the needle-tailed swift belongs, is easily distinguishable from the genus _Apus_ (to which the common swift and Alpine swift belong) by the wedge-shaped tail in which the shafts of the feathers are longer than the webs and protrude like spines. The tail in the only species (_Chaetura caudacuta caudacuta_) occurring in the British Isles, compared with that of the Alpine swift, is very short. It is almost square, and has ten feathers, which are very stiff and the shafts of which project 4-6 mm. (·156-·234 inch) beyond the web in a stiff point like that of a needle or spine.[19]

The shafts of the primaries are very strong and the wings very long. Gould[20] says, in reference to the spine-tailed swift, in a passage which is quoted in Seebohm:[21] “The keel or breast bone of this species is more than ordinarily deep and the pectoral muscles more developed than in any of its weight with which I am acquainted.” Probably the last-mentioned facts largely account for its superiority in speed over the Alpine swift.

In an article entitled “The Twelve Swiftest Birds of Australia,”[22] in which Mr. E. S. Sovenson gives the views of himself and various friends of his as to the relative speed of Australian birds, he says that after long observation he and they have no hesitation in stating that the spine-tailed swift is the swiftest Australian bird, and states that its speed has been computed at 180 miles an hour.

“Besides its swiftness,” he writes, “it is almost tireless of wing, being second only in that respect to the frigate bird, the bird of eternal flight. Both have very long wings in relation to the body--an indication of rapid flight. The swift, a bird of passage which crossed the wide sea after breeding in Japan, is not known to alight in Australia, where it spends a considerable time hunting its insect prey in the upper air.”

In _A History of the Birds of Europe_,[23] Dresser writes: “The present species (_Acanthyllis caudacuta_ or _Chaetura caudacuta caudacuta_) and _Acanthyllis gigantea_ are said to be the swiftest birds in existence. Tickell says that he never witnessed anything equal to the prodigious swiftness of its movements.”

_Chaetura caudacuta cochinchinensis_ (which is to be found in Malacca, Sumatra, and Cochin China) is a form of the spine-tailed swift allied to that species (_Chaetura caudacuta caudacuta_) which is so rare a visitor here. I have examined and compared numerous specimens of these three species of spine-tailed swifts, and it would seem practically certain, in view of their similarity in size and structure, that their speed must be similar.

Mr. E. Stuart Baker, who has made experiments as to the speed of the _Chaetura nudipes_ and the _Chaetura cochinchinensis_, writes:[24] “Both these species have a normal flighting speed of something very nearly approaching 200 miles an hour, enormously in excess of the powers of any other bird with which I am acquainted. In North Cachar, Assam, these birds used to fly directly over my bungalow in Haflang, flying thence in a straight line to a ridge of hills exactly two miles away, and when over the ridge at once dipping out of sight. We constantly timed these swifts and found that stop-watches made them cover this distance in from 36 seconds to 42 seconds, _i.e._ at a rate of exactly 200 miles an hour to 171·4.”

Writing of the _Chaetura nudipes_ Mr. W. T. Blanford, F.R.S., says:[25] “This and the other large spine-tails are, I believe, absolutely the swiftest of living birds. Their flight far exceeds that of the Alpine swift, and I doubt if any falcon can approach them in speed. They are generally seen in scattered flocks that play about for a time and disappear at a pace that must be seen to be appreciated.”

The same ornithologist refers[26] to the _Chaetura indica_ or brown-necked spine-tailed swift, which is a larger species (length about 9 inches, tail 2·6--wing 8--tarsus 6·8), as being “equal or possibly even superior in speed to _Chaetura nudipes_--so wonderful is their flight that Mr. H. R. P. Carter remarked that a flock of Alpine swifts, passing over immediately after some of the present species, ‘seemed to fly like owls after the arrow-like speed of the spine-tails.’”

I think, therefore, that if the speed in horizontal flight is alone to be considered, the spine-tailed swift is the fastest bird which flies in the British Isles, that the Alpine swift comes next; then come the northern falcons (or as they are usually called, gyr-falcons) and the peregrine falcon, in the order named, except in the case of a very short flight, in which case the Golden Plover and teal, being faster off the mark and better sprinters, will fly more quickly than the falcons, though they will, when the latter really get going, be gradually overtaken.

There remains for consideration the speed of the golden eagle and falcon in their downward flight, when stooping at their prey. There is no certain method of comparing their respective speeds in this unique kind of flight either with one another or with the speed of other birds which never fly in this way. In considering the question of the relative speed of the two birds in this particular kind of flight, I will first deal with the matter on principle and then consider such evidence of eye-witnesses as I have been able to obtain. The falcon has of course one great advantage over the eagle as regards equipment for swift flight. He has the long pointed wings typical of the true falcon, whereas the eagle has rounded wings. As between birds of similar size and spread of wings, the bird with pointed wings is faster than the one with rounded wings. Thus a blackcock is undoubtedly faster than a pheasant although their bodies are about the same size, or to be more accurate the blackcock is rather smaller than the pheasant. A striking instance of this was recently given in the _Field_[27] by Mr. G. Denholm Armour, who wrote: “Some years ago a friend asked me to come to Argyllshire late in the autumn to shoot some black-game which lived in the birch and fir woods hanging along the lower parts of the hills.

“Our method was to place ourselves in a break in the line of woods at the bottom of the hill, sending two or three men to drive the wood towards us. The result was usually very high birds flying downhill and very fast. On several occasions at the same time came a blackcock and a cock pheasant, of which there were a few in almost every drive. Incidentally, most of the pheasants we shot were old birds with long spurs, so were very strong on the wing. In each case--and I noticed several--the blackcock outflew the pheasant by what seemed to be about 50 per cent in pace, leaving him as a racing car would a ‘runabout.’

“The chance of comparison was very interesting, being between birds of much the same weight and size, both started under the same conditions, and I think ‘doing their best.’ Had the blackcock come alone, I think his much slower wing beat would have made one think him the slower flier of the two.”

The blackcock and grouse have wings exactly alike--but the blackcock is heavier than the grouse and much faster.

With the exception of the difference in the wings mentioned above, the structure of the eagle and falcon is very similar, and as has been pointed out, the larger of two birds of similar structure once it gets going is almost invariably faster, owing no doubt to its superior muscular power and driving force.

In comparing the downward flight of the eagle and falcon it is also necessary to recollect the advantage which the former has by reason of its much greater weight.

It is difficult to obtain thoroughly reliable records of the weights of the golden eagle and the different falcons; but so far as I can ascertain, the weight of the eagle varies from 8½ to 12½ lb., that of the gyr-falcon from 3 to 3¾ lb., and that of the peregrine from 2 to 3 ounces under 2 lb. to 2¾ lb., in each case of course the female bird being heavier than the male.

But for the resistance of the air, all bodies, light or heavy, small or large, would fall at the same rate. In fact, however, as velocity increases a notable air resistance is set up which increases rapidly. The velocity of a body falling freely _in vacuo_ is over forty miles per hour at the end of two seconds, over sixty at the end of three seconds, and so on.

We all know by experience the great force exerted by a wind of a velocity even as low as thirty miles an hour, which most people would call a hurricane. But it is not perhaps so generally known that in proportion to its weight, other things such as shape and specific gravity being similar, a small body experiences much greater resistance than a large body. The resistance of the air to the fine particles of vapour which constitute a cloud is such that they only fall at the same rate of a few feet per hour. And in the case of two birds of similar shape and specific gravity, but one eight times the weight of the other, the larger bird would ultimately attain a velocity roughly twice as great as the other, if both fell for a sufficient distance to attain their limiting velocities, _i.e._ the velocity at which the resistance offered by the air is equal to the attraction of gravity. Similarly if the one bird were four times the weight of the other, the velocity ultimately attained under the conditions mentioned would be roughly one and a half times as great as the other.

In “Notes by an Old Stalker” in the _Field_ for September 9, 1922 (p. 370) there appears the following interesting account of a duel between a golden eagle and a peregrine which the writer himself witnessed:

“Although by a long way our most powerful bird, the eagle is by no means a match for some much smaller combatants. Once I saw an eagle soaring placidly along when from a range of precipices immediately below him a falcon shot up into the air. Without a moment’s hesitation he attacked the giant bird. The eagle at once joined combat, and through the telescope I could see his efforts to hit his adversary with beak and wing. One blow from either and it would be all over with the falcon; but the latter evidently realised this and regulated his tactics accordingly. The movements of the eagle were slow and cumbrous compared to the rapid action and lithe activity of his adversary. Every time he dodged the eagle’s stroke and, wheeling rapidly, got in his blow before the huge bird could recover himself. That the eagle was in a great rage was evident, for I could hear him emitting sounds that resembled nothing so much as the bark of a terrier. Finally, realising the hopelessness of the contest, he took to flight. I previously knew that the eagle was fast on wing, but the speed he now exhibited was a revelation to me. With half-extended, half-curved wings, showing never a tremor, he cleft the air straight as a bullet. The falcon pursued, but, being left hopelessly behind, soon gave up the chase.”

The flight of the eagle here described was obviously a glide or downward flight, when, as I have pointed out, gravity would assist his speed to a greater extent than it would in a bird of less weight--the peregrine.

In the case of a bird of prey descending from a height on its quarry, the nearer its downward flight is to the vertical the faster will it descend. In coming down on its prey, neither the eagle nor the falcon completely closes its wings, probably because if it did so, it would lose control. This is also true of the gannet or solan goose, which has been described as the largest and noblest-looking of our sea fowl. The great speed which a bird of large size can attain in downward flight can to some extent be realised by watching the gannet when he drops head first as he descends perpendicularly on to the fish in the water. I have carefully examined and compared the skeletons of the eagle and peregrine and have tried to form some idea as to the relative muscular power and driving force of the two birds, and bearing in mind the facts stated above, and the greatly superior size and weight of the eagle, it seems reasonable to conclude on principle that the eagle is probably faster than the gyr-falcon or peregrine in a downward flight, assuming that both birds are putting forth all their powers.

As regards the evidence of eye-witnesses, I have discussed this question with many stalkers. The majority of them have never seen the eagle stoop at its quarry and strike it a blow which sends it to the ground as the peregrine so often does--though they have seen the eagle seize its quarry in the air or pounce on it on the ground and carry it off. Only a few of these, however, have any doubt as a result of what they have heard from other stalkers and keepers that the eagle on occasion does adopt the former method.

It is, however, an undoubted fact that although the eagle generally captures birds which he is pursuing by seizing them in his talons or, to use the falconer’s term, binding on them, he occasionally stoops on and strikes them in the air, sending them hurtling to the ground in the same way as the peregrine does.

The reason why the eagle so rarely adopts this method is probably because it can secure its prey without doing so, and further if it were to exert all its powers when descending from a considerable height at an angle near the vertical on a grouse, blackcock, or ptarmigan (which do not usually fly very high above the ground), it would incur a serious risk of injury in consequence of being carried on by its impetus and dashing against the rocks or ground after striking down its prey.

By V. R. BALFOUR-BROWNE.]

The interesting, and I think significant, fact is that although some of these stalkers with whom I have discussed the question think that the peregrine probably flies faster than the eagle, every one of them who has seen the eagle kill its quarry in this way (and I know several) has told me that in his opinion the eagle in its final rush is faster than the peregrine. It is also important in this connection to bear in mind the fact on which Major Radclyffe lays such stress--that it is an optical illusion to imagine that a smaller-sized bird is flying faster than a larger bird of similar shape and make, and that, as he says, ninety-nine sportsmen out of a hundred would probably tell you that a snipe flies faster than a woodcock--whereas the converse is true. An old keeper in the North, whom I have known for many years, told me that he had seen the eagle stoop at and strike his quarry in this way on two occasions, and that it moved in its final downward flight with the same lightning-like rapidity as the peregrine.

John Finlayson, the head stalker at Killilan, wrote to me last February as follows: “I have once plainly seen the eagle driving after grouse and striking it down very similar like what the peregrine falcon does. It happened at the north end of Corrie-ach. I was going up to Patt from Mulbuie way. A covey of grouse came tearing down from the low end of Aonachbuie in front of me, about 300 yards away, and an eagle in hot pursuit, wings gathered up, and making a swishing noise; going through the air it struck one down, with a cloud of feathers knocked out when it did so. The eagle glided up a little, then balanced and dropped down where the bird fell; it was a little over a ridge out of my view; when I got up to the place I saw the eagle well up the glen going fast with the bird in its talons.”

My gamekeeper, Donald McIver, who has lived all his life in Ross-shire, on one occasion saw an eagle strike and kill a blackcock. This is his account of it. “In the forest of Strathconan, where I was for a number of years, I once saw a very fine sight of an eagle pursuing a blackcock. The blackcock got up at the head of a very deep corrie and came over at a very great height. The eagle was about and soon after it. I could see him overtake the bird, and I would say that he struck him the same way as the peregrine does with his claw. I saw something drop, but could not make out what it was at the time; then the eagle doubled in the air and caught the bird before it reached the ground. None of the other eagles I have seen after their prey have struck it like this in the air. They have always clutched at their prey, but this time the eagle struck the bird and went right past him. I was not far off, and could hear a tremendous noise of the wings. When the eagle doubled back and caught the bird in the air I would judge that the bird would be as high up as three hundred feet, and when he doubled back I should think he was not fifty.

“Perhaps the narrowness of the corrie might be the reason for him taking the bird in the way he did--I went to the place and found the head of the blackcock; there was about three inches of skin hanging to the head, a tear like what would be done with the claw. This is the only time I ever saw an eagle kill a bird in the air, but it was a grand sight. This happened in January 1895, in Corrie Vullin, Strathconan.”

This amazing feat in aerial gymnastics is no doubt also performed on rare occasions by the peregrine. One of the most experienced of living falconers wrote to me as follows: “I have seen a very celebrated falcon which I owned for years bring off a remarkable trick several times. She used to strike at the back of the grouse’s head, and I have seen her just scalp the grouse, taking a piece out of its skull not as large as a pea, and thus killing the bird in mid-air just as if it was shot; often, when the grouse was high above the ground, I have seen the falcon then take a sharp turn in the air as the grouse was falling, like a spinning leaf, and pick it up in her feet before it could touch the ground--a very wonderful sight.”

An old friend of mine, who is head stalker in one of our best-known deer forests and whose veracity I have every reason to accept, told me an interesting story which further illustrates what fine feats in the air the peregrine falcon can perform. He said that on one occasion he saw a falcon strike and carry off a crow. As the falcon was circling higher and higher up, carrying off this crow, it was mobbed by a considerable number of other crows. For some time it ignored them, continuing its steady upward circling flight until one crow, becoming rather bolder than the rest, provoked the falcon into retaliation. Dropping the crow it was carrying, the falcon stooped on the troublesome crow, struck and killed it and, turning with extraordinary rapidity, caught in the air the dead crow which it had been carrying, and then recommenced its upward flight without further trouble from the crows.

From a Photograph by FRANK WALLACE.]

The marvellous speed of the golden eagle and peregrine in their final rush, when stooping from a height at their quarry, must be seen to be believed. Few persons have been so fortunate as to have this opportunity in the case of the golden eagle, although this grand bird is often to be seen in some forests and has no doubt increased in numbers in recent years. On the other hand, there are of course many persons who have seen both the wild peregrine and the trained gyrfalcon and peregrine strike down their quarry.

The well-known ornithologist and wild-fowler, Mr. W. H. Robinson of Lancaster, in a letter in the _Field_ of January 28, 1922, after stating from his own experience that the peregrine can overtake the golden plover and the curlew with the greatest ease, says:

“To my mind one of the fastest things I have ever witnessed is the last effort of a peregrine in chase of a wild duck when, fast as is the accelerated speed of a mallard, it seems almost to be standing still in the air when the peregrine stoops over it.”

Any one who has seen this, as I am glad to say I have, will assuredly echo these words.

It is of course pure speculation whether, in the comparatively short flight of an eagle or falcon stooping in its final downward rush at its prey, its speed exceeds the maximum speed of the spine-tailed swift. Those, however, who have seen the last effort of the eagle or falcon in a flight of that unique kind will never believe, without scientific demonstration to the contrary, that any other bird in the British Isles can fly faster.

V

A GOOD DAY IN THE FOREST OF COIGNAFEARN

Towards the end of a September several years ago I was so fortunate as to be invited to stalk at Coignafearn, which has always been famous for the size and weight of its deer. On reaching the lodge on a Saturday night, I heard that the head stalker had met with an accident, fortunately not a bad one, but possibly serious enough to prevent his going out with me on the following Monday. He had been out in the forest the day before I arrived, and on going up to a stag to bleed him, the stag had given a sudden unexpected plunge, which had caused the stalker to inflict on himself a nasty wound in his right leg with his knife, which was open in his hand; another instance that no one, not even the oldest and most experienced of stalkers, can be too careful on these occasions. On Monday morning he was much better but not fit to go with me. The season was well advanced, and my host was very anxious to kill the usual number of stags as soon as possible. It was therefore arranged that I should act as my own stalker, and take with me a watcher named Maclennan. I had also two gillies with me and a couple of ponies, and my host told me that he would be only too glad, if I could manage it, if I would kill as many stags as could be brought in. Maclennan had never acted as stalker, but as there is nothing I like better than to do the stalking myself, I was very pleased with this arrangement, for Maclennan knew the ground thoroughly, and I felt sure that his assistance would be invaluable; indeed, without him I could of course have done practically nothing, as the ground was strange to me. We were in the forest and spying by 10 A.M., and very soon we saw a good stag with some hinds. The stalk was unsuccessful, but it was not long before we spied another good stag, and without much difficulty I managed to get into a good position within about 150 yards, and shot him through the heart. He proved to be a good eight-pointer, and weighed 15 stone clean. Shortly after this we spied a large herd of deer which were very restless, continually on the move. There were several good stags in the herd, and these were roaring and fighting and driving the hinds about. Two of them in particular, which looked like the heaviest, engaged in a battle which lasted for some time; but gradually one of them showed signs of being worsted and, watching his opportunity, suddenly turned tail and bolted. It is rarely that battles of this kind end fatally--only once have I met an eye-witness of such an occurrence. The battle was between a switch and a ten-pointer. The combatants were fighting on the side of a hill and were very evenly matched. My informant, the stalker at Attadale, said that after some time the switch, taking advantage of being on slightly higher ground, charged his adversary and, getting past his guard, pierced his side with his antlers. The ten-pointer immediately fell to the ground dead. The stalker ran up and found that the dead stag had been pierced through the heart by his conqueror.

The stag with the best horns is generally not the best fighter and is frequently driven out by a switch-horn or “caberslach,” whose long skewer-like antlers are the most effective horns for fighting. The best fighter of all is, however, the hummel--a stag which has no horns at all, and which is in consequence a very heavy beast.

It is astonishing how a stag will sometimes acknowledge himself beaten without any fight at all. I remember when stalking at Fealar that I had been trying without success for nearly two hours to get a shot at a big black stag which was in pursuit of a large number of hinds and was constantly on the move, skirmishing with smaller stags and driving them away. Suddenly we heard the sound of great roaring and saw coming from the direction of Mar Forest a huge red stag which evidently had for its objective the hinds who were in charge of the black stag. The newcomer kept running for a short distance and then stopped to roar and grunt. We thought that by running hard we might reach a point near enough to get a shot at him. We accordingly ran as fast as we could in order to try to cut him off, but in vain. Before we could get within shot of him he had passed this point we were making for. As soon as he got within sixty to seventy yards of the black stag, who was waiting and every now and then roaring defiantly in answer to his challenge, the latter seemed suddenly to realize that the contest would be hopeless and turned tail and bolted ignominiously, being pursued only for a short distance by his adversary, who then rounded up the hinds and drove them off.

But to return to my story. We tried to stalk the victorious stag, which seemed to be the best beast in the herd, but found it extraordinarily difficult to get within shot of him. There always seemed to be several hinds in the way, and, as it was now getting towards two o’clock, we decided to have luncheon, in the hope that in the meantime the deer would settle down, and that we should then have a chance at the stag we were after. We did not waste any time over lunch and very soon again had the deer in view. They were still on the move and we followed them for some time. The stag which we were after, which we made out to be a nine-pointer, was evidently much troubled by two other stags only a little smaller than himself, and presently, after chasing away first one and then the other, these three stags were between us and the herd. Now at last it seemed there was some chance of getting a shot at the nine-pointer, but before we could get up to him he began again to chase off the other stags, and then turned, and at a good pace followed the herd which was moving away from us. The other stags then also turned and followed in the same direction, though at a respectful distance from the nine-pointer. Maclennan and I, by running and crawling quickly, gradually diminished the distance between ourselves and the deer, and at last, after a quick run when out of their sight, crawled up a small hill and saw the three stags, the nine-pointer watching the other two. The nine-pointer was nearly 200 yards from us when he suddenly stopped and turned, standing for a moment about three-quarters on. I saw that this was my only chance, as the stags were just on the brow of the hill, and in a few moments would almost certainly be out of sight. I therefore decided to take the chance and fired.

“You have him, sir,” said Maclennan, as the stag, evidently hard hit, disappeared over the brow of the hill. We made our way as fast as we could over the hill, but saw no sign of the stag.

By FRANK WALLACE.]

The ground was rocky and very broken, and I felt sure that he could not have gone far, and was lying down hiding himself. We began to search, when suddenly the stag jumped up from under a rock about some eighty yards from us, and after running for about 500 yards farther lay down behind a rock, showing only the point of his horns. I had not shot at him again, as he was end on, and was evidently in such a condition that he could not go very far. We followed up, keeping well out of sight, but found it impossible to get a chance of shooting, so cleverly had he concealed himself. Whilst hesitating as to what would be the best course to take, the stag suddenly got up again and bolted, but this time he gave me a fair chance of a shot, and I killed him before he had gone more than a few yards. On getting up to him, we found that my first shot was not sufficiently forward, but was a raking shot through the body, and the stag could not in any case have gone very far. He was a good beast with a strong horn, and later turned the scale at 16 stone 9 lb. clean. After gralloching the stag, one of the gillies went off to signal to the ponyman; and Maclennan, the other gillie, and I proceeded to work our way back to the lodge, hoping to get another shot on the way home. We soon spied a good stag with a number of hinds, and, after a long stalk, I got a good chance of taking a quick shot at a little over 100 yards and fired. The stag disappeared. Maclennan thought I had hit him, but I was very uncertain, and think I must have shot over him. A long and careful search on the ground, which was very broken, showed nothing. There was no sign of the stag, nor were there any marks of blood to be seen, and I felt satisfied that I must have missed him, though Maclennan and the gillie had thought otherwise.

We again started to work our way back, and had not gone very far before Maclennan suddenly stopped and brought his glass to bear on the face of a hill about half a mile away. He then said there was a stag with a fine wide head lying down, and that we ought to be able to get close to him without difficulty, as the ground was very broken. I proceeded to stalk this stag, and got without great difficulty within about 180 yards of him, when I saw that he was up and looking very suspicious, and that I should have to take my shot as soon as I could. We quickly got the rifle out of the cover, and crawled to another hillock about 100 yards from where the stag was. Arrived there, I pushed the barrels of my rifle over the top of the hillock and slowly raised my head. The stag was standing nearly broadside on, looking straight at me. I fired. There was a thud as the bullet struck him, and he turned and galloped off, disappearing round a corner of the hill. I felt confident that the bullet had gone home; and we found the stag, who had been, as I thought, shot through the heart, lying dead about sixty yards from the place where he had been standing when I fired at him. He was a ten-pointer, and had a fine wide head with a good horn, and when we got him home we found, curiously enough, that his weight was exactly the same as that of the first stag that I had shot--15 stone clean.

Leaving the gillie to gralloch the stag, Maclennan and I now proceeded homewards, keeping a sharp look-out, and presently we saw a considerable number of stags, which were moving across the valley from one hill to another. We saw that if they were not disturbed they would probably cross a little hill not far from us, at a point from which we could, if we moved quickly, get to within shooting distance. So, running and walking quickly, we reached a spot about 140 to 150 yards from the point at which we expected the stags to pass, and arrived just in time. The stags were moving slowly almost broadside to us in single file, and were passing over a little knoll, at which point I had a fine chance of a shot.

“Take the second one, sir,” said Maclennan, who had his glass on them. I was just about to fire when he said: “No, not that one, but the third; he’s better.” Again I was on the point of shooting when Maclennan said: “Wait, sir, wait; take the fifth, he’s the best.” Directly the stag topped the knoll I fired, and he ran a few yards and fell down. On coming up to him I found it necessary to give him another bullet through the neck. We found that this stag was by far the best we had seen that day. He was a royal, in splendid condition, and weighed 17 stone 6 lb. clean. He had a magnificent head, with very thick black horns, and long points with white tips. After gralloching him, and tying a handkerchief to his horns to scare the eagles and foxes, we made our way back to the lodge. I had several good days in the forest subsequently, with one or other of the regular stalkers, but none more enjoyable than this one, in which, without the assistance of a regular stalker, I had the good fortune to kill four stags averaging over 16 stone clean, without heart or liver.

By V. R. BALFOUR-BROWNE.]

VI

A STALKER’S PERIL

The accident to the head stalker which I mentioned in the preceding article shows that stalking, like almost every other sport, has its dangers, and every one acquainted with the pursuit of deer knows the necessity of exercising great care in approaching them after they have been shot.

A serious accident is, however, very rare, but sometimes even the most experienced stalkers, as in the instance referred to above, incur risks which they ought not to take.

Far more serious than the accident which I have described was one which occurred several years ago, recorded by a former neighbour of mine in the north, the owner of a well-known deer forest. I give the story in his own words, as well as I can remember. “It was late one day in the forest of Fannich, where I was stalking as the guest of one of my relatives who was at that time a tenant of the forest. After a long and difficult stalk, I had succeeded in getting up to the stag and shot it. The stalker, Duncan, an excellent man of long experience, approached the animal to give it the _coup de grâce_, and, with his open knife in his right hand, seized one of the stag’s forelegs with his left. Instantly the stag gave a tremendous plunge and threw Duncan back. The knife went into Duncan’s thigh, and he bled profusely. Both of us made frantic efforts to stop the bleeding, but without avail. The gillie, who was behind, came up, and we did all we could, but having no medical training, or even a knowledge of first aid, were unable to render useful assistance. Duncan got weaker and fainter, and was apparently bleeding to death. He was, however, perfectly cool and collected, said there was no one to blame but himself, that he was awfully careless, and ought never to have taken hold of the stag in the way he did.

By FINLAY MACKINNON.]

“He appeared to be rapidly getting weaker, and said quite quietly that he thought he was dying, and asked me to take some messages for him to his wife and children, and then seemed to be losing consciousness. It was getting dusk, and the gillie urged me not to wait any longer, as I could do no good, and unless I started for the lodge at once I should not be able to find my way. So with a heavy heart I said good-bye to poor Duncan and started homewards. From time to time I turned to look back at the two men, and at last, when I reached the top of the last hill I had to cross before losing sight of them, I turned to take one final glance. When I looked round, however, I was startled to see, close to the place where Duncan had been lying, the figures of two men walking slowly. There was no mistake about it--they were Duncan and the gillie. I ran back again, and found that soon after I left them the bleeding had stopped quite unaccountably, and Duncan, though still very weak, had gradually revived and finally insisted on trying to walk. We persuaded him to rest, and, leaving the gillie beside him, I went back to the lodge as quickly as I could and sent up a pony. Duncan got safely home, and when the doctor saw him he said it was a marvellous escape, for if the knife had gone into Duncan’s thigh two inches from the spot where it entered, nothing could have saved his life.”

VII

THE LUCK OF SALMON FISHING

I have always sympathised with the author of the lines known as “The Angler’s Prayer,” lines which are not so well known as they deserve to be:

Lord, suffer me to catch a fish--
So large that _even I_
When talking of it afterwards
May have no need to lie.

In the spring of 1921 came the tragedy of my life as a fisherman. I had five days’ fishing in the famous river Wye. The river was dead low and my chances of success very small, but I kept steadily at work during the time at my disposal, and on the fourth day had the good fortune, by means of the attractions of a Mar Lodge (size 4/0), to hook a salmon which was not only the largest salmon I had ever seen, but also the largest seen in that year on the beat I was fishing--a most exciting struggle of over an hour terminating in a wild rush of over 100 yards, the wildest rush I, or the keen fisherman I had with me, have ever seen, a grand leap high up into the air of this splendid clean-run fish, and the line came slowly back, the cast having broken a foot from the end. Elsewhere (pp. 12-22, _supra_) I have told of how this splendid fish, no doubt exhausted by the struggle, was shortly afterwards killed by a far greater fisherman than any mere mortal man--an otter. Its estimated weight, as far as could be judged from its remains, was about 40 lb. The day was Friday, April 1, an appropriate day and date for such a catastrophe. In the early part of the following year I received an invitation from the same kindly host to try my luck again in April on the same river, but on another and more famous beat. I gratefully accepted the invitation, and set forth in high hopes and, curiously enough, with a strong sense of expectation, I might almost say the assurance, of great events.

For several days after my arrival the river was so high that fishing was hopeless, but on the morning of April 18, though still high and coloured, it had run down to such an extent as to be in fair condition.