In the first place, some authorities question altogether the utility of hack for eyess goshawks or sparrow-hawks. Others maintain that it is quite sufficient to let them loose in a shed or empty room until their feathers are strong. This latter plan seems a very poor sort of compromise between hack and no hack. The eyesses so turned loose get no real liberty, and nothing at all like the amount of exercise which they would if they were in the open. Yet as compensation for what they thus lose they get no advantage that one can easily understand. Without pretending to decide the point in question, I may perhaps venture to say that any hawk's muscles and eyes, as well as her general health, are more likely to be improved by a free life in the open air than in a sort of big cage. If they are not hacked at all they may of course be very early made to the fist and the hood, and will be manned and in flying order much quicker than hack hawks. Whether this will be of advantage or not, circumstances alone can decide; but a short-winged hawk can generally be allowed a fairly long hack, and yet be ready for her trainer's use as soon as the latter requires her services. Of course it is not safe if there are other hawks out at hack to let goshawks out anywhere in the vicinity; and I should be very doubtful about the expediency of hacking sparrow-hawks in the same place as merlins or kestrels. In fact it is not safe even to peg out a goshawk in any place where hack merlins can come. I remember an unfortunate jack--the smallest I ever saw--to whom his owner had given the not very classical name of Jones. This hawk was out at hack in a rather promiscuous way, killing sparrows for himself occasionally, and at other times coming to the lure. I think he knew we laughed at him, and thought that life in general was a sort of joke. But one day the fancy seized him to go and fraternise with a big young goshawk which was out on her bow-perch, duly secured by the leash. The owner was absent at the time; and when he returned there was nothing left of poor Jones other than the feet and a sad litter of pretty brown and white feathers round about the bow-perch.