There is a whole world of difference between the breaking of dogs and the breaking of hawks. The former know when they deserve punishment, and actually expect it. They respect a man for chastising them when they have done wrong, and rather despise him if he ignores the fault. A hawk, on the other hand, must never be punished, at least openly. To strike a hawk, or rate her, is to forfeit at once her respect, and what may be called her affection. A dog is a slave by immemorial habit. He knows intuitively that he is dependent upon man as a master. But the hawk, if she is worth her salt, knows nothing of the kind. Turn her loose, and instead of starving or begging, like the lost dog, she will well shift for herself. She looks upon man as an ally rather than a master. She likes to be treated as a friend and equal, rather than as a dependant and a servant. Falcons, especially,--that is, the females of the long-winged hawks,--are excessively proud, and even haughty; and are mortally offended if any indignity is offered them. But no matter what the hawk may be, the true policy is constant kindliness, or at least the outward semblance of it--a policy of rewards and not of punishments. Endeavour always to impress upon her the idea that you are her very best friend; that her chief enjoyments in life are due to your foresight and assistance; that her food, her bath, the block on which she stands at ease, the well-padded, sheltered perch, and, last but not least, the opportunities for good and successful flights, are provided by you. Then will she, in the language of the mediæval falconers, rejoice at the sight of you, and like no place so well as the fist. Then will she fly the better when your voice cheers her on, and begin her meal more comfortably when you are standing or sitting by. It is well to treat the ill-tempered hawk somewhat as Mrs. Gummidge was treated, by making allowances. Possibly she may some day surprise you by the display of unsuspected virtues.