The first captive, once reduced to quiescence for the time being, will be laid out on the floor of the hut or near it, while the falconer returns to his watch-place. For there is no reason why he should not effect another, or even more captures, in the same day. Climatic influences or mere chance may have ordained that for a week or more he should have had no chance, and yet now the hawks should come fast and furiously to the decoy. Long-winged hawks, unlike woodcocks and many other migratory birds, travel with the wind in their faces; and they by no means hurry on their way, pausing, sometimes for some days at a time, at any place where quarry is abundant, where the bathing is good, and where, perhaps, there are other attractions which we dull, earth-treading mortals cannot understand or appreciate. As night comes on, the captives are carried home in their socks, and a rufter hood is put on, after which the socks are cut off, and they are set down on a hillock of soft turf, or, if they show no signs of violent uneasiness, on the screen-perch, the leash having, of course, in either case been attached and made fast. From this moment the person for whom the hawk is intended should by rights assume the ownership and charge of her. It would be absurd to suppose that the hawk-catcher, however good a falconer he may be, should act as trainer too, when he has to go out on the morrow, and perhaps for many days afterwards, to entrap other hawks. Before bedtime, in the long evening of late autumn, a grand attempt should be made to induce the newly-caught hawk to eat. If she was caught early in the day, and had not already breakfasted, it is possible that the attempt may succeed, especially if she is of a placid and philosophic turn of mind. But do not think that success will, even then, be easily achieved. You may very likely have to wait a long time. Different men, of course, have different methods of persuading a newly-caught hawk to feed; but all agree that it is a very difficult job. Many of the books advise the drawing of meat across her feet as she stands on the fist, and repeating this until she begins to pick at it. Perhaps I have never sufficiently tested this plan. I do not think I can honestly say that I have ever drawn the seductive morsel of meat more than a hundred times successively over the feet of the unwilling feeder. But I must confess that the process, even when protracted to this moderate length, is a little tedious. For my own part I have found that, if she is touched lightly on the shoulder with a finger of the right hand, she will generally strike out with open beak in the direction of the offending finger--not, of course, with any idea of eating anything, or even any very defined intention of biting her assailant, but in a mere spirit of anger and defiance. If, then, between the moment of touching her and that when the blow with the beak is struck you can substitute in the place of the finger a juicy