A Kestrel for a Knave by Barry Hines

something?’
    ‘It was a young ’un. It must have tumbled from a nest.’
    ‘And how long have you had it?’
    ‘Since last year.’
    ‘All that time? Where do you keep it?’
    ‘In a shed.’
    ‘And what do you feed it on?’
    ‘Beef. Mice. Birds.’
    ‘Isn’t it cruel though, keeping it in a shed all the time? Wouldn’t it be happier flying free?’
    Billy looked at Mr Farthing for the first time since he had told him to sit down.
    ‘I don’t keep it in t’shed all t’time. I fly it every day.’
    ‘And doesn’t it fly away? I thought hawks were wild birds.’
    ‘’Course it don’t fly away. I’ve trained it.’
    Billy looked round, as though daring anyone to challenge this authority.
    ‘Trained it? I thought you’d to be an expert to train hawks.’
    ‘Well I did it.’
    ‘Was it difficult?’
    ‘Course it was. You’ve to be right… right patient wi’ ’em and take your time.’
    ‘Well tell me how you did it then. I’ve never met a falconer before, I suppose I must be in select company.’
    Billy hutched his chair up and leaned forward over his desk.
    ‘Well what you do is, you train ’em through their stomachs. You can only do owt wi’ ’em when they’re hungry, so you do all your training at feeding time.
    ‘I started training Kes after I’d had her about a fortnight, when she was hard penned, that means her tail feathers and wing feathers had gone hard at their bases. You have to use a torch at night and keep inspecting ’em. It’s easy if you’re quiet, you just go up to her as she’s roosting, and spread her tail and wings. If t’feathers are blue near t’bottom o’ t’shaft, that means there’s blood in ’em an’ they’re still soft, so they’re not ready yet. When they’re white and hard then they’re ready, an’ you can start training her then.
    ‘Kes wa’ as fat as a pig though at first. All young hawks are when you first start to train ’em, an’ you can’t do much wi’ ’em ’til you’ve got their weight down. You’ve to be ever so careful though, you don’t just starve ’em, you weigh ’em before every meal and gradually cut their food down, ’til you go in one time an’ she’s keen, an’ that’s when you start getting somewhere. I could tell wi’ Kes, she jumpedstraight on my glove as I held it towards her. So while she wa’ feeding I got hold of her jesses an’…’
    ‘Her what?’
    ‘Jesses.’
    ‘Jesses. How do you spell that?’
    Mr Farthing stood up and stepped back to the board.
    ‘Er, J-E-S-S-E-S .’
    As Billy enunciated each letter, Mr Farthing linked them together on the blackboard.
    ‘Jesses. And what are jesses, Billy?’
    ‘They’re little leather straps that you fasten round its legs as soon as you get it. She wears these all t’time, and you get hold of ’em when she sits on your glove. You push your swivel through…’
    ‘Whoa! Whoa!’
    Mr Farthing held up his hands as though Billy was galloping towards him.
    ‘You’d better come out here and give us a demonstration. We’re not all experts you know.’
    Billy stood up and walked out, taking up position at the side of Mr Farthing’s desk. Mr Farthing reared his chair on to its back legs, swivelled it sideways on one leg, then lowered it on to all fours facing Billy.
    ‘Right, off you go.’
    ‘Well when she stands on your fist, you pull her jesses down between your fingers.’
    Billy held his left fist out and drew the jesses down between his first and second fingers.
    ‘Then you get your swivel, like a swivel on a dog lead, press both jesses together, and thread ’em through t’top ring of it. T’jesses have little slits in ’em near t’bottom, like buttonholes in braces, and when you’ve got t’jesses through t’top ring o’ t’swivel, you open these slits withyour finger, and push t’bottom ring through, just like fastening a button.’
    With the swivel now attached to the jesses, Billy turned to Mr Farthing.
    ‘Do you see?’
    ‘Yes,