Swiss Fairy Tales
Copyright© 2025 by William Elliot Griffis
Chapter 10: The Castle of the Hawk
The hawk is one of the children of Asia, the Mother Continent, in which almost all the fairy tales were first told. From the beginning, this sharp-eyed bird of prey has had the reputation of being very cruel, and of eating up the little birds. It has a curved beak, terribly sharp talons, and very large and strong wings. The young fowls in the barnyard are afraid, even of the hawk’s shadow, and they quickly run to cover. For the hawk, sometimes called a falcon, can fly up very high and then swoop down on the small, or tame birds, kill them at once and carry them off. Little chickens, to be safe, had better run at once under the wings of their mother. Sometimes, the old hen faces the falcon so bravely, that she can save her brood and fight hard, until a man comes with a gun and drives off this pirate of the air. In Switzerland, they call the big hawk the Mountain Condor, or the Robber Bird. It seizes many a lamb, kid, or puppy, and its nest is, most of the time, built in the midst of bones.
In the Far East, before rifles were invented, falcons were kept, fed, trained, and taught to hunt such birds as the crane, pigeons, ducks, geese and barnyard fowls, and the many little feathered fellows, that live in the woods and swamps. Men would go in among the rushes and the bushes, and drive out, from the covert, both the smaller and larger birds. Out in the fields, or on the hills, the falconer would be in waiting to let his trained birds fly at them, with beak and talons.
One man carried around his waist a wide hoop, kept a foot or so out from his body, and held by a strap from his shoulders. On this hoop, were a half dozen or so trained falcons, with their eyes covered by little caps or hoods held down over their heads. As soon as a bird was seen, the hunter would take off the hood and let one of the trained falcons free.
Flying straight up, high in the air, and swiftly descending, swooping down and striking the bird in the neck, with its sharp beak, the falcons brought down the game to their masters, until the hunting bags were full. Women, as well as men, loved this sport, and it was a gay sight, when a cavalcade of ladies and gentlemen, as they issued from the castle, and all on horseback, went out for a hunt, while the gamekeepers with the falcons and bush-beaters, with the dogs, followed. The men on foot carried a spear, in case they should meet a bear, or wild boar. On their return, the hunting party would have a feast in the castle.
Now it was the belief, in Asia, that a good person, after his death, was born again in another world, and became a still holier being or even an angel. But a bad person, after his death, if he had been a tale-bearer or deceitful, or told lies, would be changed into a snake. If he had been stupid, he might become a sheep or donkey, or a mule. Or, if he or she had been too proud, each was reborn as a peacock; if cruel, into a tiger or a hawk.
There were many girls in Japan, named Taka, which means a hawk, because of their bad temper, or their cruelty to puppies or kittens. Sometimes, however, the name was a compliment, because they were quick and smart, like falcons.
Now, according to these ideas, there was a very hard-hearted man, named Chicksha, who beat his children. When angry, he threw dishes at his wife and cursed his servants. One day, when in a fit of bad temper, he fell dead. No one was sorry, and some were even glad.
After this event, whenever people saw a falcon, with terrible shining eyes, and beak as sharp as two razors, and with claws and talons, like a steel meat hook, they said, “It must be Chicksha, come to life again.” Then they all ran out of their houses to see a thing so wonderful.
After they had become used to the sight, they noticed, one day, that the terrible creature had unfolded its wings, spread them out wide, and flown westward. After awhile, this falcon had soared so high and so far, that, in the distance, it became nothing more than a speck on the blue horizon. Then it disappeared behind the mountains. At this, everybody clapped their hands with delight. In fact, some of the more pious went to the village shrine and gave thanks to Great Buddha, for ridding the neighborhood of such a pest.
On wings, which seemed to be tireless, this bird of evil flew on and on, farther and farther away, until in a strange land, it perched, tired and hungry, on a very high rock, beneath which was a lordly castle.
In this stronghold lived a count and countess, in whose castle-yard was a skillful gamekeeper, whose ring of falcons was the most noted in all the land. Flying down among the falcons, the soul of Chicksha, now a hunting bird, at once felt at home among these winged creatures, that fed on the blood of their fellows.
When taken out on hawking expeditions, few, even of the strongest falcons, equaled, and none excelled, Chicksha, in striking down, what the good Saint Francis called, “our little brothers of the air.” So Chicksha became the favorite of his owner, the Count.
But one day, tired of being hooded and kept inactive in the cages, in the castle yard, or, when taken out on the hoop and often, when hooded, kept from having the chance to kill and cause suffering, Chicksha, the falcon, leaped up from its keeper, when its cap dropped off, and flew away. Proud of its freedom, the bird never stopped, until it perched upon a mountain named the Wülpelsberg, in Switzerland.
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