Picturing the Hunt

I was particularly taken by the visual richness of the Gaston Phoebus manuscript we looked at for our last meeting.  The illustrations are so plentiful and so lavishly colorful that one scarcely needs to read the text of the manuscript to understand that hunting was not merely a practical concern but a primary passion of the manuscript’s commissioner.  A number of aspects of the manuscript’s presentation grabbed me, and I bring them up here not so much to illuminate (no pun intended) as to propose different angles of inquiry from which one could interrogate this document.

It was interesting to me that unlike Frederick II’s treatise on falconry, this text was composed in the vernacular.  The later medieval tendency toward vernacular composition notwithstanding, I found myself wondering whether the animals, vegetation, and terrains depicted in the manuscript were “vernacular” as well—that is, whether they were indicative of Gaston Phoebus’s surroundings in the same way that the manuscript’s use of French points to shifts in contemporary society and discourse.  The mountain crags featured in the illustrations depicting wild stags and mountain goats, though stylized and lacking in sufficient detail to enable the viewer to situate them geographically, would seem to be consistent with the terrain of Gaston’s portion of the southern French Pyrenees region.  Furthermore, the text does not deal with imported or exotic (or mythical, for that matter) animals but rather focuses on species that would have been found in Gaston’s immediate environs. 

Medieval and Montana Hunting Access

During Friday’s class, we discussed the motives for hunting:  killing animals because of their potential threat; the role of hunting as a social experience; culling; and the thrill or prestige of the hunt.  Clearly, in the Middle Ages, hunting and falconry were activities to showcase one’s power and prestige. However, in our discussions, we never focused on the role land access plays into this equation involving hunting and its way to prove one’s nobility.  While accessibility may have been only one of many factors contributing to hunting being an ennobling activity, I believe it cannot be overlooked in the Middle Ages or today.

The N.J. Sykes article, “The Impact of Normans on Hunting Practices in England” helps me better understand the importance of hunting access. Wild animals belong to no one; but the property they live on often is private. Thus, the private and pubic domains are both in play when it comes to privately owned hunting land and wild animals. This is an increasingly contentious topic in my home state of Montana where wealthy non-residents are buying up prime hunting land and purchasing state licenses that are heavily restricted due to high costs.

The Itsy Bitsy Idea Went Up...

Towards the end of class, Professor Fulton Brown noted that Christ and hunting were often associated. Although many heroic figures were hunters (and some biblical figures), the Church condemned hunting and the literary tradition turned to a rhetoric in which Jesus was preylike and evil was "hunting" good souls.

It struck me that perhaps this rhetoric of Jesus-as-prey isn't so absurd after all. Although hunters had historically been glorified, Christ and prey have one thing in common - the necessity of the death. I don't know much about medieval theology, but I have always been under the impression that the death of Christ was theologically necessary. It was necessary both because he was a human (and thus mortal) and also in the sense of needing to die for man's sins so other people can achieve salvation. Similarly, we discussed that hunting wasn't just about the thrill of the chase - it was also about the results. These results ranged from meat and skins to increased safety (in the case of crop pests or dangerous animals). In these ways (for both peasants who were hunting for food and nobles who were hunting for glory and security), the death of the animal is necessary.

However, this necessity doesn't alter the veneration of the animal. We talked in class about how animals like the stag were regarded with some respect, unlike the more common 'stinky' animals. We've already covered that nature and animals commanded respect both as messages from God showing his plan and necessary to certain lifestyles (both in the sense of taking good care of one's farm animals and in the good training of noble animals like the falcon and the horse). The highly ritualized form of the kill (at least in noble hunting) also gives the animal respect - it wouldn't exactly bring glory to the noble in question to slay a rabbit, everyone involved has to recognize that the person is slaying a respectable animal.

To get to the point (which I intended to only write a paragraph about!): Perhaps the entire Christ-as-prey and vice versa in medieval literature came about because the people involved recognized that in both instances a respected creature must die for the good of society.

So, does this make sense to anyone? Was this just a good way of relating theology to real life or did it have an impact on the consciences of hunters?

Hunting the Wolf

Today’s discussion about the nobility of hunting really sparked an interest within me to look deeper into the reasons behind the numerous wolf hunts t hat occurred within the Middle Ages. We know from the discussion today that there were several purposes attributed to the hunting of animals. In most cases the purpose of the hunt was the chase in itself, culminating within the equally important kill and ceremonial dismemberment. Sometimes animals were hunted for their meat, i.e. the poachers that we read about for today, or the nobles and huntsmen were just trying to keep the populations down within the deer parks and warrens (culling). Most other hunters justified their hunting activities by stating that they were eliminating other predators, especially the wolf, which is typically personified to be evil amongst society within the Middle Ages. This final observation got me thinking, was it really necessary to hunt and kill all those wolves just on the pretense that they were evil and therefore harmful to others?

Some Reflections on Fred

           After the class discussion on Wednesday, I decided to go back and examine more closely some key passages in Frederick the II’s De Arte Venandi cum Avibus. What resulted was a series of reflections, the attempt to reproduce which you can read below:

[N.B. All my quotes are taken from Frederick II of Hohenstaufen, The Art of Falconry, trans. and ed. Casey E. Wood and F. Marjorie Fyfe (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1943).]

One of the issues raised in class was whether it is the noble that really practices falconry (including caring for the falcons) or the hired help? how does this affect the idea that falconry is a noble art? lastly, what is the dynamic between the master falconer and the noble, when they are out on the field, and the noble is being instructed? One fact that occurred to me upon rereading the prologue is that Frederick himself is a master of falconry. I think it would be unfair for us to assume that many nobles were not equally, or even more advanced in the art and caring for falcons than were the hired falconers. He writes, “We beg every nobleman who by reason of his rank should be interested in the contents of this work to order it read and explained to him by a master of the science” (4). It is true that nobles were often taught this “noble art” by non-nobles. But the latter quote suggests that the nobles aimed to become as skilled as the professional falconers. Again, we must not assume that the nobles were necessarily less skilled or involved in the art.

American Falconry

Yesterday’s class got me thinking about the continuation of falconry in the United States. Frederick II’s insistence that the very act of training the bird was the noblest part of the sport got me wondering how falconers in the contemporary United States view it. It is definitely considered a sport, which is a rather nebulous term these days, with a meaning loosely connected to some form of athletic activity. How many people actually consider hunting a “sport” versus how many consider it a leisure activity or a cruel hangover from a more violent world? Also, is curling a sport? Croquet? Table tennis? Competitive eating? Falconry, it seems then, has been tossed into the mix with these many activities we can’t find a category for. But then again, what was the meaning of “sport” in the medieval ages? It seems to be equally ambivalent and perhaps even more nebulous, encompassing all leisure activity.

            But the “sport” aspect of falconry – condemned by the Church if done in excess and (ineffectively) forbidden to members of the clergy – was not what made it noble. Frederick’s long treatise could have easily been titled “The Art of the Science of the Sport of Hunting with Birds.” As we learn from Frederick, “the actual taking of prey should be a secondary consideration.”[1] The laborious, painstaking method for training birds of prey is the most important consideration. The nobility in falconry is found in the fact that “it is far more difficult and requires more ingenuity to teach raptorial birds the stratagems of hawking than to instruct dogs or wild quadrupeds to hunt.”[2] If, by Frederick’s time, the “art” of falconry was so tied up in nobility and so intent on claiming its status as the noblest of all sports, how does it survive in our (ostensibly) classless and anti-elitist society?

            I didn’t want to drop the money for a modern falconry textbook, but I found this article about a woman starting up a falconry class in New Hampshire. The way some of the aspects of falconry are described betray how drastically different our modern sensibilities have made our views on the sport. The writer of the article feels it necessary to assure us that the falcons get a meal, whether or not they actually catch their prey, and that “the leather hood that fits over the bird’s head actually calms the bird down.”[3] The article also emphasizes that the training techniques employed to prepare the birds for hunting “simply use the birds’ instincts to train them.”[4] This particular tidbit was especially interesting in light of our discussion in class over how bizarre it was that the bird’s instincts seemed to be radically redirected or limited by the training they underwent. Frederick and others of his ilk cared about the birds’ treatment only as it related to their efficiency. “Animal cruelty” would not have struck a chord with medieval contemporaries. Even if it did, should they have wanted to write a moral treatise about it, they would have had to sacrifice a flock of sheep to do so.

            There seems to be very little emphasis on the actual training process in the article. The actual act of hunting with the bird was the star of the show. According to the woman who opened up her falconry school in the area, the most exciting part of falconry was the fact that it involves an unpredictable wild animal, so you never know that might happen. The article does go into detail about the demanding nature of caring for and training the birds – Nancy Cowan, who runs the school, has to spend six hours with them per day and can’t even answer the phone when she is with them! But the main event is that the school offers guided hunts for those who don’t have the time to go through a two-year apprenticeship and become a master falconer. The highlight of these events are the aeronautic displays of the birds themselves – people are incredibly entertained by their grace and break-neck speed. The prey isn’t even mentioned in this part of the article, which, curiously, seems to agree with Frederick that the catching of prey is a secondary consideration.

            This is, however, amazingly different from the exclusive noble nature of medieval falconry. Suddenly it has become a spectacle – a sort of avian dolphin show, which anybody can participate in for a nominal fee. If you want to just see them fly around and kill something, you can go watch it once. If you get interested and want to actually learn how to do it, you can take a class. If you have a child that seems to be lacking in extracurricular activities, you can sign them up for falconry 101, “for younger students, kids aged 13-17.”[5] Falconry is suddenly an all-inclusive, albeit obscure, spectator sport for anyone with a passing interest. Frederick would be appalled, and he wasn’t easy to appall. The noblest feature of falconry has been at best played down and at worst painted as an eccentric waste of time that makes a mildly amusing spectacle possible.

            A quick glance at the Falconry Academy's website seems to confirm this newer version of falconry’s interest in romanticizing the hunt itself over the training. The website’s introduction tries to share the intoxicating feeling of the hunt with some scene setting:

Picture yourself walking through a field hitting every piece of brush, trying to flush out rabbits. Your Harris Hawk is following you from tree to tree, waiting and anticipating the flushing of game. Suddenly a rabbit breaks from the brush, the hawk quickly takes off, and turns to chase the rabbit in aggressive pursuit. Eventually the rabbit out maneuvers the hawk, he turns in mid-air and returns to your glove for a small reward. This is falconry…[6]

Take a moment to resituate yourself in the real world after that piece of riveting prose. Does that sound like Frederick to you? Additionally, the website tells us that, though the sport is practiced by a very small, dedicated population of people, the goal of The Falconry & Raptor Education Foundation is to educate more people on the true nature of the sport so that it will grow stronger, popular, and better understood. Their desire for falconry to be practiced properly is no doubt in line with Frederick’s undertaking, but the websites ideal of exposing “a wide variety of people to falconry,” including local fifth graders, might coax a scoff out of the Holy Roman Emperor.

            Thus, falconry in our modern age is a very different beast (pun very much intended) than its medieval counterpart. The art of training the falcon is assuredly as time-consuming and demanding as it always has been, but it is not by itself the point of falconry. Between Frederick II and Nancy Cowan, romanticism reared its rather attractive head and seems to have stuck around for the long haul. Hunting with falcons is a way to connect with, or marvel at, nature. It is by no means a way to prove one’s nobility. To portray someone with a falcon on his/her arm now would indicate eccentricity, not nobility. The picture of the falconer is that of an enigmatic figure practicing an ancient art for the sake of its awe-inspiring beauty and the connection to nature it provides.

Dan F.

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[1] Frederick II of Hohenstaufen, The Art of Falconry, trans. and ed. Casey E. Wood and F. Marjorie Fyfe (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1943), 105.

[2] Ibid, 6.

[3] Spencer Baselice, The Heart of New England, October 28, 2010. <http://www.theheartofnewengland.com/travel/nh/falconry-school.html>

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid

[6] http://www.falconryacademy.com/

Nobility and Falconry

For the first time we get a complete treatise and an entire section in Albertus on Falconry with vivid descriptions of the actual birds, as if they were looking at them. Our previous readings have been less detailed on the actual care of the animal and rather more about the social aspects, or picking a servant to do the work then moving towards a discussion of the monetary values of the animal. For example we did not read about the details of an oxen or the eye color of a sheep. These readings were definitely unique in this sense; the authors had experience and were confident in their knowledge of the actual birds. Therefore, what struck me most from the readings, Frederick II and Albertus, was that there is a definite connection between the nobility and falconry. Why this is surprising to me, I am not sure. We have already read about rabbit warrens, artificial fish ponds, and large flocks of sheep that help flaunt the wealth of nobles. Why are these birds so unique and so important? For one Frederick is compelled to write on them in great detail.  

Proper Falconry

For those who are curious about what it is like to fly a falcon, from the many offerings available on YouTube,

an English falconer shows off his birds;

falcons and eagles hunt rabbits (in Germany?);

and falcons go duck hunting in Oklahoma.

RLFB

Luxury Animals and Selective Breeding

This week, selective breeding appears to be invading my life. On Thursday, I received a catalog from Heifer International, a charity that does great work giving animals to the international poor to improve their diet and economic circumstances. Part of the program is that the gift of a goat/cow/sheep will create a self-replicating cycle of improvement as the animals give birth and the new animals are given or sold to other poor families. So imagine my surprise when Heifer asked me to send them $120 so they could send two female goats to a family in need.

This reminded me of a scene from The King and I, the Rogers and Hammerstein musical. The King of Siam decides to send a pair of male elephants to America to help President Lincoln win the Civil War. When Anna, a British schoolteacher, suggests that perhaps two male elephants would not provide Lincoln an army of elephants, the king agrees and decides to send two female elephants.

In the modern world, these are amusing errors. However, they represent a belief that modern people should understand the basics of breeding. Looking at our recent readings, I was surprised how suddenly modern-style selective breeding made an appearance. Walter of Henley, for example, barely gives any advice on how animals should be bred. Although he acknowledges pigs and sheep should be “sorted”, he gives no advice on how to pick out the better stock or how they could be induced to breed and produce better offspring ¹. This is in context of relatively extensive discussions on the proper feeding, housing, and weaning of animals (particularly cattle). This distinction is particularly pronounced in the case of cattle, where Walter makes no mention of good breeding. Furthermore, he seems to be sure that oxen and horses must be bought, rather than taken from one’s own flock ². Given his apparently large stock of cattle, why would Walter buy oxen unless he didn’t believe high quality oxen and horses could be created by selective breeding?

The Capybara -- Not a Medieval Animal

But somewhat related to the Middle Ages tangentially by way of its acceptability as a food for Lent.


Unit of Measure by Sandra Beasley

All can be measured by the standard of the capybara.
Everyone is lesser than or greater than the capybara.
Everything is taller or shorter than the capybara.
Everything is mistaken for a Brazilian dance craze
more or less frequently than the capybara.
Everyone eats greater or fewer watermelons
than the capybara. Everyone eats more or less bark.
Everyone barks more than or less than the capybara,
who also whistles, clicks, grunts, and emits what is known
as his alarm squeal. Everyone is more or less alarmed
than a capybara, who—because his back legs
are longer than his front legs—feels like
he is going downhill at all times.
Everyone is more or less a master of grasses
than the capybara.

Why The Rabbit But Not The Hare?

One of my biggest questions about the whole rabbit fondness in Medieval England is that the hare is native and plentiful on the island. So why did the medieval Norman gentry feel the need to import rabbits? I started by doing a little quick research on the common differences between the two because that might help explain the Normans desire to import the rabbits rather than hunt the hares.

Both hares and rabbits belong to the same Linnaean classification family - Leporidae - and both are plentiful, quick breeders and adaptable to a wide variety of environments.[1] (FYI: apparently the terms “harlot”, “whore” and “hare” all meant pretty much the same thing in Middle English and came from the same root[2]) The hare and the rabbit are both edible and can be prepared in the same fashion; they are both low in fat content and carry the same health issues for those eating the meat. They both feed on the same things, feed at night, live in the same areas, have the same enemies, and both have sensitive ears, nose, and quick speed.[3]

Major differences between the hare and the rabbit include the fact that hares are born with fur and open eyes, unlike rabbits. Hares are solitary and live in nests above ground while rabbits are communal and live in burrows below ground. Hares are larger and heavier than rabbits and consequently can jump further, than a rabbit and keep up their speed for longer periods of time. Many of the hares turn white in the winter while rabbits keep the same color fur all year round. Since I have been a vegetarian since I was 11 I have never eaten either but the hare supposedly has a gamier flavor than the rabbit. Probably the most major difference between the two is that the hare has not been domesticated while the rabbit has been domesticated in Europe since at least the Romans.[4]

Species-oriented sources

Tournament Cat, 2008

Since we're all doing our bibliographies right now, I thought it might be helpful to mention Reaktion Books' animal series:http://www.reaktionbooks.co.uk/series.html?id=1

I have Pigeon and Moose, and have found them to be a great starting-point for species-oriented research. Lots of images, nice, long bibliographies, and relatively un-embarrassing bus-reading.

And if you need a break, check out some more of Jeff de Boer's cat and mouse armor.

Clean vs. Unclean

Hello Hello,

I didn't have time to ask this question earlier because we ran out of time.

As a Seventh-Day Adventist, Leviticus 11 pretty much defines my diet. I personally approach this passage from the perspective of a modern, health-conscientious person, but nonetheless, I've had extensive bible studies on the theological implications of one's choice of diet.

My question is: did these dietary laws have any impact on daily food comsumption in the Middle Ages? Did they carry any weight in the medieval conscience? From just looking at the statistics for pork consumption, I would assume that these laws were arbitrary to a medieval peasant. However, in "Fish Consumption in Medieval England," we read that the Church began to place restrictions on meat consumption and fish naturally became a convenient substitute. These dietary restrictions were probably implemented to counter the secularization of monastic lifestyles but did they permeate to other areas of society? If so, to what degree?

Rabbits and Modern History

One of our readings for today being about rabbits, I thought I'd tell you about this narrative-esque documentary film I saw a year ago.

It's called "Rabbit a la Berlin," and relates the story of rabbits who inhabited the space between the two Berlin walls (the Berlin Wall actually consisted of two walls with a space in between), unable to get out and protected from natural predators until 1989. In the film, the story of the Berlin Wall is told from the perspective of these rabbits and is more effective than most documentaries I've seen on this topic. Which, all in all, reminds me of a goal of this course: to understand the Late Middle Ages, and medieval society, through the study of animals.

The Question of Evidence

The fundamental exercise of the medieval historian is teasing a narrative out of an often scattered or incomplete body of evidence.  At our last meeting, we once again discussed some of the problems that evidence (or the lack of it) can pose for the researcher of animals in the Middle Ages.  How should we interpret archaeological findings, for example?  Do medieval animal remains offer us a comprehensive view of the ways in which people and animals during the period encountered one another?

In the case of the latter question, we seemed to agree that it is highly problematic to argue for continuity of animal experience for the whole of medieval Europe going off of isolated archaeological evidence alone.  Nevertheless, an archaeological approach can be extremely useful as a means of filling in gaps in our knowledge stemming from incomplete records or conflicting accounts.  Our readings on rats and the plague were informed by substantial use of archaeological data and epidemiological/statistical modeling.  The findings of these modern scientific approaches were interpreted against the backdrop of more standard forms of medieval historical evidence (writings and art), resulting in novel theories about the relationship between rats and the spread of plague in the fourteenth century.  It seems to me, however, that David E. Davis either undercuts the importance of his own research or underestimates its potential value for the historian when he says that the Rattus rattus’s presence in Europe prior to the outbreak of the plague is of lesser concern to the medievalist than the plague’s consequences (Davis, 468).  Most historians, I would wager, value understanding of the causes behind events just as highly as they do understanding of the consequences of events—but this is just a personal quibble I had with Davis’s presentation.