The red mastiffs of Tartary, almost as large as donkeys, with
broad backs and straight legs, were destined for the pursuit of
the wild bull. The black coats of the spaniels shone like satin;
the barking of the setters equalled that of the beagles. In a
special enclosure were eight growling bloodhounds that tugged at
their chains and rolled their eyes, and these dogs leaped at men's
throats and were not afraid even of lions.

All ate wheat bread, drank from marble troughs, and had
high-sounding names.

Perhaps the falconry surpassed the pack; for the master of the
castle, by paying great sums of money, had secured Caucasian
hawks, Babylonian sakers, German gerfalcons, and pilgrim falcons
captured on the cliffs edging the cold seas, in distant lands.
They were housed in a thatched shed and were chained to the perch
in the order of size. In front of them was a little grass-plot
where, from time to time, they were allowed to disport themselves.

Bag-nets, baits, traps and all sorts of snares were manufactured.

Often they would take out pointers who would set almost
immediately; then the whippers-in, advancing step by step, would
cautiously spread a huge net over their motionless bodies. At the
command, the dogs would bark and arouse the quails; and the ladies
of the neighbourhood, with their husbands, children and hand-maids,
would fall upon them and capture them with ease.

At other times they used a drum to start hares; and frequently