Inside language

Falconry has its own language, as most human endeavors do. Helen Macdonald writes about it in her book H Is for Hawk.

Hawks don't wipe their beaks, she tells us. They feak. They don't defecate. Rather they mute. They rouse when they shake themselves. Their wings are sails. Their claws are pounces. Their tails are trains. The line  attached a bird in training is called a creance. And so on.

Jargon like this is used partly because it is useful. Those who train hawks and other raptors know exactly what they are talking about when they use such language. There is less room for misunderstanding.

But just as important, perhaps, is that jargon bestows exclusivity to those on the inside. There's something appealing about clubs and lodges with secret passwords and private rituals. Those on the inside know something that those on the outside do not know. They are special somehow.

The allure of the speakeasy was probably more than just the liquor. It was also knowing how to get in.

Macdonald says as much in her book. "Knowing your falconry terminology attested to your place in society," she writes. At one time one had to be a member of the highest social class to own a falcon or hawk. The terminology underscored class differences. Ordinary people didn't understand what you were talking about, and that was the point.