"Falconry is not a hobby or an amusement: it is a rage. You eat it and drink it, sleep it and think it. You tremble to write of it, even in recollection. It is, as King James the First remarked, an extreme stirrer of passions." T.H. White

The Godstone and Blackymor, 1959 (First American Edition) Van Rees Press, New York, page 18.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Nov. 12 - A Taste for Duck

Friday morning Rebel and I drove up to Florence to meet up with a fellow apprentice and his buds, both of whom fly Harris’ Hawks and falcons.  Rebel was a little high at 38.7 but looking eager so before the others arrived, my buddy and I hit one of his favorite squirrel spots to get things started.  Rebel was quickly in the air and doing his typical scanning of his new surroundings.  He flew to a couple of perches and would stare but nothing much was moving.

I decided that I would just walk ahead and try to scare something up and let him follow.  He was a bit slow to follow at first but then I heard his bells and figured he was right behind me.  The bells sounded a little distant and constant, not the jingling you normally hear when he is getting settled on a perch but I didn’t think too much of it.  I looked up when I saw a shadow pass over and saw a big Red Tail circling over us.  It was a beautiful graceful bird with just a hint of red in its tail as the sun shone through it.  I figured it was a haggard bird.  With all of the run-in’s Rebel has had with hags, I decided that I had better get him down and move on a bit.  I stepped out into a clearing looking for my bird and garnishing the glove when that Red Tail took a stoop and dove into the tree just ahead and to the left of me!   Crap!  I thought it was diving on Rebel!

Not so much.  It WAS Rebel.  Yup.  He was soaring for the first time with me and the dive resulted in a beautiful helicopter to the ground carrying a big buck squirrel in his talons!  I was so pumped.  Until he landed. 

On landing, he promptly let go of said squirrel who quite literally jumped two feet in the air, startling my bird, landed on the other side of Rebel and scampered up a tree! I don’t know if the damned thing bit him or why he let go.  It was weird.  I could tell he was a little frustrated but he winged up and crashed a fir tree about twenty yards away missing another squirrel by inches.  About that time we got a call from our comrades and we had to pack it up.

We met up with an extremely nice and talented pair of falconers and headed out to an open field area where we planned to fly an eyass  Gyr / Saker and a breeding peregrine on some pen raised mallards.  We decided to see if Rebel wanted to try as well.

I put him up in a perch right on the tree line and he was appropriately attentive.  Al had a new bird launcher, and had already loaded a mallard.  On the release, Rebel knew exactly what to do.  He bolted at that bird like a bullet and hit it in the head before it could make it to ground.  He then turned on a dime and came right back, latching on to the back of the duck and walking up its back to its head.  He got a bit of a thrashing from the wings before I could get there and give him a hand, but he didn’t seem to mind.

He had recognized that mallard instantly as prey.  I am not sure if he had had the luck to have parents who had previously entered him on ducks as game, but he behaved as if it was not he first time he had seen them.  I was pretty psyched.  Al flew his RT, Goose, on another bird successfully, and then we started with the falcons.

They were truly majestic to watch.  The steep banks and flares, the stoops and wheels…  It was fun to see.  The new eyass was having a bit of a problem on the attack but his flight was beautiful.

Meanwhile, Rebel is macking down on some sweet Thai Duck.  I had picked up his kill with him still attached and walked him over to the truck to let him crop up.  He dragged the duck into the bushes while the other birds flew.  He was a mantling beast and ate like his typical hoggish self.  The only difference was that this time it was all meat.  I finally had to trade him off on the lure with a doc on it to get him to leave the kill.  By this time, he looked like Mr. Creosote from Monty Python, but he still jumped to the lure like that starving kid from Africa that my mom always sent my carrots to when I was a kid.

I put the glutton in the giant hood and had to head home since we were leaving town.  I would have loved to see the cast of HH’s fly but I could hardly ask for more than what I got to see this day.  Amazing! 

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