Saturday morning I woke up and got Rebel out of his mews with the dawn. Just like last time, he roused himself, stepped gently to the glove and fluffed up against the cold. I have found that I love the morning time with this bird. The frosted breath and the absolute quiet are a perfect backdrop to the subtle expressions that Rebel shows. In the dim early morning light, when this bird is getting past being his most vulnerable, the trust he shows in stepping to the glove is truly awe inspiring. The gentle way he steps to me in these moments, such a departure from the flurry when he is driven by hunting instincts and hunger, might be the some of the singular most poignant moments encountered so far in my falconry experience.
That has to be put into a bit of perspective. His flights are exquisitely beautiful and I have an album of still frame photos in my mind of his most memorable flights into knotholes, high stoops vertically down to the glove, and of course the helicopters down after catching a squirrel. These moments are deeply profound as well, but in them I am more of a spectator. In the silence of the morning with the crisp air making me so much more awake and aware, the softness of his feathers mixes with the veil of my visible breath and it seems we are both just a little more aware of each other outside of our respective roles in the hunt.
After weighing him in and getting him in the giant hood, I headed over and picked up a friend and his son and we headed down to Georgetown
As soon as he was up, we began hearing the unhappy cry of a Red-Shouldered Hawk nearby who was a bit miffed at having to share her hunting spot. This didn’t seem to affect Rebel much as he completely ignored her and continued to search for prey. I found myself following Rebel more than the reverse in this new expanse.
As we came up on the first slew, we got up about five wood ducks that quickly sparked Rebel’s attention. He had been lagging pretty far behind but he came forward to investigate. No chase though. Since he was showing interest, we thought we would try to arrange a slip for him a bit later. We had no sooner turned around when we saw Rebel zipping low through the woods towards the ground. He disappeared behind a small dike and the tell-tale jingle of his bells told me he was on something.
That something was squirrel number 6, caught playing low on the forest floor. I don’t think he ever saw Rebel coming. Rebel had a text book perfect grip on his head and chest. I made in and helped dispatch and traded him off with a DOC. Best trade off so far. While he went to work on the chick, I covered and secured his prize, a one pound buck grey squirrel. He was almost immediately back on the fist and ready to go again.
He did circle back looking for that squirrel once, but then stayed with us to hunt. Once again, he was lagging way behind. He was acting a bit odd as he is usually loathe to let me completely out of site, but he did on this day. In retrospect, I believe that he knew where we were the entire time, we just couldn’t see him as the canopy was quite thick.
We circled back to try a new slew for a duck slip when Rebel crossed a small creek in hot pursuit of his second squirrel of the day. He chased it through three trees right in front of us and I thought he had it on the ground but apparently the blasted thing scurried into a hole just before Rebel could engage. As we approached the next slew, Rebel seemed to know just what to do and he flew on ahead and perched on the edge of the slew. This would usually serve to keep the ducks on the water, but they heard us coming and all but one took flight. Rebel was not yet in position so he did not give chase. He did work his way around the slew towards the lone wood duck that was left behind which was pretty impressive.
I went all the way around the slew in hopes of flushing the duck back in Rebel’s direction, and it actually worked just as I had hoped except for one small thing. Rebel didn’t give chase. That surprised me a bit. He was in pretty good position from what I could see but I think he was still trying to figure out if this new big thing was prey or not. We decided we had better pack it in as I had to be at work so we started to head back to the car when Rebel gave an energetic chase to yet another squirrel. He hit the trees so hard after this squirrel I thought for sure he must have been hurt twice, but nope, right back in the air after the squirrel. He caught it just off the ground near the edge of the creek feeding the slew we were in but the cursed varmint wriggled free and disappeared into a hole. Rebel was pissed. We searched for a while trying to reflush that squirrel but it was either too smart or too hurt to make a run.
Justin and Walker had traversed the slew from the opposite direction and came to a narrow creek that they had to step across to meet up with me. Justin decided in his parental wisdom that he would be more effective just throwing Walker Walker
We headed back to the car with a frustrated Rebel perched high in the pines, and a slightly soggy 11 year old in tow. Rebel wasn’t following very well again so I decided I would go on ahead to the car and call him blind to the lure. For the very first time, it didn’t work! I was a bit nervous as we headed back to find him. In truth we were REALLY far away, but I had thought he would follow somewhat. He was still where we had left him and he came right to the lure when visible. At that moment, I found out what the trouble was. A haggard female Red Tail soared right overhead. Apparently she and Rebel had been checking each other out for some time and that was why Rebel was acting a bit off.
Rebel went right on the leash after this and we walked to the car much to his chagrin. He wanted to fly more but after our last encounter with a hag, I was not about to let him out of sight or touch. I said a prayer of thanks, praised my bird for not picking a fight, and we loaded up and headed home.
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