"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.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Dec. 4 – Ping Pong


As I type, Rebel is assuredly nursing the equivalent of a hawk headache, I know I am.  What a hunt today!  I have never seen this bird hunt and fly as hard as he did today.  Nothing to show for it but some stories, but at least he got a good crop for his efforts.

Rebel was weighing 41.5 oz today or about 1175 grams.  He has been weird at this weight before.  He has had both some of his best hunts as well as some of his worst hunts at this weight so I did not know what to expect.  On a good note, the weather was exceptional with a bright cloudless sky and temps in the forties.  On a better note, I got to hunt with my baby girl.

Brynn accompanied me to pick up some quail for the new recall pen from our nearby quail club.  It was funny when the gnarled elderly gentleman who took us back to the flight pens opened the door and told Brynn to “Go get ‘em!”  The look on her face was priceless.  Hundreds of quail flying all around her and she just looked at me like “Really?”

After quail, we had lunch and headed out to a very reliable squirrel spot very close to home and a very easy walk.  Rebel was flying hard from the beginning.  He would shoot ahead and then double back.  There were squirrels everywhere.  I chased one into the swamp trying to get it into a tree for Rebel and somehow lost my glove.  I didn’t realize this until we were long past and I was calling Rebel back from a tree across the slew.  When I realized that the glove was missing, we started backtracking to look for it but I didn’t have much hope.  A brown glove on the ground in the fall…  I walked right by it but Brynn saved the day by spotting it.  Whew!  This was a custom glove by Traditions Glove that I think fit my hand better than my own skin.  Sure Brynn, I realize that you are only 10 but yes, you can have the keys to the car to go do some shopping...

Right after that Rebel chased a young squirrel in to a tall scrub oak and at the top, two more sprang in different directions.  Rebel was bouncing back and forth between trees chasing all of them.  Each time he focused on one, another would move and he would crash that tree.  Then another would move and he would hit the other tree, ad nauseum.  It was pretty funny to watch, but Rebel was getting frustrated.  Each of the little guys made it to a safe knothole by confusing the poor bird so bad his head was spinning. 

The amazing thing was that we had three more slips like this!  Each time, Rebel had his attention diverted by multiple targets.  As we made it back towards the car, things just got worse.  As we got back to Al’s house, there were squirrels everywhere!  There were four on the ground as we walked up and another five in the trees!  It was like a damned rodent convention!  I would focus on a pair in one tree getting them moving only to look up and see Rebel on a different pair in another tree!  I would run over to help Rebel and he would jet to another tree where a squirrel was standing on its head sticking out his tongue at the hawk.   Then another would run down the tree right over Brynn’s head so I would run over there just in time to see Rebel sticking his head fruitlessly inside yet another knothole paying me no attention at all!  It was bizarre!

We both ended up with a headache, and Brynn was just laughing at us while she played in the leaves.  I finally called Rebel to the fist and we tucked tail and ran.  As I drove off, I think I heard them laughing at me…  No, I don’t need medicine…

This bird probably flew harder than I have ever seen.  He was winded when I put him up and I gave him an extra duck leg for his efforts.  I know I had a headache when I walked inside after whipping my head side-to-side and craning up in fifty different trees.  I am sure Rebel did too.  I am pretty sure neither of us would be complaining though if we had come home with just one of the little buggers…

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