"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.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Dec 31- Wee Tee Farm

Well today was supposed to be all about the kids, but I managed to slip a little bit of falconry in anyway.  I packed up all of the kids and their friends along with roughly three tons of paintball gear and headed out to my neighbor’s farm for a little paintball fun.  This could probably be more accurately described as therapy for dads who really want to shoot their kids but can’t seem to find the time…

I had stayed up the night before filling bottles and organizing gear and stuff so I was a bit tired but the coffee was good.  I had decided to take Rebel out there with me as this place has more abundant game than any place I think I have ever been outside of Mississippi.  This is a large tract of land that is managed for hunting with a little farmland thrown in.  Mostly, the farm land is just for raising corn for the deer and dove.  It is a hunter’s paradise with a great little lake dotted with Cyprus trees where the wood ducks congregate, tons of briar patches and dense cover areas for rabbits and quail, food in abundance for all game, and a squirrel nest on every other tree.

Well we had more kids than guns, so I, ever so self-sacrificing, offered up my gun.  After getting them all set up, I headed out with Rebel and Addie.  My buddy decided we needed to hit the lake first to look for the ducks, so he had me jump on his fourwheeler, bird on the fist and drove us up there.  Rebel did not know what to think.   We were going at a modest clip and she would spread her wings like she knew she should be flying.  A few times, she left the fist and sort of hovered / glided beside us.  She kept looking at me like, “Dude…”

We got to the lake and my buddy headed back.  Rebel, Addie, and I wound our way around the lake.  Not too far up I saw ducks on the water and I crouched down.  I got Rebel up in to position and waited for her to see them.  She was looking so I slowly made my way on up for the flush.  The ducks weren’t moving so I started to send Addie in to get em up when Rebel took off further up, abandoning the pitch.  WTF?  I stood up expecting the ducks to flush but nothing.  Apparently plastic duck decoys do not fly well without extreme provocation.

Sigh.  As we rounded the next corner, Rebel went on alert pitching forward like she was about to take off and I quickly learned why.  Three rather large geese waddled into the water right ahead of us.  I say rather large as you would when describing the national debt or an expansive mountain range.  These birds were huge!  Corn fed geese be damned, these were the geese that ate the corn fed geese.  Even Addie was intimidated for a minute, which in dog years is a very long time.  It didn’t last long as she was quickly running right at them and barking like a raving lunatic.  They started beating a course through the water making nice V ripples behind them that looked as if they should have come from behind my john boat. 

Brilliant dog that I have raised, she headed right into the water after them.  I swear, that dog would have chased the creature from the black lagoon into the water if she could.  I started to call her name, but knowing it wouldn’t make any difference, I decided the time would be better served taking off my coat and divesting myself of my cell phone and other electronic devices as I was sure a trip into the water to fend the geese off of my dog was immanent.  Amazingly, the geese were scared of her.  She actually got them up into the air and circling over the pond.  She paddled back to me, tongue lolling out so proud of herself.  Good girl.

Oh No.  Rebel.  I gave myself whiplash wrenching my neck around to make sure Rebel was still on perch in the tree and not chasing these behemoths.  Whew.  She just sat there and stared at us like “What?  You didn’t seriously expect me to chase after that did you?  Just because I hang out with two idiots doesn’t mean I am one too…”

Okay, enough of the lake.  I started beating the brush in the tall grass and cornfield, trying scare up a rabbit.  Addie was running totally amok by now all amped by her self-titled victory over the geese from hell, so she was no good. I got nothing moving by the time I had crossed the field a few times and by now, my bird is in a tall tree four hundred yards away showing no signs of leaving that perch.  Okay, I can tell when I am licked.  I called her to the lure and she flew high over the field, soaring a tad looking over the cornrows before diving in on her dinner. 

I leashed her up and headed back to paintball central.  Rebel was put up in the giant hood to digest her meal and I joined the epic struggle between good and evil.  I would like to say that I was instrumental in my side’s crushing defeat of the enemy.  I would like to but it would be as far from factual truth as cable news is from actual news.  Nope,  I charged in leading my outnumbered forces in the attack only to find that the battery on my trigger was sporked so my gun wouldn’t work.  MmmHmm.  I don't make this stuff up.  I dove behind a log and quickly received about ten special deliveries to various anatomical parts that don’t sound so good when paired with the adjective “splattered”.

Thank goodness that the football game was coming on and all the Dad's were well decompressed from taking out their frustrations on the kids.  I was able to beat a hasty retreat with no further humiliation.  And to think, I actually plan and set up these activities.  I am pretty sure my well educated wife would label me a defeatist or a masochist or something.  Where I am from, we just call it being plain stupid…

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