Manchester, VT
Well, it had to happen. When you determine to try interesting things in life, you're bound sooner or later to encounter The British School of Falconry. I spent a marvelous day here with Rob Waite who runs one of two facilities owned by Emma and Steve Ford dedicated to the art, science and sport of falconry as well as the preservation of these majestic raptors. The other facility is located in Gleneagles, Scotland.
Rob first introduced me to his birds in chambers - including a 24-year-old tawny eagle named Elsie - followed by field familiarization with a glorious Harris Hawk named Ethel. The broadwing Harris Hawks are native to North America, possess a gregarious, relatively social disposition and are the bird of choice in Anglo-American falconry. The longwing falcon itself is the preferred bird in Arabian falconry. The hawks typically team with hunting dogs (pointers to mark game and spaniels to flush it out).
Rob then instructed me in the fine art of handling Ethel, releasing her into flight and then calling her back with the lure of raw meat. Hawks are extraordinarily efficient hunting machines. However, trained hawks are only as willing to hunt as they are hungry. So the key is to keep them on weight and, as a result, just a little hungry. This means that each bird's current and ideal weights are meticulously tracked by Rob and the British School staff.
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Handling a hawk on your arm means making sure that he or she can always see you and that they always face the wind. That explains why I had to walk backwards into the chambers with Ethel to ensure that she remained calm. Otherwise, the hawks will "bate," which means they engage temper tantrums that include hanging upside down like bats. Of course, the bating often starts anyway when they realize they are heading back to the chambers.
After our getting-acquainted session, Rob and I took to the forest for a one-hour "hawk walk" with two more raptors, Wallace and Haggis. The hawks followed us in flight, tracked and attacked prey in the canopy and on the forest floor, and revisited with us every so often when we raised our gloved hands and placed raw meat on the top of our left thumbs. You watch these creatures then soar through the forest and swoop gracefully onto your arm with an abrupt landing that certainly gets your attention. You can feel the pressure of their claws on your arm, which tighten when they hear certain high-pitched sounds some of which, well, I couldn't help making myself.
Falconry probably originated in China around 2000 BC, reaching the United Kingdom around 860 AD. In 1486, The Boke of St. Albans organized the ownership of hawks and falcons by social rank. Falconry is an obscure art and sport, but I find this tutelage uniquely compelling when compared with my "educational" experiences in Shakespearean theater, high-speed racing school, billiards classes, fencing school, Japanese flower-arranging and tea ceremony classes, beermaking, pistol marksmanship and, well, you name it. Perhaps it is something about that precarious relationship with a majestic raptor just one foot from your nose.
Well, it had to happen. When you determine to try interesting things in life, you're bound sooner or later to encounter The British School of Falconry. I spent a marvelous day here with Rob Waite who runs one of two facilities owned by Emma and Steve Ford dedicated to the art, science and sport of falconry as well as the preservation of these majestic raptors. The other facility is located in Gleneagles, Scotland.
Rob first introduced me to his birds in chambers - including a 24-year-old tawny eagle named Elsie - followed by field familiarization with a glorious Harris Hawk named Ethel. The broadwing Harris Hawks are native to North America, possess a gregarious, relatively social disposition and are the bird of choice in Anglo-American falconry. The longwing falcon itself is the preferred bird in Arabian falconry. The hawks typically team with hunting dogs (pointers to mark game and spaniels to flush it out). 
Rob then instructed me in the fine art of handling Ethel, releasing her into flight and then calling her back with the lure of raw meat. Hawks are extraordinarily efficient hunting machines. However, trained hawks are only as willing to hunt as they are hungry. So the key is to keep them on weight and, as a result, just a little hungry. This means that each bird's current and ideal weights are meticulously tracked by Rob and the British School staff. .jpg)
Handling a hawk on your arm means making sure that he or she can always see you and that they always face the wind. That explains why I had to walk backwards into the chambers with Ethel to ensure that she remained calm. Otherwise, the hawks will "bate," which means they engage temper tantrums that include hanging upside down like bats. Of course, the bating often starts anyway when they realize they are heading back to the chambers.
After our getting-acquainted session, Rob and I took to the forest for a one-hour "hawk walk" with two more raptors, Wallace and Haggis. The hawks followed us in flight, tracked and attacked prey in the canopy and on the forest floor, and revisited with us every so often when we raised our gloved hands and placed raw meat on the top of our left thumbs. You watch these creatures then soar through the forest and swoop gracefully onto your arm with an abrupt landing that certainly gets your attention. You can feel the pressure of their claws on your arm, which tighten when they hear certain high-pitched sounds some of which, well, I couldn't help making myself.
Falconry probably originated in China around 2000 BC, reaching the United Kingdom around 860 AD. In 1486, The Boke of St. Albans organized the ownership of hawks and falcons by social rank. Falconry is an obscure art and sport, but I find this tutelage uniquely compelling when compared with my "educational" experiences in Shakespearean theater, high-speed racing school, billiards classes, fencing school, Japanese flower-arranging and tea ceremony classes, beermaking, pistol marksmanship and, well, you name it. Perhaps it is something about that precarious relationship with a majestic raptor just one foot from your nose. 
