Brenda and I have mostly achieved the blending of our lifestyles, and are doing well in the process. I am amazed that this process has been without stress. Coming from the same upbringing and lifestyles I am sure has helped a lot, but the main thing is that we both want it to work, strongly enough, that we each are willing to do what is necessary to achieve that goal. That we knew and liked each other from the beginning of our lives has I am sure, formed a basis for that start. It doesn't hurt that we both are self sufficient and are quite capable of entertaining ourselves with out needing outside stimulation. The semi isolation of this area has not been a factor, rather we both like it. We do like company, but do not require outside stimulation to be happy. She loves the High Desert, and does not find it depressing. Believe me I have searched by every means available to me to find a woman with her outlook and disposition.
I have reluctantly begun my falconry training. Reluctantly because it seems that the animal world is about as screwed up as the humans. The game populations are seriously depressed in this area. Rabbits are having to contend with a "Hemorrhagic fever" that is kicking the crap out of the few Rabbits that are still around. The Duck populations are plagued with a form of "Bird Flu" that is extremely fatal to the Raptor populations. Lat check found that at least a 1000 cases of Bird Flu is occurring in the Western Flyway. I received a report that a falconers bird in the center of the state, caught a Duck on Monday and his Peregrine was dead by Wed.
I decided at the beginning of the season that I would only fly Bud, My Gyr hybrid cross, on bagged Ducks that I was sure was not infected. I bought 10 "flighted Mallards" from a Game farm, and they will be the only Ducks that he will be exposed to.
I had been hanging back on hunting Hope because the Rabbits are so scarce from their cyclic population crash, that I felt guilty in catching any at all. I just brought her out from the mews at the beginning of the month, and flew her for the first time on the 18th. I took her to my old spot at Arock and was pleasantly surprised to find that there were some Jacks there. She was a bit out of shape and wasn't able to catch any of the Jacks that we did find. I however was very pleased that we saw any rabbits at all. It seems that the Bunny ( Cottontails) was quite high, but these little escapa artist and rarely far enough from a hole to ever get caught by something as "slow" as a Harris Hawk. She did however get some good and very needed exercise. We put in 3.25 miles in covering the field before I called it quits. She had flights on numerous Bunnies and at least 6 Jacks. Everybody was faster and smarter. I thought she did well considering how long its been since she has chased anything.
Today I went to the Ranch next door to see how many Rabbits were living there. It only took us a mile and half for her to snag a really fat Jack of the year. In that time we also had chases on three other Jack Rabbits, so perhaps things are not as bad as I thought.
I am continually amazed at Bud. This is his second year and he is still as much of a pain in the butt as he was last year. I would guess that this is my payment for being so foolish to think that I only needed a Drone to turn one of these hybrids into a dynamite game Hawk. In the first place there is nothing wrong with this guy's genetics, the only reason that he is such a shit is entirely due to me. Somewhere I screwed up badly, either in the timing of picking him up, or my handling. Which ever is the case he has the ability to make me wonder if I still want to do this.
I could never pick him up without him throwing a hissy fit. Its truly a "love hate relationship." I pick him up, he bates, and thrashes around, screaming like I am killing him. I try to put him on the scales to see how much he weighs, He manages to bate off the scales hard enough to toss the thing on the floor. I reach for the hood and he goes off again. When I began to take his weight down in preparation to begin flying, he would twist and turn tangling his jesses to the point that he walked like a penguin. It of course is taking my life in my hands to try to untangle him. I had a total of four swivels on him so that each jess could turn and not tangle. It did not sway him at all, he repeatedly had his jesses tangled and twisted to the point that they were unusable. I left him loose for three days until I decided that it was better to have him loose, and not feed him until he was hungry enough to come to me. That way I did not have to weigh him at all. If he came to me he was at flying weight. Yes at times he does bang into the wire, but even if he looks like a feather duster by the end of the year, its still better than the alternative. He is not afraid of me, far from it! He has tried several times to bite me, to "defend" his food. He "ain't " scared.
Even with all that, he does not wander, he does step off a Duck after he has eaten some of the neck, he does fly to my fist after he has eaten all on the lure. He has never screwed off, but he is a royal pain in the ass! You would think that if I go out to get him and he doesn't come to me, I turn around and leave. One would reason that the raptor would understand that not coming to the fist meant that he wouldn't eat. Then the next opportunity it would be best to come to the fist for the offered ( on the fist) food. He seems to have trouble with that concept. He went three days without food last week because he wouldn't come to the fist to eat it. I offer, if he doesn't show some sign that he wants it, I go away. I then come back about a hour later and offer again. If he doesn't come, the next opportunity will be the next day. The temps are in the single digits here at night. Every morning in that three day fast, I would check in the morning to see if he was still alive.
Now he has a new quirk. Today was the second time I have seen it. The drone is set for 530 feet. That is as high as it goes. It will stay there until the battery runs out, then it will land where I started it. As you can imagine at 500 feet the places he chooses to land can be pretty far away. Its not at my feet at least. The last two times he has grabbed the lure with a Quail leg and thigh, then turned it loose about 50 feet off the ground. There is a parachute on the other end of the lure line. Today he turned it loose and I guess landed on a fence post on the runway. I got the line and swung it like a lure. He came right away but did not want to land on the ground. He straffed it till he tore off the thigh, then went to a fence pose to eat it. He didn't try to go off with it, just waited till he finished the thing, before he flew to the fist to get the rest of it. The thought has occurred to me that a sick duck might be the answer to my problems.
HAW!
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