New tires for the Plane, and the problems from that decision

This is what the new ones look like. Smooth Tundra Tires, new spun rims, special tubes. 21 inches tall and with screws in the rims to prevent the tire from slipping  They are what common sense and a little slush fund needs to provide for this country. With four pounds of air in them, the landings should be like setting down on a pillow. Enough clearance and most of the terrain shouldn't be too bad to land. Of course that is a bit rosy, but a fellow can dream, can't he?

https://vimeo.com/214265452

If you highlight the link to the left you can choose a function that will take you to the video.

Well after that, it became obvious that I did need to balance the tires. The weather was crappy anyway, so I proceeded to make a viable balancing system to use for that.

Pretty easy actually. Just take two transformer straps that someone was kind enough to leave here on the place. put them in a vice and bend them 90 degrees so that I can clamp them to the bench. Then use a section of 1/4 inch rubber hose to fit the bearing and a section of 3/8 rod to go between the bars. No resistance, no cost.

I had tried balancing my last pair of tires and found that they sold little 1/4 oz lead weights at a cost of about $12.00 for 8 oz. Most of them also fell off. so I decided that I would use hot glue and cast lead bullets.

At least that would give me an idea of how much weight I would need. The right one was no big deal, about 3.8 oz of weight for it. However the left one was something different. It required 14.7 oz of weight to balance out.

I had problems as you can see of getting enough weights in both sides of the tire to get it balanced.

I got a bit of a clear morning and rolled it out for a test, and the difference was just what it should have been from the first.

I decided that I couldn't leave the tires like that so I decided to make my own weights. I ordered some Hot Glue sticks by Gorilla Glue from Amazon. Naturally I ordered the mini size by mistake. The package was destroyed somewhere near Northern Oregon, so they "next day " delivered a full package of the minis. I retaliated by ordering the proper size. The hot glue that I had could have been anything from 15 to 20 years old, so I thought that I had a better chance of getting something useful from Gorilla glue. I like all their other stuff, so I had an even chance of it actually being some good.

The area where I can put the weights is only about 3/4 of an inch wide, and there is nothing on the market for these kind of tire rims, so I was limited to something home made. I admit that I am not much of an Engineer, but I am hell for making do. The pretty part is generally whats missing. I fondly call it Industrial strength "Mickey Mousing".

I made a mold out of a piece of 2x4 with a plunge router tip in my drill. I made it deep enough that I could get enough lead in there for the application.

Then I drug out my Propane heater and an old left behind frying pan, and my bucket of cast 38 wadcutters.

I weighed the weights that I had hot glued in for my test flight, poured out clean weights until I got the right amount,  put them in the pan and on the fire till they melted.

Then I poured it into the mold and had my wheel weight in a much more compact package.

3.7 ounces for the right wheel. I took a hammer and bent it to conform to the rim, then put a little dab of glue of the bottom to test the wheel for balance, and when I was satisfied with the location, slathered the glue on the bottom and stuck it in place. One wheel down.

The left tire was the problem. There was no way that I was going to be able to put 14.7 ounces on one side of the tire where I wanted it. So I had to make two of them.

One of the was 6.7 oz, and the other 8.3. It was easy to get my raw weights, just dribble bullets on the scales until I got what I wanted, then into the frying pan and pour in the mold.

The one above was the smallest, the one in the back side was going to be 8 oz and inside the brake rotor.

When I did my temporary stick on, I found that I had made it too heavy, so I trimmed it with a band saw until I got it down to what I needed. I had to stick it further in the rim to clear the brakes. I glued it as best as I could, I shudder to think what could happen if the one on the inside ever comes off. It would probably make a mess of the brake on that side. The glue however is tough, and it requires a bit of an effort to peel it off.

Five hundred and Forty Five for the two tires and tubes. That doesn't count the new rims. The Tires are $195.00 each. One would think for that price you could expect to get a damn good tire.

I contacted Desser about the problem with the tire, and I thought for a while that they were going to make it right. There is no way that any tire should require 14.8 ounces of weight to balance. It tends to make the argument of a 2 pound weight savings per tire seem to be a bad joke.

I once heard a wise man say "If its got tits or tires, its going to cause you problems".

Owyhee Field day 2017

Karen and I  loaded up the entire group with the exception of the Chickens and made the trek to the Owyhee Dam Campgrounds for another Field day for the 5th graders of the area schools. Tiger the cat wisely decided to stay in the camper where it was a lot warmer and drier. 

The pictures are bigger this time, but they will still enlarge to full size if you click on them.

This year they had to hold it at the last campground of the area because the water was so high that the road into the dam headquarters was washed out.

This is called the "Glory Hole" and has the same function as the opening at the top of your bathroom sink. It keeps the water from washing over the top of the dam. I have never seen this much water in the dam before.

These are the normal water release openings and they are about four feet in diameter.

                                                                     This is the spillway for the Glory hole.

                                             The white water on the right side is the spill way for the Glory Hole.

                                                                       You can see how big it is over the guy's shoulder.

We got there a day early and set up camp in preparation for the onslaught.

Every thing was green as could be, but the lighting was really flat. I actually need a filter on the camera for decent pictures.

I have never seen this much water in the reservoir before.

Jessie and Hope were forced to endure the visit and in Hopes case the petting fingers of  about 200 kids

The first day it rained, and rained, and the wind blew. 

Someone at the station before us thought it was a good idea to give the kids ice cream. The kids were freezing and so unprepared to be holding a freezing cup of ice cream that much of it was wasted simply because they couldn't stand the cold enough to eat it.

We took the 50 inch TV from the house and set it up for the video's that I had loaded to show what falconry is all about. At least this time they could actually see what was going on.

Thanks to Les Schwab tire store, they all had rain coats.

The first day we left the dogs in the house simply because it was so wet. Brick was going through withdrawal, having had to watch all those lickable kids that were just dying to pet him. 

The station next to us this time was Charley the Steer, who is a test subject for feed quality. The round white spot on his side is a window into his rumen stomach. There is a rubber stopper in it when the kids aren't sticking their hands inside to see how cows digest food. They cut a hole in his side and stitched his stomach to it so that the contents could be examined.

The second day it was dryer, but the wind was bitterly cold. The kids were freezing, none of us was dressed warm enough to be sitting outside. We did let the dogs out and at least some of them got to get warm with Brick being the heater. He was like a movie star throwing himself into the Mosh pit. I saw him laying across three kids at a time licking each face that got anywhere close enough to reach.

The kids were all excited to see the birds, and perhaps that makes up for the set back in their molting that will inevitably occur. Of course they all wanted to pet the birds. Poor ole Hope drew the short straw as there was no way that Jessie would allow that kind of indignity. There was not enough band aids for that. I am afraid that Hope made a serious impression on a lot of the girls especially. One of her Alula feathers fell out and there was a scramble for it. The victor had a smile a mile wide.

Checking Coyote Lake

Today was still nice for some reason, and it gave me a reason to go flying. I haven't flown for far too long. Its time I get back in the groove. Here is a short video of the area around Coyote Lake.

https://vimeo.com/213440748

password       owyheeflyer


It took a bit of searching to find a way to highlight the link to the video, but it should now play by clicking on it. They keep changing stuff.

Baby has some new shoes!

I decided this spring that I wanted a pair of some new Tundra Tires that had just come on the market about a year or so ago. They basically were just the casing of a tire without the tread, but were 22 inches tall, and without the tread part they were pretty soft and would give me a better chance of landing in unimproved areas of this country.

I bit the bullet and bought the tires, tubes and a new set of rims from the company that makes the Hydraulic Brakes that I currently have on the plane. I bought the new rims because they were thicker and made with a "spun" process rather than the "stamped" method. These were supposed to be thicker and would be better suited to drilling holes to screw the tire to the rim. This would allow me to run a lot less air in the tires, giving a softer ride without spinning the tire on the rim, which shears the valve core off.

I finally got my new rims from Matco Brakes that I ordered last month. They were out of stock and they had to make a new batch. They arrived last night.

This morning dawned clear, calm but 22 degrees. I waited until the temps got up to the low 40's before I began the project.

I first rolled the plane out and set up a camera so that I could see the Air Speed indicator. My main interest was how much speed I would lose with the bigger tire. So I took off and flew several different directions with and against the wind then landed. I decided to land at the last minute and was quite a bit too high to get to the ground before my runway gave out, so not having flaps, I "slipped" the plane to a better altitude so that I could land. For those who do not fly, a "slip" is cross controls, and uses the side surface of the plane to drop altitude without speeding up or "mushing" to the ground. ( a mush is slowing the plane to just above a stall while dropping out of the sky) Slips are easier.) It is full right rudder and full left down aileron. The speed stays the same, but altitude is shed very quickly.

I then began the process of mounting the tires and putting them on the plane. It raised the plane up about 2.5 inches higher. The added height allows me to get into the air quicker. I secured the tires to the rims with screws so that the tire wouldn't slip on the rim with low pressure in the tire. The tires then act like shock absorbers, allowing me to land in rougher areas.

I flew again, and found that there was no apparent reduction in speed. That makes me happy. Now if I could just get some decent weather.

  https://vimeo.com/213383013    

You will have to cut and paste. For some reason I cannot paste the url  so that it will auto load.

    password    owyheeflyer

The answer to an old riddle

We are still in a holding pattern here. The weather is nice enough except for the wind. Its warm enough that I can cut back on the amount of firewood that I am burning, but not so warm that I can work on my tan.

I know very little about either side of my family. My father broke away from his relatives at a very early age. His was not a happy childhood at all, and I always understood that he was a bit ashamed of them. My Mother however was a different story, but other than her brothers and sisters which were scattered far and wide, I really never had much exposure to any of them. I was able to spend a week or so at my Grandparents farm each summer. However they were in their 80's the first time I remember them at all.

You have to understand that this was in W.Va. 60 some years ago and times and travel were different than what we know today. My father was a Methodist minister with a circuit of churches that he tended. The most money that he ever made in one year was $4,000. dollars, and most of our food was either grown by us or fell to one of our rifles. My Grandparents lived only a 100 miles away, but over the back roads of rural W.Va. it was a torturous 4.5 hour drive. I can clearly recall that my father had a $20. a month gas allowance that was supposed to cover all our trips. So going to Grampa's was not a regular thing.

I loved it however since it gave me new areas to explore and ponds that I could fish in. There was a couple of first cousins that I fell in youthful love with as well. All my brothers and sisters were gone by the time I was 10, so I spent a lot of my time by myself. This was not a problem for me at all and I spent most of my time "perfecting" my hunting and stalking skills.

Somehow I developed the belief that my father was 1/4 Indian, which seemed a bit romantic to me. He was quite dark and tanned with a deep copper color. For years I took pride in that thought, and I polished my "woods craft", at every opportunity. That pride however suffered quite a blow when I was assigned to Klamath Falls Oregon as a new State trooper, and I got my first view of the Klamath and Modoc Indians. They were just not at all impressed with me and did not resemble my version of the "noble Indian". I reasoned that although the Eastern Indians were marked by a seriously bloody history, that they would more likely fit my imagined role that had marked my childhood romantic imaginations.

You know how it is when you look in the mirror, and the image that looks back at you doesn't resemble the one in your head? Well quite likely there is no one in the entire world that knows me, sees the "me" that I think resides in my body.

Now I am the last of my line. There will be nothing left of my line when I am gone. I don't have a problem with that. However I began to wonder if my impressions from over the years had any basis in reality. I had grown up believing that I was a mixture of Penn. Dutch, Perhaps some French Canadian, and of course Indian. Now I knew from having to invent a email address that there are a whole slew of hill billy's in W.Va. Kentucky and Tennessee, with the name of Larry Cottrell. Not Lawrence- Larry, which I took to be Hill Billies, since a more worldly parent would use Lawrence rather than the normal nickname of Larry.

So I decided to get one of the DNA tests to see just what I was made of. Since I am not likely to do anything that a DNA test could be used in prosecution, I felt rather foolish, but safe enough to continue. I of course was quite sure that I would find that I was the child or one of the rather more fierce Eastern Indian tribes.

Imagine my surprise when the results came back-  I was 99.9 percent European. Of that I was 97.8 Northwestern European. Of that I was 54.5 percent English and Irish. The rest was Scandinavian, German, France, Iberian, Sardinian, Jewish with a tiny smidgen of Sub-Saharan African. I also found that I had more Neanderthal variants than 86 percent of their customers. What a hoot! The only part that bothered me at all was the report that I was 54.5 % English. I have always considered myself an "Anglophobe", and now I are one!

As you know my driving thoughts and actions have always been Falconry. Most of the published works concerning it were by English men, who to me seemed to be so hemmed in by tradition that it drove me crazy and to do every thing that I could to prove that they were unable to think for themselves. My successes at that may be another story, however that we could discuss some other time.

I did find it quite entertaining that all those different girls who accused me of being a caveman weren't wrong after all, just terribly discerning.

Photo's by Karen.

Odds and ends

Well, finally the weather is getting better. Its about time. We even had one day that was good enough that I was able to roll the plane out to see if I still remembered how to fly. I was a bit rusty, but each landing was a bit better. When I filled out my log book, I discovered that I had last flown 5.5 months ago. I had dedicated all my time to training Hope. It was actually worth it. She still shows signs of being an exceptional hunting Hawk.

The full Moon sometimes is just beautiful when it rises.

I have been having trouble with a Raccoon for the last couple of months. The first problem was in January, I think. I got angry enough that I gathered up the hens and roosters that I wanted to keep and penned them all up in the enclosed chicken pen. I had 6 extra Roosters that I left out as bait.

I set traps, both live and "dog Proof" traps around the areas that the thief would generally use. All to no avail. For three weeks apparently the varmint did not come around again. Finally one frosty morning I see a Raccoon track on the ice of the drinking water tub. I re baited the traps again. Nothing, for at least three weeks again. The weather got a lot better and I decided to not close up the Roosters again believing that with the better weather the critter was finally going to stay at home across the road.

Just in case I was wrong, I put a live trap inside the chicken house trap door, so that the entrance would appear open but the critter would have to go through the trap to get inside.

 For three weeks nothing happened, but I did catch the fattest Pack Rat that I have ever seen. I took him out for Josie to play with, but he was so big that Josie just grabbed him and shook him to death as soon as his feet hit the ground.

Three days ago I noticed that two of the Roosters were missing. I checked around and only found a few tail feathers and one small blood spot outside the chicken house. I decided that I would put out a couple of trail cams to see if I could see what he was doing. He had been ignoring my live trap totally.

I set three Dog proof traps around the Chicken house and set a steel trap at the Chicken pen. I used a cinnamon roll for the bait on the trigger and around the area in front. The traps are designed strictly for Raccoons. They take advantage of the tendency of the Coons to use their front feet to grab their food. The trap is basically a pipe with a "U" shaped piece of metal to hold the Coon. Its nice as the problem of catching Cats or Dogs is non existent.

The next morning I removed the card from the cameras, and found that one of the camera's had a flash on it rather than Infrared, and I got a shot of the Coons butt as he scurried off. Nothing was touched. The next night the one camera without the flash was the only one that I put out. It showed a Jack Rabbit and a Bunny ( Brush Bunny) enjoying the Cinnamon roll. I had sacrificed all the rolls that I was interested in and was looking for something else to use for bait. I finally decided on  Honey Nut Cheerio's for last nights bait.

The first thing I did when I woke up this morning was to look out the windows and I was overjoyed to have finally caught the Bastard. He was a pretty big Boar Raccoon, weighing about 30 pounds. I know from experience that he could hold two chickens at once. Perhaps now things will settle down a bit.

The Coon had gotten into the live trap, and triggered it, but he was so big that his butt stopped the door from totally closing, and he had backed out of the trap. I guess that he then decided to sample the Cheerios. I won't miss him at all.

   

Thoughts on Raptors

Jessie has been for me, the one Raptor that is the most interesting, challenging, as well as effective Hawk that I have ever trained, or rather- Handled. I qualified that because the word "trained" may not accurately describe Jessie's condition. Enabled may be a better description.

Since the acquisition of such Raptors as Peregrines and Gyrfalcons from the wild has, in the past been impossible, we have had to learn how to interact and train captive bred raptors. This is the most difficult task possible. There are many pitfalls that do not occur with a wild caught Raptor. If you recall the earlier posts concerning Lee-Zard the Prairie Falcon, beginning in May. It was the culmination of many days and nights considering how to traverse the mine field of taking a baby falcon and ending up with a hunting companion that was as minimally mentally scarred as possible. The difficult part is teaching that if you don't kill, you don't eat. Since the "eyass" (meaning baby) raptor thinks you are its mother, it stands to reason that you are the source of food. If it is hungry, it demands that you give it food. After all your its mother, right?

Stripped to its basics, the term, trained Hawk, implies that one has conditioned a raptor to accept a human as a hunting partner. The better falconers have learned how to get a raptor to accept their presence and to be aware that the human will enable them to catch game. Some of this is through repetition and hunger management, with a little Stockholm syndrome thrown in.

http://medical-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com/Stockholm+syndrome            

 (you may have to copy and paste)

The success of this endeavor can be enhanced by the age that the raptor is taken, but also by the species. Not all raptors are created equal. Some, such as the Coopers Hawk, are wound so tight that it takes little for one of them to go over the edge into total insanity. Some are virtually un-trainable. The key to being able to hunt one of them is to have it so accustomed to your presence that it is totally comfortable in your presence. No easy feat, I might add. In the case of Accipiters, one is much better off not taking an eyass, rather waiting until it is hunting on its own.

Other species naturally seem to be designed for falconry, such as the Peregrine Falcon. The British, who did most of the early notable works on Falconry, valued it above all others. Primarily because they naturally hunt from a height. Thus most of the time being in a position to take advantage of the falconer and his dogs flushing game for them to catch.

This of course is the key factor in hunting with a Hawk- having it being ready and willing to catch what ever the falconer flushes for it, as well being able to recover it when it has done so.

Over the course of my life I have had many Hawks and some Falcons. Having the ability to remember, honestly and without excuses, my actions and the results, has given me a bit of an edge in Falconry. I have drawn some conclusions as to how to find and encourage the behavior that I need in a raptor that I intend to hunt with. Now having spent my life with rather limited means to acquire the "better" strain of raptors, it has taken a bit longer to compile any useful knowledge of the subject. I do not lay claim to being an "expert", it is totally possible that I could be as full of shit as a Christmas Turkey.

I am afraid that this discussion is a bit deeper than I can adequately explain in a short written message such as this, since there are many variables that could influence the discussion. I will do my best however.

The age a raptor is taken from its mother influences the outcome of training almost from day to day. Taken at 19 days old a Peregrine could either become an imprint, or just a dual socialized raptor. In other words it would know that it was a Hawk, but thinks that you might be a distant relative. One taken at 35 days old will be merely an unskilled version of a fully grown Hawk. An imprint can best be described as the little lap dog that will go crazy if you get close to its mistress. Unthinking, and very demanding. Not very pleasant in something with a sharp beak and eight very sharp talons, not to mention very loud vocal chords.

I should add that what I am looking for, is a raptor that knows what it is, and is comfortable enough with its life that it neither fears nor disrespects you. It does not long for freedom, or is dissatisfied with its life. With that accomplishment the only limiting factor is its innate ability to catch game and yours to present the game. That stage for a Peregrine is about 28 days old. In Prairie Falcons the age would be 22 days. Gyrs and Hybrids would  be about 38 days old.

The way to achieve this level is through the age that it is taken. Too early and it is an imprint. Too late and the feathers can suffer through shock marks, ( a weakening of the feather shaft due to the withdrawal of the blood that feeds them. Occurring through the shock and fear brought on by handling)

It is only when you have accomplished such as described above that you see the bird for what it actually is. A raptor that is uncomfortable around you, will not show you its true self. It will always hold back, or be reserved in its reaction with you. In many ways you can get away with some mishandling of an older bird, that you could not with one taken at the time that I describe.

In Accipiters such as Goshawks, Coopers and Sharpshins, none of this is needed. Falcons can benefit, having descended from totally different stock they have different reactions and thinking processes. Plus they are readily available in the wild, there is no need to jump through unnecessary hoops, although some will continue to do it.

I have mentioned many times that Jessie is a character. She can be described that way because she has reached a level that she is totally acclimated to her life with me. She unfortunately treats me the way that she would a mate. She is totally trustworthy in the field. I don't have to look for her when I go to flush. She will be there. She however does not like to spend the nights outside, preferring the comfort and safety of her night perch in my shop. If she thinks that I have treated her unfairly she will not hesitate to attack me with beak and claw. She has so far laid about 38 eggs unsolicited or fertilized, by me.

For the most part she is a hard working, very determined hunting falcon. She will, as long as there is game take a pitch over Ducks as many times as is necessary to kill one. She will fly as long as she can, rest on a hill side when she needs to. Regaining her pitch when she has rested. She has killed three Geese, Sage Grouse and even attempted to take a Swan. She was lost when we first moved to Jordan for three days. She chewed her leash off and flew off with a swivel connecting her legs. Three days later she returned to the house and when I picked her up she had a full crop.

All of that makes her sound pretty good. In fact she is but like over achievers everywhere, she demands a price. If I am clumsy when she has killed a Duck, and show too much eagerness to secure her to my glove she will get pissed and stay pissed until the next time and I do better. She has attacked me three different times, because of my insecurity with caught game. If I wear a different hat than the one that she is used to, she calls alarm and won't let me touch her. If I get impatient and do not wait for her to step on the fist when I am moving her from her inside to her outside perch, she will bate from the fist and be cranky for at least a week. She has a well developed sense of dignity, and I had best treat her in accordance.

At this time of the year the raptors in my care spend the days in the weathering area, and the nights on their perch in the shop. This allows me to maintain a working contact with them, and in the case of Hope, the Harris Hawk, allows me to feed her without the counterproductive aspect of "tossing her food". I put their food on their outside perch and take them to it. This keeps Hope from making the connection of hands always having food in them. Harris Hawks are too smart and will sometimes get aggressive. It is best to not let that happen.

Since they are both molting, and the molt is triggered both by the time of the year and the amount of food, or their weight. Control is a fine line. Too much weight and the bird doesn't want to be bothered, and too little, the molt suffers.

Hope is not a problem. I stick my fist out and tell her to "get on" and she eventually will. The hungrier she is the more willing she is. If either bird will not get on, they don't go outside. Hope almost always will, but only takes one day without food to ensure that she is cooperative. Jessie is another matter. The key is to keep them as heavy as I can and still obtain cooperation.

Jessie's indicators that she is getting too heavy is, when I step outside the shop, she will bate off the fist. Once and she is close to too heavy. Twice and she is for sure too heavy. I then normally do not feed her the next day. She however has a tendency to try to set me up for failure. Now I do not ascribe to the Disney school of thought that critters think and reason as we do. With Jessie I would call it more think and un-reason. That is because we don't think the same. 2+2= 14 for her. In other words, most of us are too stupid to see the result of her thinking.   Simplified, Raptors think in terms of strength. If I am strong enough, I will take what you have, and maybe your life. Paranoia is merely an advanced sense of reality. So no matter how many times you give your bird its meal, it still thinks that it stole it from you and you are only waiting for the chance to take it back.

Jessie, yesterday when I went to pick her up, looked at the fist, then looked up at me, as if to say NO! What are you going to do about it? Normally I pick up her jesses, put my fist on her perch and give the command, she will step on, softly talking to me. We then go outside, I tie her to her slider, set her on the tire and she will then fly to her perch and start eating her food.

If I get pushy and nudge her with my fist, she gets cranky. She will generally get on, but she is simmering with dignified outrage, that will soon come out as anger. The worst thing I can do is to scoop her up with her jesses. That comes with vocal outrage and eventual rebellion. So in the last few years, I have decided to take my cues from her. She is a bit like pushing a chain. You can try, but the result is generally messy.

The part that I find amusing is that you can see the gears turning in her little devious head. So anyway, yesterday she would not get on the fist. I stood there for a bit, even repeating the command. Nope! she would look at me, then look at the fist and stand stock still. I turned and left the room. Since the weather was good enough that I had gone out earlier than usual, I marked it up to that. You see, she is very conscious of time as well. 10 AM is the usual time, and 10 AM is when it should happen. I am not kidding! So I waited until 10 AM and went back out. It only took one look at her to know that she wasn't going to cooperate. At this point I was enjoying the contest of wills. I made the offer any way and of course she refused just as before. I left her there all day, and didn't approach her again.

This morning I went out, picked up Hope, and put her on her perch, but did not supply any food to her today. A bit too heavy after about 8 oz of Rabbit back strap yesterday. I approached Jessie and I could again see the rebellion in her stance. I offered, she refused, I walked away. I left her until we went out to exercise, and offered again. She looked at the fist, then at me, at this time it was OK to bump her legs a bit. She stepped on confident that she had made her point. She was a perfect lady while I tied her to her slider. She then went to eat her meal. The consequences are not so bad if we are not hunting. If we were hunting, she would have ignored the flush or just whiffed it, if I had offended her.

She will be a little angel for a while, then soon in the near future she will again set her trap to see if I still respect her.

Its too bad that Jessie came so late in my life with her lessons. I'm not sure if I have time enough to start another. Hawks are, basically simplified, better their first year than the second. While a Falcon will take as much as three years to develop a winning strategy that can be counted on each time.

Jessie seems to have recovered from whatever state of mind or malady that affected her the last two years, so I will take her up to hunt again this year. I can hardly wait.