Sunday, November 19, 2017
Nov 19 Jack Number 15
Today is clear and cold. It was 18 degrees this morning. I, of course waited until it warmed to 30 before going outside. There is a bit of haze, but nothing is ever perfect. It will do!
I had gone to Arock yesterday with the Dogs, and Hope, and she did not connect with any of the Jacks that we put up for her. She weighed in at 1043 grams. She still tried however. This was the third day since I had overfed her.
I called a rancher that I know that owns the Pillars of Rome, asking if we could hunt there. I have been hammering the spot at Arock a lot harder than I like, so it was time for a change. The area around the Pillars does not harbor a large number of Jacks, I was just hoping that we could find enough to make it worth while. I had already determined that Hope was heavy enough that if she didn't catch one within a reasonable number of slips, I would bring her home. This morning she weighed 966 grams. She has put on a lot of muscle, so I don't feel that 950 is too heavy for her. More than that- well maybe.
The cows haven't been on this ground at all and the Cheat grass is almost knee high. As I walked through the area, the dogs and I were not finding anything at all. There were some trails that the rabbits make, so I wasn't counting it out as yet.
The first thing that we found was the remains of a forked horn Mule deer buck. I picked up the head with the thought of taking it home. I walked over to where Karen and the car was and tossed it in the ditch for Karen. Hope thought it might be good to eat since it had a bit of hair on it still.
She eventually gave up that idea, and we continued our walk. The dogs were working well, even Josie was staying out a bit without venturing too far for a change. We had just barely started again when a Jack jumped behind Josie. Hope started immediately for him and he dodged under her first attack. He didn't seem to know which way to run, as his first dodge put him right in front of me. He turned but Hope was already in the air again, and she caught him within 10 feet.
Hope had him with both feet, one in the butt and the other in the stomach. I broke his neck by twisting it. He was still squealing a bit and Josie came up to offer to finish him for me, but I declined.
This is what she looked like on the other side of the bush.
I gave her the rear leg from a Bunny that she had caught, bagged up the rabbit and the dogs and I went to the car.
We got about half way there and here came Hope with the bunny leg in her mouth, landing in the Sage. I went on to the car and she landed on the hood of the car to finish her leg.
I have never had a hawk that would carry food to me before. I think I like it.
This turned out to be a good spot. The tall cover worked in our favor for a change. The grass is knee high, so the rabbits get it in their face and eyes as they run, thus they cannot see where every thing and every one is. Perhaps Hope will begin to get a bit higher so she can see a bit better as to where to make her strike. This poor Jack was an old experienced one, but it was obvious that he was confused. Hope however was not! She hit the ground, bounced back in the air and caught him within 10- 15 feet from the first attempt. Every thing that you could ask for.
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
Nov 14 - Nov 15
This morning Hope weighed in at around 1000 grams. I guess I am going to have to quit feeding her the Liver and Heart after giving her all her normal food after a kill. Even though she was quite heavy this morning, she was still calling to me even when she only heard me walking. What the hell, I need the exercise, and the Dogs were very anxious to go, so I decided to go hunting any way.
The Sunrise was quite nice.
It was quite stormy and windy yesterday, and of course the Steen's get quite a lot more moisture out of the Storms that go through this area.
The Sunrise was quite nice.
It was quite stormy and windy yesterday, and of course the Steen's get quite a lot more moisture out of the Storms that go through this area.
The Steen's got quite a bit of snow lately.
When we got to the field, I decided to hunt an area that is quite thin cover, but might well be harboring some refugees from the areas that I have been hunting hard. I decided to hunt without the dogs for the first part and them bring them into the hunt if we didn't get any thing.
After covering quite a bit of ground, finding a few, but somehow Hope wasn't able to connect. I couldn't see much difference in her interest. Almost all of the slips were long ones, that mostly took her out of sight. There were a couple of close calls, but no hair in the feet.
As I circled around to where Karen was, I was eventually able to signal her to turn the dogs loose for a final push. Again the slips were pretty far out, but Brick going a bit further out than Josie, hit a Jack on one of his circles back towards us. The Jack had no choice but to run in our direction. Hope took off as soon as he broke cover, flying to intercept. I was quite interested to see what was going to happen, since their closing speed was somewhere around 80 MPH. I know that Jacks can clock in at 45 MPH. I have clocked them with the speedometer before. Hope can fly faster than a "speeding Jack", so I held my breath. The Jack apparently didn't see her coming because he wasn't changing course or slowing. Hope finally came to her senses, and managed to miss him, but it wasn't by much. It could have been an accident that she did, hopefully it was because she was too smart.
We made another drive down along the fence before quitting, and we got one more chance. On this one I had a front row seat. She came down crashing into the ground, but she was trying for the head, She hit him in the ears just above the skull. Apparently she is tired of getting strained through the Sage bushes. She does prefer the head when she can. Karen met us with the car, and we came on home. We will hunt again tomorrow.
Tami called in the afternoon wanting me to check Yogi. They had gone out by the ranch and Yogi caught the only Jack that they saw. She crashed into a Sage really hard and didn't want to fly to the perch after being fed. She ended up walking to Tami rather than fly.
I checked her wing and found no noticeable damage, so we are hoping that it is only a bruise. I suggested that she keep her on the perch until she regains the use of her wing. She is holding it tight, but just doesn't want to use it. She has caught 16 Jacks now and that with only about an hour at a time hunting on the ranch and generally only jumping one or two rabbits at the most. Perhaps if she is off long enough Hope can catch up. Yogi is on fire this year, flying better than she has ever flown. Where it takes 15 or more slips for Hope to find one dumb enough to come home with us, Yogi is killing the first one more times than not.
Wed. 15 November- number 14
We were promised a storm with the winds due around 10:00 AM for today. So we were out of the house by 9:AM. Hope still weighed 970 grams.
We walked perhaps a 1/2 mile before we jumped anything, and it was way out there. Of course Hope wasn't able to catch it. The fact that she flies anything and every thing helps to keep her number of catches low, but she still has not the knowledge that Yogi possesses.
I had walked to the top of the hill, about a mile, and still hadn't had what I felt was a good chance for us. I turned and started on a different path down the hill. After traversing about half the way to the bottom with only one slip, I got on a knob and signaled Karen to turn the dogs out.
Josie, my little female, stays right under my feet when she is wearing the collar. I forgot them today, so today- not so much! Brick the male hunts close with or without the collar, and he came right to me. Josie hit a Jack right out of the car and she was off! I had stood on the top of this knob that gave me good visibility for about 50 yards in all directions. I had been sure that we would see a Jack hiding there. It was just that sort of a place. I had been there for about 10 minutes yelling for the dogs and we had seen nothing. I got ready to go after Josie had rejoined us, and gave them the command to "find it." Brick did, just about 15 yards in front of us was a Jack that had been hiding there all along. I don't think that he was aware of Hope until she had her talons buried in his neck.
The interesting part for me was the fact that as soon as Hope grabbed him and the Jack screamed, Brick stopped and waited for me. Good boy! Neither dog interfered with Hope and when they would even come close, she would flap her wings and give them "the look". They went on about their business and did not tempt her.
So here I am, having walked about a mile and half with no results. Have the dogs for 5 minutes and have a Jack in the bag. Seems kind of obvious doesn't it? If Hope has it in control neither dog would interfere. A flopping Jack sticking out of a Sage will get Josie on it right now. I'll just need to keep a close eye on things and hopefully it will all work out. As we were getting in the car to return home the winds started.
Sunday, November 12, 2017
Nov 12
While the sky was fairly clear this morning, we still had a nice Sunrise. The clear part however didn't last all that long. The clouds began gathering the more the Sun rose.
It was a bit cooler than the last few days with the temps at 30 degrees. We got all our chores done and was out of the door by 9:30. Hope, when I weighed her, came in at 943 grams.
I decided to try another field this morning, but after walking the width and breath of it we only saw one Jack. Then a Prairie Falcon decided to horn in and make a shot at Hope as she was chasing it.
We loaded up, and this time for a change up we went to another field. This time to the top of the hill, where I generally end my hunt, before we started. After a fair amount of tries and misses, Hope finally caught one. It broke loose before I could get to her to help. Grrr!
We kept running into Deer. Only one of them was a buck, and from the looks of him he might be an old on on the down hill slide. As you can see? he is only a three point, but he is pretty big. As they age they keep the height and width of their horns, but they eventually end up with only wide spikes or forks.
When I got to the bottom, I met Karen and asked her to take the car across the field to the other side, where I would meet her. As I walked, I jumped two different Jacks and while Hope was getting close, they were still scraping her off on the Sage bushes. As I neared Karen, I asked her to let the dogs out since I was pretty sure we were going home empty handed. This time I had put their shock collars on them, and while I had it set to call rather than shock, I was pretty sure I could keep them in useful range. We hadn't gone very far when a Jack that had been successfully hiding lost his nerve and made a break for it. Hope caught him in no time. Josie was with me as we made our way to her. Josie couldn't stand it any longer and ran up to the bush that Hope was stuck in. The Jack was on the other side however, trying his best to pull away. I believe that Hope was so surprised that she either let go, or a charging Dog was all the incentive the Jack needed to pull away. Either way, Hope was left sticking in a Sage, while I threw a temper tantrum. Not at the Dog or Hope, but at myself for not stopping the Dog. She didn't know any better, while I for sure did. Just not fast enough.
Karen asked if I wanted to put them up, but I decided to leave them out for a while longer. Both dogs were staying in nice and close, as well as working the cover quite well. We hadn't gone more that 100 feet when another Jack jumped and again Hope caught him. I made sure that Josie stayed back with me as we approached. The set up was just like the other two, Hope on one side of a bush holding onto his butt with one foot, while he strained to pull away. This time I drug out my 22, thinking that I would make sure that this one didn't pull away. The range was about 10 feet. As some of you might know, the bullet, when leaving the barrel dips below line of sight and then rises until gravity starts bringing it down to the ground. The gun is sighted in for 50 yards. That means that it is about 2 inches low at 10 feet. The Jack was somehow still alive after five shots. ( I could dig up a logical excuse if I had more time.) Josie firmly believing that I am in real life as wonderful as she thinks I am, decided that it was surely dead, and went in to anchor it for me. Hope again let go or had it pulled out of her feet, I haven't decided that as yet. I stood there with my mouth open trying to decide if I was happy or pissed. I eventually came to the conclusion that "all's well that ends well", and left it at that.
I am going to have to spend some time thinking about the benefits of the dogs compared to the possibility of having Josie perhaps hurt Hope, by grabbing a Jack when she is stuck in a Sage Bush, or if the dogs cause enough of a distraction to the Jacks to make them more vulnerable to her attacks. I am quite sure that the latter is the case. We caught two Jacks in two flights today. This last one is another Old Timer. He had fat packed all over him, so I know that he is well aware of the dangers of life, and not likely to make a dumb mistake. I am also quite sure that he knew that the two Dogs were there as well. I think the Hawk was the surprising factor that he didn't see.
Karen really liked and admired my temper tantrum. She said I looked cute jumping up and down like that.
It was a bit cooler than the last few days with the temps at 30 degrees. We got all our chores done and was out of the door by 9:30. Hope, when I weighed her, came in at 943 grams.
I decided to try another field this morning, but after walking the width and breath of it we only saw one Jack. Then a Prairie Falcon decided to horn in and make a shot at Hope as she was chasing it.
We loaded up, and this time for a change up we went to another field. This time to the top of the hill, where I generally end my hunt, before we started. After a fair amount of tries and misses, Hope finally caught one. It broke loose before I could get to her to help. Grrr!
We kept running into Deer. Only one of them was a buck, and from the looks of him he might be an old on on the down hill slide. As you can see? he is only a three point, but he is pretty big. As they age they keep the height and width of their horns, but they eventually end up with only wide spikes or forks.
When I got to the bottom, I met Karen and asked her to take the car across the field to the other side, where I would meet her. As I walked, I jumped two different Jacks and while Hope was getting close, they were still scraping her off on the Sage bushes. As I neared Karen, I asked her to let the dogs out since I was pretty sure we were going home empty handed. This time I had put their shock collars on them, and while I had it set to call rather than shock, I was pretty sure I could keep them in useful range. We hadn't gone very far when a Jack that had been successfully hiding lost his nerve and made a break for it. Hope caught him in no time. Josie was with me as we made our way to her. Josie couldn't stand it any longer and ran up to the bush that Hope was stuck in. The Jack was on the other side however, trying his best to pull away. I believe that Hope was so surprised that she either let go, or a charging Dog was all the incentive the Jack needed to pull away. Either way, Hope was left sticking in a Sage, while I threw a temper tantrum. Not at the Dog or Hope, but at myself for not stopping the Dog. She didn't know any better, while I for sure did. Just not fast enough.
Karen asked if I wanted to put them up, but I decided to leave them out for a while longer. Both dogs were staying in nice and close, as well as working the cover quite well. We hadn't gone more that 100 feet when another Jack jumped and again Hope caught him. I made sure that Josie stayed back with me as we approached. The set up was just like the other two, Hope on one side of a bush holding onto his butt with one foot, while he strained to pull away. This time I drug out my 22, thinking that I would make sure that this one didn't pull away. The range was about 10 feet. As some of you might know, the bullet, when leaving the barrel dips below line of sight and then rises until gravity starts bringing it down to the ground. The gun is sighted in for 50 yards. That means that it is about 2 inches low at 10 feet. The Jack was somehow still alive after five shots. ( I could dig up a logical excuse if I had more time.) Josie firmly believing that I am in real life as wonderful as she thinks I am, decided that it was surely dead, and went in to anchor it for me. Hope again let go or had it pulled out of her feet, I haven't decided that as yet. I stood there with my mouth open trying to decide if I was happy or pissed. I eventually came to the conclusion that "all's well that ends well", and left it at that.
The dogs were both grateful for the chance to participate.
I am going to have to spend some time thinking about the benefits of the dogs compared to the possibility of having Josie perhaps hurt Hope, by grabbing a Jack when she is stuck in a Sage Bush, or if the dogs cause enough of a distraction to the Jacks to make them more vulnerable to her attacks. I am quite sure that the latter is the case. We caught two Jacks in two flights today. This last one is another Old Timer. He had fat packed all over him, so I know that he is well aware of the dangers of life, and not likely to make a dumb mistake. I am also quite sure that he knew that the two Dogs were there as well. I think the Hawk was the surprising factor that he didn't see.
Karen really liked and admired my temper tantrum. She said I looked cute jumping up and down like that.
Friday, November 10, 2017
Eyass Falcons and a bit of history
I have been telling you of Jessie's rather unusual behavior for some time. However most of you do not have the experience to fully grasp the unusual aspect of her actions or better yet, her responses.
While falconry is very old, predating rifles as a means of obtaining food, and the knowledge such as it was, consisted of studies by other cultures. Here in the US, not very much was known about it until the 70's. I had no one to enlighten me on what worked or didn't work. There was not much that I was able to glean from books that were more like related successful tales by English Falconers. They say rather accurately that "experience comes from bad decisions", and I would have to agree. Consider that each " oh shit" generally took a year to come to fruition, because it took that long to find out if you had a "hunting Hawk" or just a pet. Each year I learned a little more and planned the next years endeavor with the hope that I could end up with a better hunting Hawk.
The other problem was the limited availability of raptors to practice on. In England and in Holland there were falconers that made a living by trapping "hunting Falcons" on Passage, and sold them. Little to nothing was known about eyass raptors, and they had little value. The birds available here was mostly limited to species that were better suited to vermin control rather than hunting Grouse on the Moors. It took me four years to actually touch a raptor, and then it was a Kestrel taken from a nest illegally by a guy in California.
There are three stages of a raptors life. Eyass- from hatching to hunting on its own. Passage- a raptor in its first year on migration, Haggard- fully grown mature bird that has survived its first year and migration.
Of the three the only one that anything was known about or used was the passage. All of the books published about falconry concerned the training of either the Passage Peregrine falcon, or the Sparrow Hawk. Both birds inhabiting the English Isles and European countries. While all that was wonderful - if you lived there, it wasn't much good to a kid living in W.Va. or any where in America.
Now the point of all this rambling is that the age when a raptor comes into a falconers hands determines the mental state or mind set, if you will. It can change or react differently by even a day's difference. A passage already knows how to hunt, and what works for it. All you have to do is to "man" or accustom the bird to your presence, teach it to come to a lure or your fist, and then go kill something. The problem with all that is the Passage birds of my dreams lived in Alaska, Canada and other places that I had no access to.
The only problem was that we here in the US had no access to the one bird that readily adapts itself to falconry, the Peregrine. That was because we had poisoned the population of Peregrines with DDT. The species was dying out due to the fact that the egg shells were too thin to bear the falcons weight as she was brooding. The turn around and discovery took place in the 60's and 70's.
During this time an urgent drive began to discover how to breed falcons in captivity. I won't bore you with all of this, suffice it to say that I joined with George Peden to establish a breeding facilities to raise some of the finer falcons for falconry. We were forced to resort to artificial insemination to have any success. It was all very expensive and I for one had to do it on a shoestring budget.
Almost all of the birds produced at my part of the facilities went for release to bolster the populations in the wild. We also produced some hybrids between Prairie Falcons and Peregrines and a few Gyrfalcon and Peregrines. Since it was all through artificial means, what we ended up with was baby falcons that had to be hand raised. Now, nobody can beat mother nature, the best that you can hope for is a fair imitation of a normal raptor. Not as easy as it sounds.
What we mostly ended up with at first was an imprinted spoiled brat that had the possibility of being a dangerous idiotic psychotic raptor. Did I mention that if not real careful, they think you are a parent whose duties are to feed it when ever it is hungry. Screaming loudly and constantly is the way that they signal their needs.
I soon learned that each species had a different age,measured in days, that they did not imprint. They still were as dumb as posts about how to fly or hunt. One other aspect that was interesting is that most of them still thought that they should migrate along with the real hawks. Since they were basically tame and used to people the indicators that it was about to happen was not very apparent.
With Peregrines I felt that the proper age to take one from its parents was exactly 28 days. I also learned that not all raptors were created equally. Just like people, some were psycho's, some were nervous, so much so to be worthless or at least a less desirable prospect. The one to take is the one that calms down first when you present yourself in close the first time. That one will be your best option.
That is the way that I picked Jessie. She knew that she was a falcon, but was young enough to bond to me. A trapped passage will always have respect, and be reserved in relation to the falconer. Jessie doesn't feel that way. She interacts with me as if I was her mate. Therefore I cannot be trusted with food, and will always be scheming to take it away from her. She has worn a hood prior to flying for 12 years. She still will do her best to make it as hard for me every single day as she can. She will allow me to place it on her head, then try to pull her head out at the last second. It sometimes takes four or five times before she will allow me to pull the braces. She thinks of me as her mate. She laid 10 eggs this year, and was as sweet to me as I have ever seen her, at least as long as she was laying. She is as close to a Disney presentation of a raptor with human tendencies as exists today.
She got loose our first year here and returned on her own after three days. She had a full crop, but wanted me to pick her up. Other than that she has not spent a night on her own outside. She is the finest hunting hawk that I have ever had, but she screws with me all the time. Its worth it!
While falconry is very old, predating rifles as a means of obtaining food, and the knowledge such as it was, consisted of studies by other cultures. Here in the US, not very much was known about it until the 70's. I had no one to enlighten me on what worked or didn't work. There was not much that I was able to glean from books that were more like related successful tales by English Falconers. They say rather accurately that "experience comes from bad decisions", and I would have to agree. Consider that each " oh shit" generally took a year to come to fruition, because it took that long to find out if you had a "hunting Hawk" or just a pet. Each year I learned a little more and planned the next years endeavor with the hope that I could end up with a better hunting Hawk.
The other problem was the limited availability of raptors to practice on. In England and in Holland there were falconers that made a living by trapping "hunting Falcons" on Passage, and sold them. Little to nothing was known about eyass raptors, and they had little value. The birds available here was mostly limited to species that were better suited to vermin control rather than hunting Grouse on the Moors. It took me four years to actually touch a raptor, and then it was a Kestrel taken from a nest illegally by a guy in California.
There are three stages of a raptors life. Eyass- from hatching to hunting on its own. Passage- a raptor in its first year on migration, Haggard- fully grown mature bird that has survived its first year and migration.
Of the three the only one that anything was known about or used was the passage. All of the books published about falconry concerned the training of either the Passage Peregrine falcon, or the Sparrow Hawk. Both birds inhabiting the English Isles and European countries. While all that was wonderful - if you lived there, it wasn't much good to a kid living in W.Va. or any where in America.
Now the point of all this rambling is that the age when a raptor comes into a falconers hands determines the mental state or mind set, if you will. It can change or react differently by even a day's difference. A passage already knows how to hunt, and what works for it. All you have to do is to "man" or accustom the bird to your presence, teach it to come to a lure or your fist, and then go kill something. The problem with all that is the Passage birds of my dreams lived in Alaska, Canada and other places that I had no access to.
The only problem was that we here in the US had no access to the one bird that readily adapts itself to falconry, the Peregrine. That was because we had poisoned the population of Peregrines with DDT. The species was dying out due to the fact that the egg shells were too thin to bear the falcons weight as she was brooding. The turn around and discovery took place in the 60's and 70's.
During this time an urgent drive began to discover how to breed falcons in captivity. I won't bore you with all of this, suffice it to say that I joined with George Peden to establish a breeding facilities to raise some of the finer falcons for falconry. We were forced to resort to artificial insemination to have any success. It was all very expensive and I for one had to do it on a shoestring budget.
Almost all of the birds produced at my part of the facilities went for release to bolster the populations in the wild. We also produced some hybrids between Prairie Falcons and Peregrines and a few Gyrfalcon and Peregrines. Since it was all through artificial means, what we ended up with was baby falcons that had to be hand raised. Now, nobody can beat mother nature, the best that you can hope for is a fair imitation of a normal raptor. Not as easy as it sounds.
What we mostly ended up with at first was an imprinted spoiled brat that had the possibility of being a dangerous idiotic psychotic raptor. Did I mention that if not real careful, they think you are a parent whose duties are to feed it when ever it is hungry. Screaming loudly and constantly is the way that they signal their needs.
I soon learned that each species had a different age,measured in days, that they did not imprint. They still were as dumb as posts about how to fly or hunt. One other aspect that was interesting is that most of them still thought that they should migrate along with the real hawks. Since they were basically tame and used to people the indicators that it was about to happen was not very apparent.
With Peregrines I felt that the proper age to take one from its parents was exactly 28 days. I also learned that not all raptors were created equally. Just like people, some were psycho's, some were nervous, so much so to be worthless or at least a less desirable prospect. The one to take is the one that calms down first when you present yourself in close the first time. That one will be your best option.
That is the way that I picked Jessie. She knew that she was a falcon, but was young enough to bond to me. A trapped passage will always have respect, and be reserved in relation to the falconer. Jessie doesn't feel that way. She interacts with me as if I was her mate. Therefore I cannot be trusted with food, and will always be scheming to take it away from her. She has worn a hood prior to flying for 12 years. She still will do her best to make it as hard for me every single day as she can. She will allow me to place it on her head, then try to pull her head out at the last second. It sometimes takes four or five times before she will allow me to pull the braces. She thinks of me as her mate. She laid 10 eggs this year, and was as sweet to me as I have ever seen her, at least as long as she was laying. She is as close to a Disney presentation of a raptor with human tendencies as exists today.
She got loose our first year here and returned on her own after three days. She had a full crop, but wanted me to pick her up. Other than that she has not spent a night on her own outside. She is the finest hunting hawk that I have ever had, but she screws with me all the time. Its worth it!
Nov 10
It has been stormy for the last week or so. As compensation, the Sunrises are pretty spectacular.
We are right at the bottom edge of a pretty good storm. The wind was due to come up at 10 AM according to the weather report. While I knew that it would eventually get bad enough that I wouldn't be able to fly, I have found that they are generally an hour or so early with their predictions. Hope had not flown for three days so we made our best time to the rabbit field.
I took a bit different course this morning to avoid being patterned by the Jacks. I also wanted to hunt a spot that I had not been visiting so that Karen could see and follow the hunt with the car. She of course can't keep up on foot, so this allows her to at least see whats happening.
We surprised a few Jacks that got up close, in fact so close that Hope overflew them on the first try, giving them a chance to escape. Quite frustrating for me, as I want to kill something and get back home so that I can fly "sweetie Pie" other wise known as Jessie.( More on her later.) Just as I was about to rejoin Karen in the other field, we jumped a Bunny and Hope burned him down quickly. If she flew Jacks with the same abandonment, she would kill the first one every time.
She was quite proud of this one, and I only heard one little squeak out of him. The Sage was better than waist high, and the flight was out a ways, so I had to search for her. She was apparently hoping that she could avoid me so that she could keep this one all to herself. Unfortunately for her I have been doing this for some time, and soon turned her up. I took four pictures, and I think the rabbit is only visible in one of them.
I fed her a front leg and my tidbits and worked my way to Karen and the car, which was still quite a way off. She chased a couple of Jacks while we were doing that, but couldn't make contact. The wind was beginning to come up, so we hurried back home so that I could fly Jessie.
The wind had risen to about 12 MPH when we got home, so I discarded the thought of using the Drone, and decided to just turn her loose, calling her down to the lure when she indicated that she was done flying. I swung the lure as one would in "Lure Flying", and was surprised to see that she was winded after only one or two passes. Unfortunately my assessment that she was indeed getting old is correct. If she were capable of hunting she would be in condition to fly hard within two weeks or less. I am afraid that we are indeed a pair of old used up hunters. Both crippling around trying to hold on to what we still have. At least neither of us has dementia yet. No second opinions needed.
The day after her leg climbing incident, ( by the way if you envision a linesman climbing a telephone pole, you will get an accurate idea of how she climbed my leg.) I flew her on the drone, and every thing went well, up until I walked up to her. She stood around a bit, reached down and picked up a small chunk of the quail leg, and promptly flew off. This time there was a transmitter on her leg, so I had a bit more security than before. I finished rolling up the line and walked back to the Hangar. She lit on top of the Hangar on the back side. I ignored her. Pretty soon she was peeking around the top trying to see if I was coming or not. When I ignored her, she then started strafing me trying to get me to offer her something. The tables were turned! She had flown off, but neglected to take her lunch, so she still needed me. I continued to ignore her and she began to try harder to get me to call her. Eventually I tossed a bare lure on the ground for her. Now, she knows as well as I do when a lure doesn't have food on it, and will ignore it, normally. Today she was't sure, so she landed on it and waited for me to pick her up. I did so, feeling rather childishly that I had showed her. I find her to be immensely entertaining and a bit frustrating at the same time.
Tuesday, November 7, 2017
Anthropomorphism and Jessie
I have spent my entire life around animals, and as such, very aware of their motivations as well as their limitations. While it is easy to see humans acting like animals, it is rare to attribute such things as perversity, just for the sake of perversity in animals. Which brings me to the subject of Jessie.
Now to get the record straight, I became disillusioned with Disney after Bambi. Yeah, I could see Ole Yellar as an honest and loyal companion that could actually be like that. Even at 8 or 9, I knew dogs like that, and that Venison was good to eat.
The point is that each species has certain traits wired into their DNA that drives what they do and how they will react or act as the case may be. You rarely see any trait built into a falcon that could be related to anything other than a cereal killer. That's a good thing.
I have had falcons that were good enough to be boring, and being the greedy man child that I am, grew tired of them. Not Jessie! Now lest you forget, our relationship is a "love - hate" thingy. She is beautiful, very deadly, willing to tackle anything, and hates to quit while there is game in the field or pond. She is a thinker that honed her tactics to meet the need and almost always came out on top, but my goodness she is as perverse and devious as any over endowed dance hall cutie that knows what she has and will make you pay any price emotionally just to taste of it, then laugh at your weakness. At least I have heard that they are like that, not that I would know personally you understand.
Yesterday she played "keep away" with me until I quit and walked off. Today I put the drone up and she stayed in the field by the house for a change when she came down with the lure. I coiled the line as I walked to where she was. I apparently got a bit too close, so she drug it a couple feet further away. I just stood there while she ate, and considered her, and her actions. If I pursue, she runs, if I retreat, she follows. So when she finished what was on the lure, I ignored her. Normally I am entreating her to get on the fist, and she grudgingly does. However today I ignored her. She ran over, grabbed me by the left foot, then grabbed the right foot and climbed up my leg until I put the fist out. I should have named her Jezebel!
Now to get the record straight, I became disillusioned with Disney after Bambi. Yeah, I could see Ole Yellar as an honest and loyal companion that could actually be like that. Even at 8 or 9, I knew dogs like that, and that Venison was good to eat.
The point is that each species has certain traits wired into their DNA that drives what they do and how they will react or act as the case may be. You rarely see any trait built into a falcon that could be related to anything other than a cereal killer. That's a good thing.
I have had falcons that were good enough to be boring, and being the greedy man child that I am, grew tired of them. Not Jessie! Now lest you forget, our relationship is a "love - hate" thingy. She is beautiful, very deadly, willing to tackle anything, and hates to quit while there is game in the field or pond. She is a thinker that honed her tactics to meet the need and almost always came out on top, but my goodness she is as perverse and devious as any over endowed dance hall cutie that knows what she has and will make you pay any price emotionally just to taste of it, then laugh at your weakness. At least I have heard that they are like that, not that I would know personally you understand.
Yesterday she played "keep away" with me until I quit and walked off. Today I put the drone up and she stayed in the field by the house for a change when she came down with the lure. I coiled the line as I walked to where she was. I apparently got a bit too close, so she drug it a couple feet further away. I just stood there while she ate, and considered her, and her actions. If I pursue, she runs, if I retreat, she follows. So when she finished what was on the lure, I ignored her. Normally I am entreating her to get on the fist, and she grudgingly does. However today I ignored her. She ran over, grabbed me by the left foot, then grabbed the right foot and climbed up my leg until I put the fist out. I should have named her Jezebel!
Monday, November 6, 2017
It looks like winter is coming
Its been an interesting start to November. Cold, windy, and then of all things actual snow!
We got about four inches of snow on Saturday, in which you saw the Kitty checking out the live trap. The cat has not visited the trap again. Hopefully he has gone to a better hunting ground. I was running out of Chickens fast.
https://vimeo.com/241302185 password owyheeflyer
With the snow that heavy I didn't hunt Hope. I had a little spell of the sweats and chills, accompanied by some seriously achy joints. No other symptoms, but I was going through the aspirin's like crazy. So I grabbed a blanky, along with a bottle of Whiskey to wait it out. Not sure what was going on, but now I seem to be about as normal as I get. I just couldn't regulate my body temps for a couple of days.
The snow of course did not last all that long and for the most part melted off by yesterday morning. Of course the change in pressure had both of the Hawks feeling the need to stock up on food. The wind Saturday was blowing in the high 40's, so I fed both birds a maintenance diet, ( practically nothing) hoping that the weather would improve. I hated to walk out the back door as both Hope and Jessie were straining at their bonds hoping that I was actually going to feed them, all the while, too fat to actually fly.
The wind abated around 3 PM, so I got Jessie ready, put the drone up with the new battery. As soon as it got in the air, I could see a dust devil whirl up out at the fence coming our way. I set the drone back down, just in case. Now Dust Devils are a product of the summer, and it for sure wasn't summer out there. I have never seen a Dust Devil later than August. I should have followed my first inclination, but I put the drone up. The wind where we were wasn't that bad, about 8 MPH, but when it got to altitude it began to drift. Now the drone has a setting that runs off of the Satellites and is supposed to hang where you neutralize the sticks. That just wasn't happening at all. I have "fences set up through the Computer that is supposed to keep the drone within 100 yards. Every time I tried to bring it back it wouldn't come back, all it would do was drop rapidly towards the ground. The lure line was pulling so hard against the drone that it couldn't come back. I tried several times to get control and there was just no way at all that was going to happen. By that time Jessie had climbed up into the wind and pulled the lure and the chute loose from the drone. I flipped the switch which would call the thing home and put it on the ground, hoping for the best. Jessie in the meantime had went with the wind and landed out in the Sage about 600 yards away. Without the drag of the lure and all that line it was able to come back and land.
I neglected to mention that yesterday was one of the days where I decided to save time by not putting the transmitter on the little minx. Hoping to save time before the real nasty weather started back up again. I told Karen to watch the drone and tell me what happened to it, while I did my best to mark where Jessie went down. They are harder to find on the ground than one would think. They are also really vulnerable landing in the Sage with food in their feet, so I was hustling as fast as I could.
As I am slogging through the snow and mud to where I think she is, a large female Prairie cruises over the Sage looking for her and trying to figure her chances of taking Jessie's food away. I eventually get a fix on her location by seeing the red parachute, making it possible to follow the string to where Jessie is standing and eating. I use the time by coiling up the chute and line. I stuff it in my vest and Jessie comes to me for the rest of her food. Her Jesses are all wadded up with the Quail and her feet, so I clip my leash into one of the Jesses, figuring that will work until I can get back home again. Jessie eats while I climb fence and walk back to the house. As I approach the yard she finishes the rest of her quail and bates off the fist. To my utter surprise she is not snapped in to the jess as I had believed, and I am left holding an empty leash with nothing on the business end. SHEEZ!
Now Jessie at her best, is still a character. With fronts blowing through with the preview of just how nasty the weather can be, she is a "pain in the butt character". I have always noticed that she takes great pains to keep me humble, and being a top of the line predator that makes a living by seeing or sensing weakness in other creatures, cuts right through all my subterfuge to the very weakest, vulnerable part of me. She automatically knows what I want her to do and almost always does the opposite, or at least tries.
So there she goes, no transmitter, I am out of food, and nothing that I can offer her to get her back. She flies around and lands on the fifth wheel, waiting to see what I am going to do. I tell Karen to keep an eye out for her while I go get a frozen Quail. I put the quail in the new (replaced at the end of August) set it to "Turbo Defrost", and push the button. It runs for about 3 seconds, and goes completely dark. Nothing I can do will make it show life. I take the quail, chop off the legs with a large butcher knife, that I have to hammer through the quailsickle, and dump it in hot water.
I go back outside with the partially defrosted quail legs. She obviously wants more food, as she landed on the shooting table. I approach and she flies off. I take out the lure, toss it on the ground, she strafes it and of course tries to carry it off. Lands a bit further out. I offer her the fist with the food and she flies off again. At this time I tell her to have fun and start off in a huff. I figure either way she will either be out of my hair or willing to come to me - tomorrow. Karen asks me for the food and the glove. I gave it to her and went into the house. Within 5 minutes Karen comes back with her on the fist.
The Snow Geese have been streaking through the area both day and night for the last three days. Skeen after skeen, as far as the eye can see. With the full Moon, they fly all night long. Many of them yesterday flew over the house low enough to shoot, but I don't like Ducks or Geese well enough to pick one of them, so I just wished them well. It was pretty amazing yesterday, but there wasn't a time that the sound of flying Geese was not audible.
Today was a bit better, frosty to be sure, but the wind was down. Hope had not hunted for three days and she wanted to hunt very badly. I gathered everything up and started down the Hwy. I didn't get more than a couple of miles down the road when the dreaded "low tire" lite came on. I turned around and went back home to pump it up. I decided to take it to Jordan Valley to get it fixed, and then hunt. I had picked up a roofing nail, apparently in the yard.
After the tire repair, I drove to the spot that I wanted to hunt. Jordan Valley is about 500 feet higher than here at the house, so there was still snow on the ground there. I decided to give it a try. The snow was pretty thin, so I didn't think it would cause her any problems. She caught the forth Jack to jump. She flew an interception flight and managed to grab him by the butt with one foot. I was very happy. We had walked about 400 feet from the car.
The wind was down when I got back, so I got everything ready for Jessie. This time thing went off without a hitch, even though the wind immediately started up as soon as I got the drone out. We did it any way.
After I no longer needed it, I unplugged the Microwave to check the socket, found it to be good. When I plugged it back in, the Micro wave worked as it was supposed to. "The hurrieder I go the behinder I get"!
We got about four inches of snow on Saturday, in which you saw the Kitty checking out the live trap. The cat has not visited the trap again. Hopefully he has gone to a better hunting ground. I was running out of Chickens fast.
https://vimeo.com/241302185 password owyheeflyer
With the snow that heavy I didn't hunt Hope. I had a little spell of the sweats and chills, accompanied by some seriously achy joints. No other symptoms, but I was going through the aspirin's like crazy. So I grabbed a blanky, along with a bottle of Whiskey to wait it out. Not sure what was going on, but now I seem to be about as normal as I get. I just couldn't regulate my body temps for a couple of days.
The snow of course did not last all that long and for the most part melted off by yesterday morning. Of course the change in pressure had both of the Hawks feeling the need to stock up on food. The wind Saturday was blowing in the high 40's, so I fed both birds a maintenance diet, ( practically nothing) hoping that the weather would improve. I hated to walk out the back door as both Hope and Jessie were straining at their bonds hoping that I was actually going to feed them, all the while, too fat to actually fly.
The wind abated around 3 PM, so I got Jessie ready, put the drone up with the new battery. As soon as it got in the air, I could see a dust devil whirl up out at the fence coming our way. I set the drone back down, just in case. Now Dust Devils are a product of the summer, and it for sure wasn't summer out there. I have never seen a Dust Devil later than August. I should have followed my first inclination, but I put the drone up. The wind where we were wasn't that bad, about 8 MPH, but when it got to altitude it began to drift. Now the drone has a setting that runs off of the Satellites and is supposed to hang where you neutralize the sticks. That just wasn't happening at all. I have "fences set up through the Computer that is supposed to keep the drone within 100 yards. Every time I tried to bring it back it wouldn't come back, all it would do was drop rapidly towards the ground. The lure line was pulling so hard against the drone that it couldn't come back. I tried several times to get control and there was just no way at all that was going to happen. By that time Jessie had climbed up into the wind and pulled the lure and the chute loose from the drone. I flipped the switch which would call the thing home and put it on the ground, hoping for the best. Jessie in the meantime had went with the wind and landed out in the Sage about 600 yards away. Without the drag of the lure and all that line it was able to come back and land.
I neglected to mention that yesterday was one of the days where I decided to save time by not putting the transmitter on the little minx. Hoping to save time before the real nasty weather started back up again. I told Karen to watch the drone and tell me what happened to it, while I did my best to mark where Jessie went down. They are harder to find on the ground than one would think. They are also really vulnerable landing in the Sage with food in their feet, so I was hustling as fast as I could.
As I am slogging through the snow and mud to where I think she is, a large female Prairie cruises over the Sage looking for her and trying to figure her chances of taking Jessie's food away. I eventually get a fix on her location by seeing the red parachute, making it possible to follow the string to where Jessie is standing and eating. I use the time by coiling up the chute and line. I stuff it in my vest and Jessie comes to me for the rest of her food. Her Jesses are all wadded up with the Quail and her feet, so I clip my leash into one of the Jesses, figuring that will work until I can get back home again. Jessie eats while I climb fence and walk back to the house. As I approach the yard she finishes the rest of her quail and bates off the fist. To my utter surprise she is not snapped in to the jess as I had believed, and I am left holding an empty leash with nothing on the business end. SHEEZ!
Now Jessie at her best, is still a character. With fronts blowing through with the preview of just how nasty the weather can be, she is a "pain in the butt character". I have always noticed that she takes great pains to keep me humble, and being a top of the line predator that makes a living by seeing or sensing weakness in other creatures, cuts right through all my subterfuge to the very weakest, vulnerable part of me. She automatically knows what I want her to do and almost always does the opposite, or at least tries.
So there she goes, no transmitter, I am out of food, and nothing that I can offer her to get her back. She flies around and lands on the fifth wheel, waiting to see what I am going to do. I tell Karen to keep an eye out for her while I go get a frozen Quail. I put the quail in the new (replaced at the end of August) set it to "Turbo Defrost", and push the button. It runs for about 3 seconds, and goes completely dark. Nothing I can do will make it show life. I take the quail, chop off the legs with a large butcher knife, that I have to hammer through the quailsickle, and dump it in hot water.
I go back outside with the partially defrosted quail legs. She obviously wants more food, as she landed on the shooting table. I approach and she flies off. I take out the lure, toss it on the ground, she strafes it and of course tries to carry it off. Lands a bit further out. I offer her the fist with the food and she flies off again. At this time I tell her to have fun and start off in a huff. I figure either way she will either be out of my hair or willing to come to me - tomorrow. Karen asks me for the food and the glove. I gave it to her and went into the house. Within 5 minutes Karen comes back with her on the fist.
The Snow Geese have been streaking through the area both day and night for the last three days. Skeen after skeen, as far as the eye can see. With the full Moon, they fly all night long. Many of them yesterday flew over the house low enough to shoot, but I don't like Ducks or Geese well enough to pick one of them, so I just wished them well. It was pretty amazing yesterday, but there wasn't a time that the sound of flying Geese was not audible.
Today was a bit better, frosty to be sure, but the wind was down. Hope had not hunted for three days and she wanted to hunt very badly. I gathered everything up and started down the Hwy. I didn't get more than a couple of miles down the road when the dreaded "low tire" lite came on. I turned around and went back home to pump it up. I decided to take it to Jordan Valley to get it fixed, and then hunt. I had picked up a roofing nail, apparently in the yard.
After the tire repair, I drove to the spot that I wanted to hunt. Jordan Valley is about 500 feet higher than here at the house, so there was still snow on the ground there. I decided to give it a try. The snow was pretty thin, so I didn't think it would cause her any problems. She caught the forth Jack to jump. She flew an interception flight and managed to grab him by the butt with one foot. I was very happy. We had walked about 400 feet from the car.
The wind was down when I got back, so I got everything ready for Jessie. This time thing went off without a hitch, even though the wind immediately started up as soon as I got the drone out. We did it any way.
After I no longer needed it, I unplugged the Microwave to check the socket, found it to be good. When I plugged it back in, the Micro wave worked as it was supposed to. "The hurrieder I go the behinder I get"!
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