Yesterday, the Third, it became clear that I was coming down with something. I have a touch of Bronchitis each winter probably  made worse by the wood stove that we heat our house with. Of course it is result of 30 years of smoking, but I digress. I got out of bed with a horrible cough, nothing else, just a racking cough. Happily Jessie was fat, as was Peg, so I curled up with a book, some Zicam, and enough Brandy to ensure that I would get some sleep.

This morning the sun rose to a better looking day as well as me feeling and sounding better. Well enough to go hawking!

After Karen drove up to get the mail, we loaded up and headed over to the Lake. I was curious to see if the Gyrfalcon was still hanging around, and had a pigeon for him if he was. Jess weighed in at 916 grams today and I was wondering how she was going to act. I have been flying her at 850 or so. I wasn't worried that she would take off,  I just wasn't sure if she would hunt at that weight. I did fly her heavier than that last year, but we worked our way up to it and the weather had been a lot colder as well. Its all attitude for the most part, and she has never been one to take off. I will admit that if the Gyr hadn't been there the last time, I would have waited another day.

When I turned her loose there was an Eagle in the sky, but both he and Jessie ignored each other and we began our walk over to the Lake. Jessie was trying to find a thermal to get some height, but gave up as we approached the Lake. We stood out of sight of the Lake while we waited for her to get in position. She was apparently heavy enough that she was getting tired, as she kept dropping lower. I decided that we needed to make our move or she would be too low to catch anything.

I was quite disappointed to find that there seemed to be nothing but Geese on the Lake. I flushed anyway hoping that there were a few ducks somewhere that I couldn't see and that Jess would get a chance at one of them. The Geese flew, Jessie stooped, and I gaped. Jessie stooped down, leveled out and grabbed a Honker and rode it to the ground way the heck out past the Lake and against the little hill across from the Lake. I yelled to Karen and took off as fast as I could, knowing that there was going to be a battle that Jessie couldn't win without help. For an old, fat, wheezing geezer, I made pretty good time. Betsy was with me and got to them before I did. Curly was still in flush mode and was looking for ducks hiding in the Tules. I could see the Goose, wings spread to their full impressive limit, towering over Jessie, who was just standing there, with who knows what going through her mind. Betsy being a Pointer was much too well mannered to be so crass as to grab a live bird, was running around in all directions at pretty much the same time. The goose bolted and tried to fly off, Betsy and I ran interference and the Goose paused long enough for Jessie to grab him by the base of the neck again. This time I was able to help.                                          

I know that I have told you in the past that Jessie is not afraid of much of anything, especially me, but I have wondered this year if she had not been avoiding Mallards. A few years ago she broke her leg hitting a Mallard Drake. ( green stick break) I know that if there are smaller ducks, she will generally catch one of them. She also hits smaller ducks and grabs the Mallards. It is rare for her to hit a Mallard. I had just about come to the conclusion that she might be a little cautious with the larger game.  (It is not unusual for falcons to avoid the tougher quarry, only catching the brown hen Mallards, and avoiding things like Rooster Pheasants and only catching hens.) Then recently there has been nothing but Mallards, and she has caught at least two. Karen said that there were a few ducks mixed in with the Geese, but there was no hesitation at all. She just decided that she wanted a Goose.

I gave Jessie half of a duck breast after she had fed on the Goose for a while and we started back to the truck. Poor Karen had to carry the Goose as it would not fit in my vest. We of course stopped for a hero shot at the top of the hill.

After she finished the breast that I gave her, I gave her the liver, and heart as well as the head and neck to chew on while we were traveling back home. She did break her first primary on her left wing about 5 inches from the end, and was blood from one end to the other. I gave her a bath, which she promptly jumped into, and started the heater in the shop to dry her out. It will be a while before we go out again. 900 plus grams is too heavy for her at this stage of the game, and she ate every thing that she could hold of some of the richest meat available. So I will throw another log on the fire, pour the brandy, grab a good book and my "blanky". It just doesn't get much better than this.