Subsistence Fishing

Randy and I loaded up the Quad and the quad trailer that I got last year just for this purpose, with a bit more than it could hold, for our fishing trip. As you can see it also included a picnic table to assist with the fish cleaning.

Since we intended to spend a couple of nights, and I don't suffer well, we loaded the trailer with almost every thing we would need. I did forget worms, but they were really not needed at all. We catch Bass on small Panther Martin lures, and Catfish on trash fish. For our food, we took 2 cans of stew, 2 cans of beans, 2 cans of peaches, 5 polish sausages, oil, flour, spices, and two frying pans. We only used one of them. I forgot some potatoes as well. We dined well, with fish for the main course, and homemade canned peaches from Pat Brewster served as a great desert. We took only water (frozen) and coffee to drink, and a water filter pump to purify river water for coffee and to drink. We brought the beans back.

Its a fair trek to get to this spot, so the only possible visitor down there was a possible BLM employee to spray noxious weeds. The last mile or so requires either a quad or walking to get there.

Randy is helping to gather bait and keeping some of the big Bass that he catches to fill his limit of Bass. The limit is 5, which seems a bit silly, since the river is plagued with truly small, Small mouth. Its not hard to catch a limit in nothing flat. I managed to catch a 11 inch or so trout that apparently had not heard that the river is too warm for trout.

Soon we were into the Catfish and this size seemed to be the upper end of the average, although we did catch a few bigger. Randy had one that he wanted a picture of, that managed to get off the stringer before that happened. The cats spin and constantly twist anything that you put them on, and this one managed to untie a granny knot. He took three others with him when he made his break. We also lost a few others that broke a "chain stringer".

The little plastic table set in the river provided about as comfortable a spot to clean fish as I have ever experienced. Normally cleaning a catch of fish has my fun meter pretty well pegged, but this worked out really well. We did set up a production line however, I skinned and Randy filleted them.

Our first day was pretty hot, ( high 90's ) and we drank a lot of water, and used a lot of sunscreen. That evening, after cleaning the last of the fish for the day, we gratefully went into the river to wash some of the grime and sunscreen off our bodies. There is a nice sandy bottom that goes out to about shoulder high in the water.

The next morning we discovered that a visitor had crawled up on our beach to die. A baby Muskrat, wet from the river and with sand in his fur had crawled up behind my tent. Not sure what happened to him, he was just barely alive, but showed no visible marks. We surmised that he might have been a victim of a Rattle snake bite, but being an unknown rodent with an unknown problem we did handle it at all.

The morning was cloudy, and since the weather forecast had called for 30 percent chance of thunder storms, we were prepared for some bad weather. We were not disappointed when thunder and lightning started popping above our heads. When the flash and sound are simultaneous you know you are right in the middle of the storm. We took refuge in our tents to wait out the storm.

Enlarge this picture and you can see the rain just pouring down. It rained hard for about 15 minutes and then the storm moved on to cover another 30 percent of the landscape.

It didn't seem to hurt the fishing at all, and we cleaned a lot of fish that day. In the afternoon we walked upriver to try for some bass. The Bass were biting on almost every cast and we caught and released fish for at least a couple of hours, keeping only the bigger ones.

We finished cleaning our Bass as dusk settled into the Canyon. We took our baths and again retired after the evening show of Night Hawks, Swallows, Vaux Swifts, and Bats hawking bugs. The only man made sounds we heard were two planes.  The rest were sounds of the bird that inhabit the river, as well as Quail, Pheasants and Chukar.

The next morning we packed before the heat got too bad, and made our way out of the canyon. Along the way we ran across this denizen of the Oregon Desert. The ones here are really quite large compared to other populations in the Great Basin.

 As you can tell they have great camouflage. Click on the picture and enlarge it enough so that you can see him.

They say that they bleed from the eyes when distressed. Apparently he wasn't that concerned about being handled.

Randy did quite well as far as winter food was concerned. He left this morning with 26 pounds of Catfish fillets, and enough memories of the High Desert to perhaps last him another year.

Pack Rats as a coat?

Thankfully the Pack Rat invasion is starting to taper off a bit. They are still there, one woke Curly and I up this morning at 3:30 AM clanking around on the back porch. Unfortunately he didn't make it to the "Electronic Rat Zapper" that I had waiting for him and his ilk.

http://www.amazon.com/Agri-Zap-RZUIR1-Zapper-Ultra/dp/B000BWFESU/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=home-garden&qid=1280502999&sr=8-1

Randy Carnahan, a friend for many years, came over for a fishing trip on the Owyhee. We had planned to work our way to the river and camp for a couple of days, to see if he could put together a supply of Catfish for the winter. As I was doing the chores before we departed I found that another one of the big ones had met his demise in the attic of the Tack (cat house) room. He wasn't quite as big as the 12 inch one earlier, but he was no slouch either. Randy had earlier wise cracked that I should make a coat, so I presented him with the rat. Randy has tanned hides since he was a kid, so we proceeded to the shop.

The interesting part of the entire exercise is that each and every whisker can be moved independently. Each is connected to a tendon. They do have a serious "pot belly", but they are muscular little critters, perfectly designed to be a serious pain in the butt.

The darker pattern in their back are apparently extra blood vessels to dissipate heat? 

 The hide is then salted and rolled up to cool in my outside refrigerator for later tanning.

July 25th

This was last nights sunset. There are Night Hawks flying all over catching bugs and Mosquito's in the fading light. Swallows were also plentiful, doing their fair share of Mosquito control. Even though the creek is just below the house, we have very few Mosquito's up at the house. What does come up here
are handled by the birds.

Today was Sue's hunting day, so made our way to the hunting field as soon as I finished the morning chores. Her weight was up a bit more than usual because I have been tidbitting her heavily when I pick her up to go in the shop or the weathering area. Still trying to figure out what triggers the aggressive behavior, but it is something to do with those areas. I suspect that I have been a little too abrupt and expecting too much from her in these areas. She is such a quick study, that I suspect that I have missed a step that was obviously important to her. I normally do not tidbit a bird that I am picking up to go hunting, but that also comes later in the training cycle, and I should have been doing so with her. No two birds react the same, and the falconer needs to be smart enough to remember that.

When we started down the road to where I expected to hunt, Sue flew off the fist in pursuit of a half grown Bunny running in the Sage. It hid before she could get that close to it, and she landed in the Sage. I called her to the fist, and we began bumping Bunnies right and left. There must have been about 4 of them ducking and dodging through the Sage. She kept trying, but obviously not hard enough as she kept coming up empty footed. I crossed from a rocky ridge through a large patch of Med. Thistle, and there must have been at least five Jacks hiding in that. She gave chase to two of them with no luck. I was a bit surprised that she was also considering Jacks as prey, but very pleased. The rabbits were every where this morning and we suffered no shortage of running targets, just cooperating ones.

We got over into the Hoodoo's and she was upping her game a bit with each miss, and again made a pretty good try at a Jack. I really wanted her to get her feet into another Jack, as they are easier to catch, since they don't escape down the little cracks and holes in the Lava. Besides they are the end quarry that we will be going after. As we were skirting one of the Lava Hoodoo's I looked up to see a Jack sitting on the rocks watching us at about 25 yards. Knowing that she would not have a clue or a chance at catching this guy, I decided to try to wing him with the pistol that I carry with me. It is a Ruger Auto with a Red Dot scope, just the thing for old codgers with failing eyesight. I got the pistol out, held it between my knees to turn on the sight, (There is a battery that lights up the dot.) then had to flip up the scope covers.  I failed to take the safety off, and the Jack decided to go somewhere else. I'm not sure if you have ever tried to do all that, with a hawk on the fist, and without shooting yourself in the foot, or worse, but the resemblance to a Bear Cub with mittens came to mind. I holstered the pistol and started that way hoping that I would get another chance. I guess the Jack was curious as he jumped back up on the rock again. I popped him with the pistol.  Sue was off, slamming into his head. He was still jumping, so as far as she is concerned, she caught and killed him.

I gave her a front leg after she calmed down, and we made our way back to the car. She finished the front leg and one from the small Jack that she killed her last trip. She hopped into her box for the trip home when she finished.

This will be the last time I can fly her until late next week as I have a friend coming over and we are going camping and fishing for the first part of the week. I really wanted and needed her to be successful today. Nothing succeeds like positive reinforcement, and kicking screaming rabbits supply that like nothing else can. Karen will be handling and feeding her while I am gone. It will give her a chance to show Sue that she is part of the team as well.

I describe some of the things that are necessary for a falconer to do rather reluctantly, for in this day and age of such extreme political correctness, most people never have to get their hands bloody to survive. While we as a race can leave our dirty work to others, nature and the creatures of nature do not have that luxury. Falconry by its very definition is a blood sport, any thing less is nothing more than a pet keeper. This period of training and discovery for Sue is thankfully a short one, but necessary for her to reach her potential as a hunting hawk. Soon my role as a teacher will evolve to nothing more than transportation and a flushing tool to give her an opportunity at them. She will not need my help to catch her food. I eagerly await that day and the contest for survival between two evenly matched opponent's, that is what falconry is about.

Sue's first kill!

We got a fairly good start today. Karen took pity on me and put the mosquito spray in the car. I'm not saying that I would have left it behind, but I'm not betting against it either. Apparently she had her doubts as well.

Sue's weight was in an acceptable range, and once we started walking, she was all eyes. With one exception, Jack Rabbits. Several flushed out in front of us, and while she saw them, they didn't merit pursuit. I found when starting Peg, that a Jack flushing at our feet would trigger a chase, but more than 20 yards away was ignored.

There is a lot of water there, as flood irrigation is used to water the Wheat fields that border the Sage. This is the reason that there are so many mosquito's in the area. This time with the exception of a few spots between my eyes that I missed with the spray, I was immune to the hordes of the little buggers.

Sue made a couple of good serious chases for Bunnies that flushed in front of us. For the most part she rode the fist quite well, and only made forays for tidbits a couple of times. In the picture above, Sue remembered the spot that she caught the Bunny that I shot for her, and flew down to check and make sure that there wasn't something left there for her to eat.

After cruising through the sage, she came for a tidbit, and we walked through the rest of the little strip hoping to find another one. She decided to go exploring again and hopped into the sage for another look. A hen pheasant took that opportunity to make her escape. I called Sue back to the fist just in case there were more. She sat for a bit and went back to exploring. As soon as she hit the ground a poult Pheasant about the size of a large Quail flushed out of the weeds. She of course didn't see it. I called her back and walked all through the swamp, finding nothing but water and Mosquitos. I decided to traverse the other side just in case there were some there. A small rabbit bolted right at our feet and Sue was off in a flash, slashing through the heavy Sage after it. The screams of the rabbit gave testimoney to her resolve and success. I stood for a bit amazed at our luck. That kind of stuff never happens. Most generally it is like pulling teeth to get a young hawk started. Poor old Peg never got any sort of break like that. What ever, I'll take it.

After I crawled around the other side, I could see that it wasn't a Bunny as I had thought but a small half grown Jack. Sue handled him quite easily and killed him without my help.

I let her come back to reality, they zone out for a while after grabbing game, then tossed her a hind leg from the last Bunny and removed the Jack while she ate the leg.

Once she finished the leg, I offered her the other one to eat while we made our way back to the car. I will grant you that the poor little critter was not in the trophy class, but its sacrifice and the resulting influence on Sue and her hunting is much larger than I can explain in print. Thankful, and humbled at the experience we made our way back home.

You may wonder that I didn't let her eat the Jack that she caught. The reason is parasites. Almost all the older Rabbits will have tape worms and other parasites in their stomach and guts. At a certain point leaving them with the game is necessary especially on the first few, but I try to limit that as much as I can depending on the raptor, and the food type.

Again I was struck with the amount of road kills while traveling to the hunting area. There is at least one dead rabbit every mile, sometime many more. The Ravens and Eagles had all filled their crops on fresh rabbit. I checked the two Eagles that I saw sitting on poles along the road and all were bulging with food. Even the Vultures were eating fresh meat in Arock. The predators will prosper this year.

Sue B, field trip!

It was tough, but I forced myself to get enough ambition to get the chores done, pick up Sue and head for the rabbit fields. I say forced, because I seem to really like laying around the house drinking coffee and cussing at the politicians on TV. However I did manage, and even took every thing with me that I would need with one exception. Mosquito Spray. I went back to the house to get it and Karen told me that it was on the passenger side of the truck. I heard car, and since I was taking the car, no problem.

Sue, followed her usual routine of several aggressive moves at my face and a few screams, with which I responded with a loud WHAAAAAT? that seemed to blow her off the fist. After my usual vigorous petting for such behavior, I set her on the scales. Her weight was just right, and she climbed into her travel crate with no problems, and we set off.

The morning was just right, and game seemed to be every where. Pheasants and deer were in the fields at Arock , dead rabbits littered the hwy about every hundred feet. It looks to be a good year. When I parked the car, I could see three Jacks at various distances in the Alfalfa fields. I considered trying to hit one of them with the pistol, but decided to give her some time to see what her reactions were going to be. She was still in the crate, and I was afraid that I was only going to have another "road kill" for her. Since I am not training a Vulture, I really wanted a bit more action.

I did at least three searches of the car and could turn up nothing that looked like Mosquito repellent. They were happy, and Sue got quite a lot of manning and training in ignoring arm flapping and cussing. If I die of West Nile, I will blame Karen, whose only defense is that as usual, I didn't listen to her.

She came out of the crate with no problem, and we started our trek. Up until this time, I had not walked with her in the sage and called her to the fist, so I was watching her reactions pretty closely. We had not gone far when a bunny scooted out underfoot through the sage. She flashed after it, but it of course got into a burrow and she turned around to come back to me. I was lost in the moment, kicking brush and whooping and damn near scared her to death. She didn't go far however and came back to the fist for a tidbit. After that we didn't see much in the way of Rabbits for a while, at least not close ones. Sue was very interested in every thing around her, and I was very pleased. She would jump off the fist to a bush every now and then to get a tidbit, and I didn't discourage her at all. She never allowed me to get more than 25 feet away from her at any time. Later she will learn that if I whistle, she gets a tidbit, if not, nothing. That will stop her flying off just to get food, but that comes later.

After quite a bit of walking and swatting, I began to believe that I might have erred in not shooting the gimmie at the beginning of the field. I did try several times to hit Jacks with the pistol, and of course missed as they were quite a ways off. The report would spook her a bit at first, but she would return with no problem. I decided to change fields to one that has a lot of lava "hoodoo's" that harbour a lot of Bunnies, since the Jacks size seemed to be putting her off. They were flood irrigating the alfalfa fields that dot the area, and it was pure torture to get any where near the water that seemed to be every where. We had walked to the area of the Hoodoo's and were seeing several bunnies, but no chases as yet. At the edge of a wet, mosquito infested patch of grass, I saw a rabbit run through the brush. I followed slowly hoping to get a shot at it. Finally I saw a rabbit stop in the brush in front of me. I fired and a bunny started jumping up and down. That was enough for Sue and she dived into the sage after it.

I gave thanks to the Bunny for its sacrifice and to the falconry Gods for their help.

She of course was very excited. This was the first one that she had her feet on that was still moving. I allowed her time to get used to the idea, and eventually moved to where I could see her, and gave her a few tidbits to get her juices flowing enough for her to move to the next step. I allowed her to eat quite a lot of Bunny before dragging her and the rabbit out of the bush. After a while, I gave her the rabbit leg that I had taken along with me, and got her on the fist and secured. We made it back to the car with minimal loss of blood on my part, and she went into her box with no fuss at all.

New Camera, and Sue update.

Some of you may remember, I have been shopping for a new camera with better quality and longer recording time. I had good advise, that I of course chose to ignore, and bought a Holdr HD camera. While it took some very good videos, I could not play them on my TV, had to use Quick Time to view them, had to buy Quick Time Pro from Apple to edit it. (The program would not read music without buying another program.)  If I converted it to AVI, there was no sound and the quality was degraded with each conversion. Some of the clips wouldn't play. The Camera had something wrong with it so that the computer would not recognize it. They offered to repair or replace the camera. No thanks!

 

I decided to go with John Bickham's recommendation of the Tachyon XC. It is bigger, but quite a bit cheaper than the Vholder. My problem was with the mounting of the camera. John put his on his wind screen and his apparently does not have as much vibration as mine. I tried using a side mount with a foam base, but there was harmonic vibration in a test that I did this morning.

So I reverted to my original mounting point and put it on the nose. The view is better and the vibration is less.

 

I was a bit short on camera threaded screws, but this one will do until I get another one. You will notice that there is no padding under the swivel mount, but I think the video is acceptable.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Y7C-lShJdc

 

I just viewed it on You Tube, and of course the quality sucks, It looks great on the computer and on the TV, but I guess one can't complain, You Tube is free.

 

Now for Ms Cranky Pants.

 

I waited a full day after her last lesson with a dead Jack Rabbit, and decided to change her flying time to morning. That way she doesn't have to sit there and watch the other two birds eat, and the wind will be a lot quieter. The game will also be more active, and perhaps I will have a better chance to find something for her to chase. Right now she is pretty locked onto me for food, and expects me to call her to the fist. I was considering where I could take her to find another rabbit, when I notice that there are three in the field below the pool, so I decided to be lazy and see if I could get one of them for her. Perhaps I should check the sighting on my rifle, either that or find some meds for my apparent palsy. I managed to kill this one stone dead. I picked her up and called her to the fist a time or two and then walked out to where it was. She eventually landed on it and I again let her eat her fill, before putting her in the weathering area for the day. This morning when I went out to set the birds out, she again threatened me, so I wallowed her unmercifully, petting her head, back  and goosing her every now and then. Her weight was up quite a bit, so tomorrow I will take her to a rabbit field and let her look at running rabbits. Perhaps we can find some half grown stupid ones. 

I am considering changing her name. Sue B comes to mind. Perhaps Sue the B?

Sue's first taste of fresh Jack Rabbit.

As the evening zephyrs subsided to gale force, I picked up Sue for her evening lesson. I could see the Jack Rabbits coming into the field below the house and it was my plan to shoot one for her,  to let her know that they were the preferred item on the menu. I had the 22 rifle and pistol set up and ready, so I weighed Sue and activated her transmitter. As I got back to the patio, I could see a Jack just past the garden fence, so I put Sue on the barbecue and got the rifle. Now once upon a time I could shoot well enough to make almost anyone envious. That  was then, and this is now. I missed that rabbit twice, and killed it stone dead on the third shot. Not what I was trying for, but better than nothing.

I called Sue to the fist, and started walking through the gate. She found another rock jack to fly to, so I called her again. She came to me quickly, and I walked to where I had seen the rabbit last. It was dead, so I picked it up and gave it a toss to an open spot in the weeds. Sue looked at it, and swooped down on the rabbit, and began doing her best to kill it. She was excited! She had her wings mantled out, head down with all her crest feathers standing straight up. I picked a spot with no thorns or Goat heads and sat down to watch her. After a few minutes I  started flipping pieces of meat to her and giving the food whistle. She finally came back to earth and started tearing at the Jack. I let her eat most of the shoulder and rib cage before I moved at all. I would take a few steps and she would drop her head, looking at me from the side. I would stop until she started to eat again. Finally I was close enough to reach her, and started giving her tidbits that I had prepared for her earlier. She would stop and take them from my finger. I got one of her jesses and secured her with the leash. At that point I just sat back and allowed her to eat all she wanted.

When she started slowing down, I offered her the chunk of rabbit that I had prepared earlier and picked her up on the fist while she continued to eat my offering. I stepped over the rabbit and put the remainder in my bag. I took her into the shop and secured her to her perch with the rest of her meal. She showed  her appreciation by trying to foot me. I chose to ignore it.

All in all the falconry Gods have smiled on her training. So many things can go wrong, that will adversely shape the birds attitude and be very hard to overcome. Every thing has gone smoothly with Sue.

It will take her at least a day to put all that food over and be hungry enough to fly again. That should be Monday. Since it is so hot, I may change her feeding time to mornings when it is a bit cooler. That way she won't have to set on her perch watching the other two birds eating all they can hold, ( I feed them in the mornings ) and the temps and winds will be a bit more comfortable. I will walk with her in places that the rabbits frequent to see what her reaction to running rabbits will be. If necessary, I will shoot another rabbit for her. It will take several setups like this before she learns enough of their tricks and evasions to actually be able to make any contact with running rabbits.

Free, Free at last!

Sue flew free tonight. It has been 14 days since I picked her up from Marsha. Had we not had some misunderstandings about who was the boss, she would have flown free a couple of days ago. I think we finally have that worked out. While I have not tried to hurry her along,  she has set a pretty good pace for me to keep up with.

My general method of starting a hawk or falcon is to get it used to me and people movement. ( Manning ) I teach it that I am the source of food, and if you want it, you had best take advantage of it when offered. It will not be there if they delay, and it only gets farther away at each refusal. ( I hate to chase a bird, and they are smart enough to train you if you are not careful. ) Once the bird is coming to the fist as soon as it is offered, I then introduce it to the lure. When they respond immediately to the lure, it is time to teach them to follow me. Once they learn to keep up with me when I am walking,  live game is introduced to the lesson. After that it is hunting as often as they can be ready to do so. Of course the outline here is tailored for a Harris Hawk. Falcons require different training after flying free.

Two days ago, Sue and I had our last misunderstanding as I tried to pick her up to take her out of the shop to put her in the weathering area. That evening she was reluctant to come to me in the weathering area for food. I gave her a good chance to come to me, but she turned her back and I left, coming back 30 minutes later to try again. The result was the same, so I left her outside without feeding her. (That is a good indication of whether a bird is ready to hunt. any hesitation, and they don't go) The next evening, she came to the fist and we went for a bit longer walk than usual down the runway and back to the yard for training. She did well, flying several times to the fist for tidbits. I threw the lure in front of her with a rabbit leg on it. She ate the rest of her meal on the lure. I was able to pick her up on the fist with some tidbits with no problem. Last night after Karen and I clipped a tail mount on her center deck feather for a radio, was the same routine only I tossed the lure away from her, she went after it with enthusiasm.

Karen is attending an Oregon Falconry meeting, so the dogs and I are "batching" it, therefore there are no pictures of this event.

Today has been the hottest day so far, so I waited until the sun went down to pick her up for her lesson. She was anxious to see me, and came to the fist with little hesitation. I found her weight to be down a bit more than I had thought, ( 930 with a 12 gram transmitter ). Actually that wasn't a bad thing, its just that I think some of her aggression is due to a lower weight than she wants to be. She was nice however and respectful while I got her ready to fly. We went out and did a shortened walk just around the hanger while I took her swivel off. When we got by the fence, she flew to it so that I could call her to the fist. I maintained about 15 feet between us, and she ran down the fence screaming quietly as she did so. When she could go no further, she flew the rest of the way to me. I kept walking and put her on a stone barbecue and kept walking, her flight was about 20 feet this time. I walked on and sat her on the front of my drift boat, and at about 20 feet stuck my fist up, but kept walking. She came so fast that she didn't think that she could land, ( she is fast and flies harder than Peg ever did.) so she circled around and landed on the top of the hanger. That put her about 25 yards away and in jeopardy. A King bird has a nest on the support for the transformer that supplies power for the house. Both parents were zipping her, making it very uncomfortable to sit on the roof. She flew down but again was going too fast to land and went back for some more bobbing and weaving. I kept walking and she finally flew to me, controlling her flight enough that she could land. I walked on around the hanger and back to the grass. When I got close enough, I threw the lure to the grass and she was on it with great enthusiasm.  After she finished the food on the lure, I had to coax her to me by throwing tidbits in the grass between us. She has about convinced herself that there is more meat on that lure than can be seen without close examination. Now that I have her convinced of its magic, I will not use it again unless there is an emergency or I am forced by circumstance to use it to get her back. Most hawks and accipiters regard a lure the same as they do a kill. The point of this is that it can be overdone.

I am very pleased with her, and eagerly await her introduction to the rabbits that seem to be very much on the upswing this year. She is very flashy, and I expect great things from her.

Call me Sue!

I have had several people comment on whether naming her sue was to make her mean enough to be able to handle a cruel world. I actually didn't, and from the looks of things didn't need to. It appears that she has enough moxie built in to take care of the problem. My intention was to be able to call "Peggy- Sue" and have both birds respond.

I have noticed in the last few days that she has been flirting with the thought that she could threaten me, and have caught the beginnings of several aggressive moves. This is totally out of character for a young of the year Harris to act that way. When they are three or four, yeah. I have been thinking of how to handle it, and finally last night I decided on a course of action to nip this problem in the bud, while I still can. Harris Hawks are very social and the young stay with the parents and even help raise the young from succeeding broods, so they develop a pecking order that keeps things running on an even keel. I have seen a female whose kid was getting too pushy, tower over the young one and scream at them. This is generally enough to keep order and perspective in the young ones.

This morning I picked her up and put her on the scales to weigh her, and found that her weight was just about right. When I picked her up off the scales she did it again, screaming and flaring her wings at me. I gave her my best blood curdling scream with barred teeth, and she fell off the fist. When she regained the fist, I acted as though nothing had happened, and took her outside to the weathering area. When I tied her down she did it again, and I treated her to another aggressive scream and she again fell off the perch in surprise.

This evening after I had cut up her meal for the lesson, I went out to get her, and she jumped to the fist with no sign of aggression. I weighed her and we, and the dogs went for our walk. When we came back I set her on the fence and called her to the fist. She did well, with no signs of fear or aggression. I am not sure what her thoughts are, or why, but she is too big and well armed to mess around with. Hopefully I have taken the right course with her and she will stop this foolishness.

Click on the pictures and they will open to full size, hold control and roll the wheel and they will enlarge.

Sue, and sunsets.

This was the view to the West into the setting sun, while in the East the view was just as spectacular if not more.

You can see that there is rain at the bottom. I quite frankly have never seen a cloud that looked like this ever before. The sky in between was just as blue as could be.

Now for Sue. She is quite different. All birds are different, but she excels in different. She is aggressive! Much more so than any Harris that I have ever seen. She is very smart, and three days ago I got her to walk to me one step on the back of the couch. One day ago, we took a walk down the runway and when we got back I sat her on the fence rail and got her to jump the length of the leash to the fist. I called her four times and then gave her a pigeon wing to pull on. Tonight we went for a walk again and upon approaching the fence, she tried to fly to the fence when we got within 15 feet. I find it amazing that a Harris can remember what produced food in just one lesson.  I had found some Bunny in the freezer (low calorie stuff ) to feed her, so I was able to feed her more than she had been getting. Tonight she flew 10 feet to the fist. I gave her a Bunny hind leg to finish her meal. The most food she has had so far. It appears at this time she will fly in the middle 900 gram range. She weighed 32 .5 ozs tonight. That is pleasingly heavy.

With a Harris Hawk it becomes a challenge to find food that is low enough in calories that one can be fed enough for the bird to feel satisfied, but not make her fat. When she is hunting, you can skip a day, so you can give her too much food and make up the difference by not giving her anything the next day. However when beginning training, you need to keep the lessons going so that the bird gets past the creance as quickly as you can. ( training line)

 If I can keep her aggression confined to quarry and not the handler, she is going to be a good one.

Sue update, and rat hunts!

It is time for an update. Sue is doing quite well, and shows every sign of being a great hunting hawk. She is not afraid of much of anything, yet is calm and very tame. I have changed the way that I am handling her based on her reaction to me. With Peg, I kept her in the house on a pole perch to tame her down. So far, Sue has not seemed to need that. It is a bit of a hassle to have a bird in the house that is capable of crapping in a large circle, so neither Karen or I are displeased.

I have been bringing her in and sitting with her while I catch up on the latest political crap. Actually I try to quit before my mood gets too foul to handle. :-) Of course the dogs, Curly, Indie and Betsy are moving around, and Sue doesn't like them at all, so far.

She will get over it in time. I do not have to use the dogs for Rabbits, so its not that big of a deal. If the Chukar populations are good this year, then they will soon learn that the dogs are a plus, and work with them.

Sue is weighing around 940 grams right now. about an ounce and half more than Peg flies. She is accepting tidbits and about to start stepping to the fist for them. I am in no real hurry to get her flying, and will take it at her own pace, but I will keep her as fat as I can to cut down on the vocals.

Living here in the desert is great, but it does have some downsides. Of course there is the wind that seems to blow most of the time. Since it is generally late in the day, when it is the hottest, it actually doesn't hurt, as long as it is less than 10 MPH. This year has been worse than anything that even the locals can remember, but what the heck, it could be worse. One of the other downsides is the rodents. I run a trap line for Mice, catching them in the attic, over the cool room and in the Motor home. It is nothing to get 4 or 5 a day, every day! The other and by far the worst is the Pack Rats!

http://www.desertusa.com/mag99/apr/papr/packrats.html

The above link should tell you all that you would ever want to know about them. This is the time of the year that the young are trying to find territories for themselves. This year seems to have suited the species very well, and the populations are booming. They are every where and in to every thing. I talked with Harry Stoddart yesterday and he was telling me that he lost his food freezer because a Pack Rat got into the back of it and chewed all the wiring up badly enough that it was not repairable. Any vehicle left for any amount of time will have one building a nest under the hood. I have one living somewhere around the Chicken house that spends the night packing the feed tray as full of dried Chicken crap that he can, so that the chickens can't eat his hoard of Egg Maker. With all that food, he seems impervious to the lure of anything that I can put on a Rat trap trigger. I'll find something to tempt him yet.

Every morning Curly conducts his Rat hunts. Most mornings he is successful, and although killing rats is not what he was designed for, Brittany's are very adaptable. Terriers bite and shake making for a quick end to the problem. Curly, more used to pointing, uses a "bite and spit" method that reduces the amount of bitten lips and noses. His biggest asset however is his nose. Of course he needs help, and that is where I come in.

One of their hiding places are these Rock Jacks. A water hose will eventually "flush" one out of them where Curly can catch them.

This morning was no exception. I was still lying in bed, 6 AM, trying to discover how crippled up the night had left me. ( you old farts will know what I mean by that.) Karen let the dogs out, and it didn't take long for Curly to find that one was hiding on the back porch by the entrance to the root cellar. I have a 55 gallon drum down there that I store the empty pop cans in until we can get to a store, and apparently he was hiding there. So I put on my "Berkies" to improve my mobility and went to help. It didn't take long, and there were very few places to hide, so Curly soon had him. Now the routine is that when he catches a Rat, he gets a Dog Cookie. Works out great for both of us. He is always very proud of himself and if you are quick it is possible to get a picture. He soon spits it out and goes straight for the cookie jar. Karen got the camera, but was hampered by trying to keep my wrinkled old naked butt out of the picture, which was fine with me, so I took the camera, and she held the dog still. I was surprised to learn today that the little "Squeaky toys" that you buy for dogs, make the same sound as a chomped Pack Rat. No wonder he likes them.

The extra one was hiding in the pool cover compartment. These are the White Footed Pack Rat. They get pretty large, about as big as a Fox Squirrel. The reason their fur is so soggy is that he tends to slobber when he bites them. A nice side effect of these hunts is that Peg gets them for breakfast.

We also missed one that had burrowed under the Hawk house where I am keeping some replacement Chicks. Perhaps soon we will run out of Pack Rats. Yeah right!

Sue

Well, Sue has finally arrived. Karen and I drove to Vale, Oregon to meet Marsha Flamm, the lady who bred her. Sue is one of her first breeding successes with Harris Hawks. She was visiting Joe Atkinson who lives in Vale, and was kind enough to bring her down to me. A great deal all the way around.

Sue is about 14 weeks old, and is very calm and easy to handle, which is one of the traits of young Harris Hawks.

I was checking to see if I could feel her keel, one of the ways that one can judge condition on a Hawk. She really does not have one that I could feel, so the little girl is pretty fat. Even though she is very malleable, she has not been handled very much at all, and is unsure what my intentions might be.

Peggy, who has almost finished her molt, is looking very mature, and grumpy in this picture. She will get over it, but right now she wants the kid to know who is the boss around here.

Sue is doing her best to not be a threat. She looks a lot smaller than Peggy, but in actuality, has a larger frame and will most likely fly at a heavier weight. I will be starting her training tomorrow. Mostly it will be a lot of handling, with very little food given in small amounts and very often. I will get her used to us and the dogs and to being carried on the fist.

Joe Atkinson flies and rehabilitates Eagles, which was the purpose of Marsha and Mark Hunt, her companions, visit to Oregon. Joe took us out to a hill top outside of Vale to fly a female Golden, Widow.

     Joe put a transmitter on her tail just in case.

The idea is to let her search out a thermal, get to a hunting height, then give her a lure to call her down. She is familiar with the game and will go up several times. Joe feeds her anywhere from two and half to three quail each session.

Joe has chosen this area because of the thermals and upslope winds that can give an Eagle a little help in getting height. Eagles do best in wind, the stronger, the more they like it. When she got her height she came over us waiting for Joe to throw the lure. The picture below is with a telephoto. She was quite a bit higher than the picture indicates.

Eagles, when they stoop do not fold up like a falcon. They basically fold their wings about halfway, drop their feet and come bombing down out of the sky. With their wings out a bit they can still control their angle and flight path. Even though it is slower than a falcon, it is still faster than their prey and very hard to avoid.