Starting the new year right, by Hawking

Our temps have been really cool, yesterday started out at -4. Tami's sister, Tara, and brother Travis have come for a visit and in Tara's case to do a little hawking. I have actually kept the birds going, waiting for Tara to arrive. Harris's just don't do well in this kind of weather. The biggest problem is the snow, or in our case, ice. There is no more snow, just ice. We will go rabbit hunting today, or perhaps it will just end in a hike.

Tara and Tami both decided that they wanted to become Falconers last fall and went with hawking with me when I was first starting Sue. Tara had quite a bit of personal things to take care of this fall, and while she has passed her test, just hasn't had the time to finish the steps needed to actually get a bird. She is being sponsored by a friend in her home area, but time constraints and business has conspired to keep her out of the field more than she likes. She has been looking forward to a week of hard hawking. Unfortunately this time of the year is the worst for us.

We started the day at 0830 as the sun came up, on a raptor viewing trip. The Portland area where she lives has a few raptors but nothing compared to this area of the high desert. We managed everything from Bald Eagles to Kestrels. Bruce Haak rolled in at 1:30 with his two falcons for a bit of duck hunting at the ranch. I picked up Jessie and we were off to the next phase of the day.

Jessie has been going through a dry spell with every thing, especially the ducks, conspiring against her to keep her from catching anything for the last week or so. Actually the last time she caught a duck was before the snow came. She was almost desperate to go flying and I was sure that with any kind of a chance at all she would do well. Hunting on creeks and ponds that you cannot check for ducks is just asking for every thing to go wrong. There are spots that seem to almost always hold ducks, but the key word here is "almost". Some of our problem has been caused by hitting those "sweet" spots too often, and the last two trips have been to spots that I have hit too hard and the ducks were elsewhere. The lake has been good, but Jessie has been missing there due to a unique problem that has not bothered her prior to this year. She is flying higher this year than ever in the past, and by being high, the ducks have the opportunity to get back on the creek before she can get to them. Even if she hits them, they are safe in the water.

Unlike most days, I had enough of a supporting cast that we could force the ducks over land where she could get to them. I gave Bruce a radio, and asked him to get close enough to the Lake from the top that he could see the trees, but wait out of sight while Tami, Tara and I got into position below the dam. I turned Jessie loose out of sight of the Lake and she lost no time getting over the Lake and holding tight circles right above the Lake. I knew from her actions that there were ducks there. She is almost as good as a Pointer when she is serious.

I called Bruce on the radio asking him to flush, while we were going to act as blockers. The ducks came off the lake climbing above the trees on the lower side of the Lake, quacking in alarm. Jessie came streaking down out of the sky as the ducks made the turn towards the swamp below the Lake, zeroing in on a hen Mallard. She saw us blocking her escape zone and tried to turn back towards the Lake. Jessie was not to be denied however, and smacked her into the top of one of the trees. The duck hung up in the bare limbs of the tree, while Jessie used the rest of her momentum  to whip around in a loop and grab the duck while it was struggling trying to get out of tree limbs. They tumbled down to the ground fighting. The duck broke loose, and escape was within a yard or less for the duck. Jessie was not about to lose this one however. She and the duck had cleared a pretty good patch of snow by the time that I got there to help her. We sat there and talked while Jessie got to enjoy her duck. I was a bit surprised to find that the duck was not packing as much fat as one usually sees in Ducks that have come down from the Northern provinces. I am not sure if the Northern ducks have not gotten to us or the foods that they normally pack on the fat with, is not available. For whatever reason, this duck had barely an eight of an inch of fat on its breast. It was in good flesh, just no reserves.



We went back to the ranch, dropping Tami off to relieve her daughters from baby sitting duties. Tara, Travis and I went through the ranch to another spot to fly Purdey, a passage Tundra Peregrine. While Bruce was getting ready, I saw several Ducks landing in the area that we intended to hunt. On the way there, Betsy was continually going on point at the Quail that were hiding in the Grease wood scrub. Bruce turned Purdey loose and she began to self hunt, stooping on running Bunnies and the various Quail as well as ducks swimming in the creek. She finally ran out of things to harass and was finally getting a bit of altitude, when along came a Northern Harrier that wanted to screw things up. They chased each other a bit before the Harrier decided that she might be over matched. She finally came over us and we rushed the ditch together forcing the ducks out over the ground. Purdey lost no time in grabbing a Gadwall. While Bruce took care of her, I took Betsy back to the Quail and we had a good time finding and pointing Quail. When we had finally cleaned the brush of Quail, I called Betsy to me and we went back to the creek where Bruce would be coming back. I had a hard time getting Betsy away from there earlier, and she went back to insisting that there was still Ducks in the reeds. We were standing about 20 feet from the reeds and Betsy was homing in on a scent right in front of us. To our surprise a Duck flushed from in front of Betsy's nose from her hiding spot in the reeds.

Betsy had been running hard since about 2 PM for three different falcons. Almost all of it in swamps and reeds well over her head and tangled to the point that you or I would have had a hell of a time getting through it. I have a neoprene vest to help preserve some of her body heat, as her hair is only about a quarter of an inch long. The vest gives her some protection but she always comes back from one of these hunts with her sides bloody because the Grease wood cuts the end of her tail and that paints her sides red with blood. She is heedless of either Barbwire or Grease Wood in her quest for game. Its a bit funny since every time that we went swimming in the summer I had to force Betsy into the pool. She hated it, but she would finally get into the pool, but only long enough to satisfy me. Now with a hawk in the air, you can't keep her out of the water or the swamp. We finally got back to the vehicles at dark. When we got home Betsy was sore and limping on her right front shoulder. I gave her a doggy aspirin and a rub down. She was quite happy to curl up on her bed by the fire and sleep the rest of the night. Well most of the night, since she got me up at 2:30 AM to go pee. Its funny, but at home she will not go out into the yard to pee, ( its too cold ) but she has no problem sloshing through the swamps at 18 degrees if there is a duck there.

All in all a satisfying day, but a hard one. I was just too tired to write the blog last night. Betsy will get a rest and we will go Rabbit hunting after noon today. Whether we are successful or not, it will be the last until after the moult.