All Jasper today.

I knew it was too good to last. We actually have a storm blowing in form the Southwest today. The temps jumped up to 54 degrees, and the wind was gusting to 24. I had intended to fly the Harris's but with this wind, the best thing was to feed them enough to hold them over to tomorrow.

I had two Starlings in my trap, so I wanted to get Jasper started on the kite. I got the quad out of the doors to the hanger, but didn't see the need to go that far away since the wind was blowing away from the hanger. The only thing that I didn't take into account is that the wind shadow from the hanger was going to make for some squirrely wind. I got the kite up in the air, and once it reached about 50 feet it turned over and slammed into the ground breaking the rod that makes up the spine. Time for plan B.

The wind was still screaming, and Jasper really had to hang on to the fist to keep from being blown away. He first took a perch on the free Chickens house, but the Starlings and Sparrows were all over to the captive pen. He soon zipped over there and the usual mayhem ensued. He was here, there, chasing this one, missing one in the rocks. Off again after another, then we were out of Sparrows and opportunities. Just as we were about ready to go to a bagged Starling, a batch of Sparrows flew back in and the chase was on again. Once again, he frittered away all the opportunities, and Tami, who was outside the pen started to go through the fence, flushed another Sparrow. This time he was determined to catch it. The last I saw of him as he disappeared around the loafing shed, was just about a foot in behind the Sparrow. He didn't come back, but a large group of Sparrows that had taken refuge in front of the house lifted off and came to the pens to hide.

We waited, but he didn't show up, so we started a search for him, sure that he had caught something. One of the big problems with him is that he is hard to see if he is more than 50 yards away or down on the ground. If he was the type to be secretive, she would have lost him long ago.

 I finally found him on the ground by the back of the house, almost under the eves. The flight had gone more than 100 yards. This is the first time that he has really pressed the pursuit. The hardest part of flying any kind of game is to convince the hawk that if they keep pressing they can generally force the quarry to try to take cover. He has been discovering the consequences of not catching anything, and he hates it. Tami says that he is restless all night when he misses.

 Well he won't be restless tonight.

 Tami offered her fist to him, but the wind was still howling and if he had turned around he would have ended up on his beak. He is looking, but held his ground.

 When she reached down to get him, he still didn't turn around, but sidestepped up on the fist.

We retired to the shop to get out of the wind so that he could eat.