Katherine May

H is for one Happy Falconer

In response to my remorseless adoration of H is for Hawk, my own H treated me to a falconry experience at the Rare Breeds Centre near Ashford in Kent.

I will say very little about it except for (a) it was awesome, (b) I now want my own Harris hawk, and (c) look at my happy little face.

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This is Gatsby the American kestrel. I attended his weigh-in. It was just like being Helen McDonald, but with more glee and less angst.
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Pebbles the barn owl. He only wants me for my sliced-up chick remains.
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Neee-aooww
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I’m ashamed to say I’ve forgotten what type of bird this was, but look at his brilliant angry eyes.

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My favourite. Ronnie the Harris hawk. I took him for a walk in the woods, and he *nearly* caught me a rabbit. I love him.
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You can totally eat dead chick out of my hand any time, Ronnie.
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Bye bye. Till next time.


2 Replies to “H is for one Happy Falconer”

  1. Oooooo FUN. The bird whose name you forgot looks like the birds of prey that are all over the place in my bit of Illinois (not quite moved yet). As I was driving home a couple of days ago I saw about 10 of them circling a spot in the forest preserve. Dead deer? I’ll miss seeing them. I remember how excited I got when one landed in a tree in our first house here, because it was HUGE and I’d never seen anything like that in Europe. Despite their enormous wingspan, at this time of year it’s not that unusual to see a group of smaller birds driving one away from a nest.

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