Jester

[ChicM]

This diary won't be to everyone's taste I guess as a) I'm a novice so you'll get to see the mistakes I make warts and all and b) I like to write so the style may outweigh the substance more often than not!

But it's my diary so I can keep it however I want to. :D

Initially it's retrospective as we got Jester in September 2004, so the first few posts are just bringing it up to date.

Hopefully I will get some photos up here for those that are interested and keep the posts regular.

Chic, Jamie and Scott.

[ChicM]

“You can have whichever one you want” said Adrian “but if I were you I’d take that one there.”

That’s a good enough endorsement for me I thought. The little hawk was furious at our intrusion into his aviary and, not knowing what else to do, lay on his back striking out at Adrian as he quickly scooped him up. Then I held him in a towel as we jessed him up and hooded him.

“Wait till you feel this” said Adrian as he gently lifted him onto my fist. My left hand was gripped with enormous power as he held on, swaying and falling backward in his terror of the hood. Adrian slipped the hood off and he stood up straight, wings out, beak open, crest feathers erect, eyes filled with fear, hate and fury.

There was no elegant way of doing it as he was simply terrified, so we bundled him into the travel box as best we could and shook hands.

Jester was coming home.

[ChicM]

I’d already gotten his mews sorted and tethered him to his bow perch in the adjacent pen, from which he immediately bated of course. I left him to settle down, smiling like a Cheshire cat. The kids would be here tonight and they’d want to see him.

When they arrived, we quickly went in and I made speed to get the little Harris onto my fist before he damaged himself with all his bating away from us. “Wow….” was all Jamie could say.

We started to man him seriously pretty much right away and offered food: pieces of chick, mice, beef…all ignored. In fact, it was a full five days before that magical moment arrived when he slowly, oh so slowly, began to lower his head and with all the natural wariness of a wild creature, he finally gently pulled at the morsel on my glove. “We’ve done it Dad!” whispered Scott.

[ChicM]

I’d been going in with a pick-up piece every day and he was still pretty much bating away more often than not but gradually he was settling. Just at the crucial time in his training, though, I had a fishing trip planned. There was nothing else for it; he’d have to come with me. I boxed him for the three hour drive and he took it well enough. When we got there, I set up his bow perch in the garage attached to my cottage and left him to settle down.

The next day I went in and picked him up. I tied his leash to my glove and then put him back on his bow. Here goes….I put a chick leg onto my fist. He looked at it quizzically. I brought it nearer and immediately he hopped onto my fist and ate it! This stuff does work then…

Once he was coming like that I moved him smartly onto a short creance – only 3 metres – and took him outside. First time I set him onto a fence rail and stepped back he came, Boom! This was going well. I had to wait until I got him home though to try out a longer creance and it was only a matter of days before he’d come up to150ft on his line first call to either me or one of the kids fist for a morsel. At that distance, it was now or never. I unclipped the line – after swearing to myself that I would try him at least a few more days on the creance – and set him on his bow. I walked away from him and at about 20ft reached in my bag. “He’s coming!” shouted the kids and I only barely had time to turn and get my fist up before he was on it.

We did it. What a moment. He was free but came back.

[ChicM]

A couple of days later I was still working with him between the creance initially and then free flight. On this day he was higher in weight (I weigh in grams so he was at 640 gms as opposed to the 620 he’d started flying at). There was a terrific wind that day and sheeting, horizontal rain. The only calmer area was in the lee of some trees and hedges on the farm. I set him up and called him off a few times and then tried again for the last time of the day. As he came in, a gust of wind took him and he was blown off course onto the hedges. I called him again but this time he overshot the fist and went onto the bottom rung of a telephone pole. I stood below him and called and called. Nothing. In desperation, I went for the ladder. That was too much for him altogether and he took off, settling high in the branches of the sycamore tree. It was 4.00pm and the weather was worsening.

I stood there in the teeth of the worst autumn gale we’d had in years: soaked and starving, watching him to make sure he would stay put. Occasionally he’d move a branch or two but never taking flight. I had my mobile phone and called Adrian who, having seen and done this many times before, reassured me that all I had to do was wait there until he decided to come down and if that didn’t happen then to wait till dark and then get back out before first light.

At 2.00pm the following day, after a very restless night and being almost hoarse with calling and dry from whistling, I saw him move with some more purpose. He was staring and bobbing his head at a clump of ivy in the tree. Next thing a pigeon broke from it and he tore off in hot pursuit. The wind immediately caught him and blew him 300 yards from the tree into the adjacent field. This was my chance! I ran as fast as I could across the field but as I drew near he opened his wings and the wind pushed him back another 50 yards. This time, I got as close as I dared and then went down SAS style onto my hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way brandishing a chick. He was hungry, I could tell. But he was even more wary and frightened and there were a few missed chances before I managed to grab hold of his hunting strap.

Through gritted teeth I told him “Welcome back…”

Lesson learned I dropped his weight again and he became responsive and trustworthy until, that is, he met his first dog and went on his first hunt…

[ChicM]

As September rolled into October, Adrian was at me to get Jester entered as soon as possible “And make it on rabbits” he emphasised. “Once a male will take rabbit he’ll take anything” he would repeat.

He was also kind enough to invite me and the boys (with Jester) to tag along on any of his hunting days. The only trouble was Jester wasn’t too keen. First he was unsettled by all the additional people, then the other Harris hawks Adrian flew, although his siblings, were much more experienced and therefore faster onto any game. And finally there was the dog. Jester just would not go anywhere near the dog. He’d follow on, after a fashion, but would be last of the pack and as far back as possible, necessitating me continually having to go back and bring him on or bring him down and hood him so that we could catch up. Adrian was great about the additional work and inconvenience, but I got some black looks from the paying guests from time to time. When game did bolt, Jester would chase it along with the pack but resolutely refused to finish the job, even when all he had to do was reach out and grab it.

After a few such forays, we got a perfect opportunity; a rabbit put into a hole just in front of us. Adrian took the dog to one side whilst Dave (Adrian’s helpful and smart assistant – even though the kids call him Dangerous Dave!) dropped a ferret in the hole and positioned us in the prime spot. A rabbit head peeked out and ducked back in again. Dave and I exchanged glances. It bolted! Jester was on Scott’s fist and, to a father’s immense pride, Scotty loosed him perfectly. He flew like a dart and was followed by both Stifler and Finch, Adrian’s current hunting pack. “He’s got it!” Scott shouted. And so he had – he had the bunny by the head and he was sitting there with that pleased yet puzzled look young hawks seem to acquire on a kill.

Well, we weren’t 100% sure that he’d nailed it first but since a) he chased it b) be grabbed it and c) he’d got it by the head we awarded him the honours and gave him his first feed on fresh, warm rabbit. Adrian tried to introduce the dog whilst he was feeding but it caused him to come off the kill so many times that I made the executive decision to get the dog away and let him feed as that seemed to me to be more important. That decision may come home to roost in the future.

[ChicM]

Flushed with success, we decided that we’d try him on a pheasant so I went with Dangerous Dave to a particularly pheasant rich piece of land (no names – no pack drills). The problem became immediately obvious: there were just too many pheasants! Jester would not, could not it seemed, focus on any single bird and flew round in circles after runners on the deck or sat in trees bemused at so many birds moving. After a few committed chases around, we were walking back to the car and he was following on from the trees. “There he goes again” I said to Dave, having by this time noticed the difference between a flight of commitment and a flight of repositioning. We could both see a nice hen pheasant running ahead of him. Suddenly he pitched over and crash! went tearing through a wild rose bush. We both heard the squeal and were amazed to discover that he’d caught a cock blackbird. The thicket was simply too dense to get near him and the poor songbird was dead anyway so we just had to let him eat it, as he stoically ignored every waived chick that I had.

When he’d finished he started to pick his way through the bush towards me. And that was when disaster struck: one of Adrian’s dogs, a young pointer pup, came lolloping up to see what we were doing. Jester started to panic and, caught on the inside of a fence between the thorn bushes and the wire, began to run along it. The curious pup bounded after him increasing his terror. Eventually he found a gap and made it through the fence. But it wasn’t over. He began flying at ground level and the pup, obviously seeing the possibilities of its new game widening, tore after him barking madly. I could see a potential disaster but Jester began to gain height and finally made it to a tree. Now what. He was full of blackbird, just had the bejeezus frightened out of him and the dogs were still milling about as two others had come to join in the fun. And he was in a tree. Not another 22 hour sitting I thought. Dave managed to round up the dogs and get them away, however, and within five minutes Jester dropped like a stone from the treetop onto my fist for a whole chick. Phew.

Two bad lessons in one day: dogs are dangerous to be around and songbirds are good to eat. Some you win I guess…

[ChicM]

I’ve been lucky in a lot of ways in life but mostly I’ve been lucky to have good friends. Friends like Adrian who’s generosity has helped me to learn and develop as a falconer and friends like Gerard who lets me treat his estate as if it were my own land. Mind you, his keeper Steve very often has other ideas and I have to walk a fine line in politics between them with Gerard saying “Go where you like” and Steve rolling his eyes and thinking “How can I keep pheasants where he wants them for the shoot with hawks chasing them all the time!” A compromise was reached by teasing out of Steve the fact that there was a rabbit rich piece of land away on the very edge of the estate that was rarely, if ever, shot by anyone other than Gerard.

This ground comprises about eight good sized fields that have been managed specifically for game. There are a few copses and woods interspersed with open fields (tightly grazed by rabbits around their edges) and game crop strips linking all of the major cover areas. There is a very deep gully which is wooded all the way up to the top and its crown of beech trees gives a fabulous vantage point on the low-lying, rabbit rich pasture below. A boisterous burn runs through it and marks the southern boundary. All that’s missing are some Hobbits…

[ChicM]

On our first day out in mid November, Scott flushed a rabbit in perfect position and Jester tore after it from my fist. He was dead above it but would not put in and eventually the rabbit dropped into a hole. Weight. It must be his weight. He was now flying at 645 gms and had been entered at 620. Time to cut back a little it seemed.

On the 23rd November things started to change. I had him down as low as 615gms and he was mega keen. We arrived at the estate and I put him into the trees at the edge of the game crop. I started to walk through it to drive the game forward. He waited, as usual, until I had gone about 20 yards and then flew past me to his first vantage point. It’s amazing how quickly they pick up the topography of a new terrain and learn where they best perches are. He settled with a flourish of his tail and then started bobbing his head. Suddenly he launched upwards and started to climb above me and to my right. With a sudden snap to the left he fell out of the sky, hitting the ground with an audible thump. I heard the squeal and ran over to find him bound tight to a rabbit. I dispatched it and then watched, grinning, as he tried to figure out what to do with it. He clearly knew it was food but wasn’t sure how it all worked. I helped with the knife and soon he was tearing in to it with relish. While he did this, I sensibly phoned everyone who I thought would be interested (and several who clearly weren’t) to tell them how clever my boy had been. I stopped him feeding when he was about to burst. Back at the mews, I weighed in a very contented Harris at 785 gms.

[ChicM]

Three days later I weighed him at 640 gms and decided to take him out again. It was a still, dry, warm day and we set off through the game crop as usual. Right at the end of the crop a hen pheasant got up and he gave chase. The flight went right out over the valley and he went a very long way leaving me nervous and vulnerable without telemetry. But after a couple of calls he popped back up and came back to me easily.

I decided to walk down the edge of the gulley ridge and, as I got to the bottom, a rabbit got up about 100 yards away and started running away from us across the open field. He saw it too and I slipped him from my glove. He really put on the power and just as he reached it, the rabbit ducked under a fence. I thought it had got away but he hovered and circled the spot once then dived in hard. I heard the squeal and with “Bloody hell he’s got it!” I tore off across the field. He had this one by the back end and it was giving him a fight but I managed to grab it and despatch it. He knew exactly what to do now and started pulling at it, managing to open it by himself this time.

I was in a quandary this time as my kids were coming hunting the next day and he just couldn’t be fat. I watched his crop fill and when I judged he had had a “normal” ration I covered the kill with the bag and watched, astonished as usual, as the bird obediently gave up a huge meal for the head of a day old chick.

Once I had the bunny safely in the bag, I picked him up, hooded him and tethered him to the wooden gate whilst I paunched and dressed the rabbit. I cut him a little tit-bit and let him feed on it on the way back to the car. Rabbit was on the menu for us all that night.

[ChicM]

The next day we headed off to hunt together. The weather was not great – very windy and heavy rain was coming in. I reckoned we’d be lucky if we had half an hour’s viable hunting weather before he’d be too soaked to fly. We spread out through the game crop and walked it up anyway.

He took up position in the trees at the end and waited for us to work towards him. Right at the edge, he came in with a real purpose and smacked the ground about a yard from Jamie’s feet. There was a flurry of feathers and a hen pheasant tore free. “Did you see that?” Shouted Jamie “It was right there and I never even noticed it but he did!”

Jester was now in hot pursuit of the pheasant and both of them dropped over the edge of the gully top. We ran after and stood at the edge scanning the area for him and listening for bells. “Hear that?” I said. I was sure I heard a squeal and some bells but look as much as we could we saw nothing. Then I heard some muffled bells again below us in cover so we set off down into the valley.

We quartered the area for about ten minutes whistling and calling but apart from the very occasional jingle of a bell we never saw a thing. Then Jamie said “Look dad – there he is!” We’d walked past the spot a number of times and missed him completely. He was deep in dead bracken and locked on to the head of the hen pheasant. To take it he must have stooped about 100ft from the gulley top and how I wish we’d seen that kill. By the time we found them she was dead and Jester, as usual, was looking puzzled as to what to do next. I dragged them both out (which I knew isn’t the best practise but the situation he was in precluded anything else) and used my knife to open up the pheasant for him. Now he got the idea. Just at that point, the heavens opened. Luck was with us this time.

We called Adrian to let him know of our success and headed over there to let him see his protégé. I calculated that he ate almost a third of his body weight at that sitting and he was so fat that he could hardly get to his top perch in his loft.

[ChicM]

The next few trips were pretty uneventful as the rabbits seemed to be hiding in their holes and the pheasants mysteriously had vanished also. Gerard reckons that a pair of foxes were also working the ground so he was going to “sort them out”. Jester was also developing an unhealthy interest in songbirds so, on the advice of other forum members, we took him out crow hunting from the car and had a great day but, sadly, no success on the black stuff. The only real shot he had was when a bunny bolted right under my feet and he dropped about 100ft from the tree above to grab it by the leg when it was already in its hole! I got there as quick as I could but as soon as I put my hand down he let the rabbit go. Bummer…

With frequent bouts of weather unsuited to flying, early nights and rapidly approaching holidays it was important that we get him back on real game again. On the 19th of December we took him up to Gerard’s estate for a serious attempt. This time we went to the house to pay our respects to Gerard first. We had some coffee and chit chatted about the respective fortunes of our businesses in 2004; it hadn’t been the best of years for either of us. Time was running short so Gerard told us just to go anywhere – there were loads of pheasants about and we could take whatever we could catch.

There was a bitterly cold wind blowing and the snow and ice made it a freezing walk. The kids were cold and becoming more unenthusiastic. Jester had chased a few pheasants and just missed a partridge when Scott announced that he’d had enough and wanted to go home. I could see his point – it was Baltic conditions.

“One more walk along this fence.” I pleaded and they agreed but said they’d wait for me. I put Jester in a tree and walked slowly along the fenceline with him following on. There were a few pheasants running ahead and I knew that where the fence crossed they’d bunch up. He came down like a smart-bomb and nailed a hen pheasant right against the fence. I sprinted round and got to them just as he was about to get kicked off, so strongly did she fight him. I despatched her and called the boys over.

I let him feed until he was fit to burst and then gave him the carcass over the next day or two. That took him out of hunting weight right through until the 27th when we visited Speyside. Sadly no bunnies put in an appearance over our three day trip and he finished 2004 in his pen and not in the field due to more bad weather.

Roll on 2005…

[ChicM]

Scott’s thoughts about Jester.

Jester is so cool, he has killed 3 rabbits and 2 pheasants. Jester is smarter than me and my brother put together. I ate some of the rabbit that Jester killed but it was good.
Jester is a cool wee hawk who has a preening problem. Which basically means he needs a BATH!!!!

[Sean]

Very nice read there :D

[Kevin Massey]

the ups and downs of falconry ay !!.

my male hates dogs too bud
kev

[ChicM]

Thanks guys appreciate the comments. This is what happens when you're bored and have cabin fever...Can't wait for the longer evenings so I can get outside again!

[Kevin Massey]

get him on the lamp :P

kev

[ChicM]

Now how did I KNOW you would suggest that Kev! :D

[Kevin Massey]

lol.

i dunno
kev

but i have tried it a couple of times now u know :lol:

[Varmint]

:arrow:

[Shaun Byrne]

Cracking read that mate. Watch out Varmint, a bit of Literate competition I think lol!!

[Varmint]

:arrow:

[ChicM]

You know, there are days when just nothing seems to go right.

I’d been very kindly invited by Adrian on a day’s hawking with some pals of his, Karl and Andy. Although Jester won’t work with dogs as yet, he said to bring him along anyway and we’d try to get a ferret flush later when the dog was put away.

I arrived at the appointed time and Adrian went to get the other birds organised…only to find that his young apprentice, James, had fed the lot of them because he thought that Adrian was having a day off! Not a great start then.

Since Jester was the only hawk on weight, looks like he was also the only show in town so we set off.

When we got to the ground I clipped on his transmitter and did my usual double check that I’d connected it securely. Spencer, Adrian’s young pointer, bounded over and Jester predictably rose up, wings out, threatening. I decided to hood him just to calm him down and we headed out.

It was a beautiful white wilderness with the recent snow and the sun was shining although there was a very keen north easterly blowing. Snow flurries were pushing through all day and we were lucky enough to miss a couple of big falls that we could see to the South. Spencer worked well and flushed a few pheasants but with Jester hooded there wasn’t much point in doing anything. We soon found a rabbit hole that Spencer indicated had a tenant and Adrian took the dog away whilst Karl dropped the ferret down the hole. Within thirty seconds a rabbit popped out of the hole and froze, looking at us nervously. Your move Bugs…it bolted. Jester was off the fist like a rocket and chased it down the hill. He was dead above it but for some reason he would not grab it. Then it jinked right and he threw straight up in the air about 50ft and tore after it again with twice the commitment of before. The bunny had a good start and this time he was running uphill, heading for another hole. Jester gained on him steadily but, with only a few feet in it, the rabbit made it to the hole. That warmed us up a bit.

Well, we walked the ground for miles with only the odd pheasant for relief and no suitable flights. At the end of the session we tried Jester following on without the dog and he flew a hen pheasant well but missed it. Time to go.

On the way back to the car, I noticed with dismay that his transmitter was missing. It must have dropped off just at the end as I assured everyone as I’d seen it when he was chasing the pheasant.

Out came the telemetry and we got a very strong signal from the area where we’d finished. When we got there, however, the signal seemed to be stronger elsewhere and it wasn’t long before we realised that the strongest signal was coming from the point furthest away that we had been today. A long walk ensued, and I have to pay tribute to the other guys for remaining positive and cheerful despite the fact that it was this plonker who must have made a mistake putting the tranny on in the first place!

Eventually we reached the further point that we’d been, but the telemetry was still reading strongest and pointing away to the North. It began to dawn on us…we’d passed some other folk hawking when we were on the way in. We were reading their bird’s signal and we’d spent 40 minutes yomping thru the snow to get there.

Adrian fiddled with the telemetry and soon got another strong signal on an adjacent frequency coming from…you’ve guessed it…the very spot where we’d been initially. Back we went and after a bit more fiddling with the attenuation and slowly scanning the ground, we found it – about 50yards from where I’d first noticed he’d lost it.

So lessons for me: check the tranny is on properly, then check it again, then check again; check the frequency of the tranny is keyed in to the telemetry; stick to my guns when I know that I saw the tranny on up until the last minute!

One good thing tho, Jester gradually settled down with the dog over the day to the point where I could unhood him and all he’d do was watch the dog and not bate or threaten. He still wouldn’t hunt with it as he won’t stop looking at it long enough to see any game, but it gives me hope that he’ll come around and eventually accept them.

Roll on tomorrow…

[ChicM]

The wind was really against us and we were trying to get ahead of the westerly blown rain that was rolling in. That made today’s trip more of an SAS style forced march around the hunting ground than a serious attempt at trying to catch anything. At least it was mild. Jester was a bit lacklustre in the wind which was unusual as he usually loves the windy days and flies really strongly. Today, however, it just seemed to get the better of him and he could not seem to master it at all.

The good news is that the pheasants are back on the ground after mysteriously vanishing for a few weeks. Maybe Gerard did “sort out” the foxes after all. The first to flush were two old cock birds and they belted off into the wind leaving Jester no chance. I pushed him ahead of me and started working the ground so that any runners would move away from me downwind and towards him. It worked: he came out of the trees gaining height and then keeled over into a stoop. Just as he got to the hen pheasant though, she did that annoying little jink that they do and he crashed into the cover left only with a talon full of bracken and watching furiously as the tail of the pheasant disappeared over the ridge. Two down.

With the wind so high I decided to bring him to the fist as we went over the gulley top, just in case. A cock pheasant got up about ten feet away from us and since he was headed downwind I gave jester the slip and he powered after it. But the same wind that was helping him was helping the pheasant even more and it easily outdistanced him. We had a poke around in all the usual bunny places but none were out to play and so we went back up onto the ridge. I had him back on the fist again and I spotted a hen pheasant holding in cover. I edged round it so that Jester would have a downwind slip. The pheasant watched me fixedly but was frozen to the spot. I chucked some twigs in its direction to see if I could get it to move and also to focus Jester’s attention on the spot. Didn’t work in either case. Nothing else for it, I’d have to make in and see what happened. My left boot was almost on the pheasant’s backside (will this count as a baggie then? :D) when she flushed and I swear that Jester almost jumped with fright as he set off too far to the left of her giving her time to turn upwind and therefore gain the advantage. Oh well…I’ll learn I suppose and so will he. If I'd thought it thru better and thrown a chick leg instead of the twigs I'd maybe have had a result!

On the way back to the car he managed to fly a bunny but I think it was on its doorstep as I found him on the ground staring into the hole in a frustrated rage. With the westerlies catching up with us we were both getting drenched so I called it a day.

I can only think that his near ten days of inactivity have set back his fitness as he was definitely off the pace today in terms of flying ability. More lure work and more frequent flying needed I think.

[Varmint]

:arrow:

[ChicM]

Gales and storm force winds…possibility of structural damage and trees blown over…traffic disruption over high roads and bridges. But then, what do the BBC weathermen know. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad up at the hunting ground and it is my last day off…

I was right. It wasn’t as bad up at the hunting ground. It was worse. A number of trees were in fact down on the way up there and there were some guys working on one with chainsaws just at the entrance to the estate. As soon as I let Jester off he went careering away downwind and then he made a wide sweeping turn across the field to struggle all the way back to me. This was going to be difficult but we were here now so what they hey.

I should have stayed home tho – not a pheasant nor a bunny did we see and by the end of it, the wee hawk was totally browned off and wasn’t keen to fly all the way back to me if he’d been blown off course, meaning that I had to go get him.

Some you win. Home and a pheasant leg for him as he won’t be flying again till the weekend.

[Varmint]

:arrow:

[ChicM]

Will these storms ever end? On Thursday night the roofing felt was partially ripped off the mews and the 90mph winds last night finished the job. The road to the farm was flooded both ways but I managed to get through to go to B&Q, even though the water was over the bonnet of the Range Rover. When I got there...I'd left my wallet and had to go back!

Well, I got the stuff and I braved it to repair the roof in between snow showers. It was possibly not the brightest thing I've done but the mews was getting flooded so I had to do something. Seems to be holding.

Just flown the wee fella for some exercise as he was bang on weight. It was a bit nerve wracking what with the very high wind but I kept him near the trees round the farm so he had somewhere to grab onto.

He appeared to enjoy it immensely tho and came into the wind on very long calls first time every time, twisting and turning, sometimes going high, sometimes hugging the ground. Very exciting to watch as once he was blown round behind all the farm buildings and when I whistled him he appeared about 100ft up coming determinedly over the trees towards me. As he came in he folded his wings and touched down on the glove like a butterfly.

Fantastic.

[ChicM]

Even wilder weather today...more rain and gales. The river is only 100yds from my back door now and I'm starting to get worried that we'll be flooded. Both roads still blocked so getting cabin fever...although the Range Rover can get through at a push. Helluva 4x4

I let him out for a wee fly about to give him some exercise but after he was blown well across the field and struggled to make it back I decided that it was too risky. His fitness will suffer again this week because with the dark nights I just can't exercise him enough.

[Bubo]

this is a great read and i feel i'm in the action too hehehehe. There is nothing greater than reading the member's personal experiences!! great stuff.
bubo

[ChicM]

Thanks very much - I'll try to get some pics up soon too.

[ChicM]

Well – this is the first day we were able to get out and what a change in the weather. The 100mph+ winds on Tuesday and most of Wednesday ripped the roofing felt off the mews (again) so I took this morning off to do some repair work. And what a beautiful day it was…flat calm, sunny, even mild! The great Scottish winter…

Jester was bang on weight today but I waited until I’d picked up the kids from school so they could see him exercise. I really like the way this little Harris flies. He has real purpose and when he sets off he’s totally focused on where he wants to go. He is very fast too and flies a bit gos-like, though without the power and raw acceleration of course.

We worked him just around the farm in the sunset and he had his usual blackbird hunt, but thankfully they’re all wise to him now and vanish almost as soon as they see me head for the mews.

He has become used to following the kids because they have been the main lure draggers and so we hit on the game of getting the boys to race him to the trees and back – a distance of about 200 yards. I held him on my fist whilst Scott set off as fast as he could. About half-way, I let Jester go and he set off after him. I watched as he put up into the tree ahead of Scott then waited until Scott turned to head back and called Jester off to a chick leg. Needless to say the competition was decidedly one-sided and a scarlet faced nine-year old gasped “Dad! He’s FAST!!!” when he made it back.

Jamie also fancied his chances but despite giving him an even bigger start Jester made it there and back to the fist with plenty time to spare. I swear he was smirking when Jamie puffed his way in.

[Shaun Byrne]

Good read as ever CM, stuff the high jumps I'm going to get a couple of hyper active kids to use as lures!!lol!!

[ChicM]

You've made a good start already mate! How's the little 'un doing? A bit young for dragging the lures yet but I bet she's growing fast!

[Shaun Byrne]

Growing, crying, screaming, spewing, sh..ing!! Apart from that she's an angel. lol!

[ChicM]

Yeah - I remember that bit really well! Hard work and best remembered rather than experienced. I was about your age when my first arrived...then I realised why people used to have them young! You need energy! Enjoy buddy.

[ChicM]

We were up at 6.30 am this morning as Jamie had a rugby match. Seemed the thing to do was to drop him off at the school and then Scotty and I would head on further up to the estate in order to be there at first light and catch any tardy bunnies out. It was flat calm when we left and still calm when we dropped our Number 8 off at the school. However, just five miles up the road I started to notice the trees were swaying a little and by the time we reached the hunting grounds there was a distinct breeze blowing.

As I stepped out of the car, whatever weather system we had found also stepped up a gear and the wind hit gale force. What do you need to do to get a break from this? I stuck his telemetry on and we set off with him on the fist as the wind was just too strong to let him follow on: he’s not at full fitness right now and he’d be knackered in no time in this blow. When we got to the tree-line I put him in a tree and right away we flushed a bunny almost underneath him. He tore out of the tree but the wind pushed him back and he could make no head-way at all against it. Hopeless.

We did a circuit anyway to see if anything else was around and worked it so that we’d be able to give him downwind slips – mind you he’d have a job hitting the brakes anyway. But nothing was out – more sensible than we were clearly. On the way back up the hill bent over into the teeth of the gale and hanging on to a hawk that was hovering kite-like by his jess above my fist, I felt something bounce off my boot. I looked down to see the transmitter had fallen off his tail. This is the second time that has happened and I know that on both occasions I have fixed it properly. He’d been bating quite a bit on the fist so maybe that dislodged it but I thought these tail clips weren’t supposed to work free. At least I seen it at the time and we didn’t have to go on a tranny hunt (again).

Back to the farm then for some exercise and, would you believe it, within five miles along the road the wind had dropped down to nothing again! We gave him a half hour or so flying around the farm and practised getting him to catch bits thrown up for him. Good fun, but not the same as a hunt.

[Shaun Byrne]

What type of tail mount are you using Chick.

[ChicM]

Dunno to be honest. It was Varmint that fitted it (but he still blamed me for the tranny falling off last time!) and it's a small copper sleeve that is on it. The tranny clips on no problem and I can see it clearly that it has hooked on. But that's twice if's fell off in the field so...

[Hawkmaster]

I never use those any more. Rather go the plectrum and leather route with glue and small cable ties.

Sorry do not want to mess up this thread, so we should continue elsewhere.

[Shaun Byrne]

HM, how do you mount a tranny on a plectrum? Sorry Chick, for going off thread. Try easing your clip out a bit, to give it a bit stronger spring.

[ChicM]

No prob about the thread direction - just as happy to get info here as elsewhere. I know it is fitted thru a plectrum mount 'cos I watched Varmint do it. It seems to come thru the plectrum somehow. I had a cable tie arrangement before this but I was completely useless at fitting it on my own. Just how do you DO that? I was in contortions and once put it on the wrong side so that the tie didn't bite and the tranny fell off. Add to that the fact that I'd put the batteries in upside down and we couldn't track it...I gotta say guys that our Varmint is one VERY patient falconer with plonkers like me.

Anyway - I'll try spreading the clip out and see if that helps.

[Adam Barrett]

i use one of the sollid drilled plastic tailmounts from mj hoods iv never had a problem with the tranny coming of even after my harris dived through some thick brambles after a rabbit.

they are a little expensive at around a tenner but they do the job well :wink:

[Hawkmaster]

I like most people have tried all sorts of things that do not work and so we learn. My best way and the one I have done for at least half a dozen people this season and on two of my own birds without failure, is a modified one of the one you can find on this thread:

http://www.falconryforum.co.uk/viewtopic.php?t=335&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start =45

What I do now is fold those two leather end back over to the plecrum and glue and then cable tie again.

[ChicM]

Thanks guys...maybe Varmint will stop moaning at me now!

Unlikely...apprentcie at 46...what a life! :D

[Shaun Byrne]

Like I said HM, thats a good way of fixing a tail bell but the problem is the telemetry tranny.

[Shaun Byrne]

The best ones I've used for a bit are the ones from Falconry Electronics, very light and come in sizes from merlin to FHH. They're only £3 so cheap as well.

http://www.falconryelectronics.co.uk/page8.html

[ChicM]

Torrential rain and gales yet again. All we managed today was a quick slip at a pigeon that was mooching around our bird table. He almost got it too, powering to within a yard of its tail before it jinked away and he overshot the mark. Just at that point the heavens opened and we all got soaked. We worked him up and down the farm track from telephone pole to telephone pole anyway; with his feathers getting progressively wetter and more bedraggled he had to work harder and harder which will do his fitness no harm. When we got back to the house the pigeons were back and he had another quick flight but this time he had no chance as he was drenched. Another weekend slips away without any real chance of a kill.

He's sitting in his mews now, fed up and looking like a drowned rat. This bird simply will not preen himself and just drips dry. His feathers are getting very badly frayed too and this can only slow him down. Hopefully when he moults he will start to preen and take care of his feathers better.

[ChicM]

More weather…this time snow! Blizzard conditions overnight wiped out the chances of any hunting today as it was still snowing hard in the morning and the wind started blowing its usual gale by lunchtime. Once again we had to settle for a bit of exercise in between showers. But it is paying off: for a while there his fitness had dropped away and he was reluctant to fly in the wind but today he positively relished the strong westerly and chose to fly repeatedly past easy perches to the trees at the far side of the farm before being called back to the fist into the teeth of the wind. Great to watch him twist and turn with the strong gusts and control his flight.

His feather condition was much improved today after the soaking I gave him on Saturday and the rain soak he got on Sunday. Still raggedy around the tail but he looked better for sure.

The forecast says Friday may be my best shot this week so…fingers crossed.

[ChicM]

At last! The sun is shining and there is no rain and hardly any wind. I stuck him in his box and headed off to the estate to see what we could find.

We arrived on the hilltop and true to form the wind started to get up. The earlier calm had been due to the fact that the wind was shifting from west to north and within thirty minutes it had cranked itself up to a stiff enough breeze to give him flight problems. It didn’t really matter as there was no game around whatsoever. We trekked all round the patch but never saw so much as a mouse. What to do?

Well, I decided to take a run down to the main part of the estate. Gerard, the owner, says that I can hunt it anytime and go anywhere I like but Steve, his gamekeeper, is not quite so enthusiastic so I headed for the house first to check in with him. He wasn’t around though and with the wind getting up even more I was swithering as to whether I should carry on or not. But hey – I’d come this far and Jester was on weight so…

We headed out along the growing woodland that Gerard has planted as it always holds pheasant, rabbit, hares and partridge. As we passed one of the larger (now empty) pheasant pens, I saw that no fewer than 4 roe deer were trapped inside. As I approached they became frantic and were bounding along and crashing into the wire in their panic. I let Jester loose and he had a purposeful flight over them to see what all the fuss was about. Thankfully, he thought better of pressing an attack!

Within minutes he was off at full tilt and slammed into the base of a tree. I heard the chukka of a partridge as it broke cover. First stoop failed then. This area is so rich in game though that I knew it was only a matter of time before we would find another and he put in two more spirited dives on partridge and pheasant before I managed to flush a large cock bird underneath him. The pheasant broke cover and he chased it, which I wasn’t entirely comfortable with as he can’t catch them in the air and can go a long way, but the loaned telemetry gave me confidence to let him have the slip without calling him back.

I am so glad that I did. The pheasant put in not 50 yards away from where it flushed, deep into a gorse bush. It couldn’t have realised that Jester was only 10ft behind and above him as SLAM! he hit the pheasant on the deck.

I sprinted over, jumping a stream to get to them, and found him bound to the back end of a very puzzled looking pheasant. I quickly grabbed the pheasant by the neck but now I had a problem as Jester had the back end, the pheasant was half way through a hole in the branches and I had the head. All I could think of was to try to drag both of them out of the cover and place them down on the stream bank, after despatching the pheasant, for a photo with my phone camera; a decision I came to regret.

His first cock pheasant and taken in fine style too. Superb, committed flight with total aggression at the end.

It always amuses me to see him on a kill. He seems not to know what to do with them at first and hardly even plucks at them until either I open the carcass with a knife or begin plucking at the feathers for him. I decided to take the head and neck off the carcass and let him feed up on it on the fist. It was then that consequences of my inexperience became evident. He’d broken a tail feather at the tip and badly bent another half way up the shaft. I can’t say for sure that he didn’t break it when he slammed through the gorse after the pheasant, but I have a nagging suspicion that it was my inept retrieval of the kill that did it. I guess in all the excitement I just dis-engaged my brain and made the wrong call. Looking back, there were probably a dozen alternatives to what I did that would have been kinder on feathers and maybe better for long term trust and co-operation between us. That’s the trouble with experiential learning: you have to experience the mistakes first before you know what to do next time.

It was a price to pay I guess but I am still so proud of this little hawk. That pheasant was between 3 and 4 lbs and he was flying today at 1lb 6oz so I think he’s entitled to a few battle scars!

[ChicM]

And proud of it! Sorry about the quality - camera phone!

[Varmint]

:arrow:

[Shaun Byrne]

Nice one Chick, sounds like he got away quite lightly considering the size difference. I'm off to see if I can do a bit of the same now!

[Varmint]

:arrow:

[Shaun Byrne]

Spot on mate, 4 Rabbits and 2 Moorhens. Took some pics this morning so I'll try and get them posted today.
Sorry to hyjack the thread CM.

[ChicM]

Adrian called me first thing to say that he’d read the diary from yesterday and that he’d fix Jester’s tail for me. Great! I headed up there and let the expert work on the broken tail feathers. It took less than fifteen minutes to imp both of them and the joins were invisible. He praised Jester for getting the big pheasant and then ragged me about all of my mistakes, which is as it should be.

“Right” he said when he was finished “Go and kill something with him and this time let him stuff himself”.

At 1lb 7 and a bit he was well over what I’d flown him at before but it was a beautiful day so I decided to go ahead anyway. We worked the same area where he’d nailed the pheasant yesterday and it was simply moving with partridge today. They’re slippery little so and sos tho and despite several very committed dives on them he just could not get a grip of any. The other problem was his weight: he wasn’t anything like as responsive to me today and persistently drifted off to self-hunt. But it was good to watch him catch the breeze and hover like an overgrown kestrel before smashing into the undergrowth with partridges exploding all around him.

We worked our way round to the main woodland area which is always heaving with pheasants. Sure enough, he dived for one in cover and it broke back towards me, landing not 20 feet away. I froze as Jester landed in the tree directly above it. He manoeuvred himself round the tree until he was directly above the pheasant and then launched his attack…but for some odd reason he landed on the ground about 2ft away from it. A comical running chase ensued all around the tree with the pheasant inevitably winning.

He had a few more fruitless flights and then found some carrion which I had to get him off whereupon he went into a tree and sulked. As I walked on, I noticed a wood pigeon in the tree ahead of me. It was watching me intently but wasn’t taking flight and was only a dozen feet from the ground. I whistled him. Nothing. How to get him in position? I took a whole chick out the bag and waved it in my right hand so he could see it. He bobbed his head a few times and eventually started coming for it. When he was 6 ft away I dropped my hand and his attention immediately switched right and he saw the pigeon. On went the power and he smashed through the branches of the pine tree. The pigeon took flight but it was clear now that it was injured as it couldn’t get any speed up and he overhauled it in the air and dropped to the deck clutching his prize. I got there in seconds and despatched it. He didn’t need encouragement today as he was eating it before I’d finished it off!

Mindful of Adrian’s admonishment for being so miserly with the pheasant yesterday, I let him eat as much as he wanted and allowed him more on the fist as we walked back. I had the head ready to give him in his box and I managed to get the carcass off him without any fuss. Just as I had gotten all his gear off and was about to put him in his box I noticed that I’d left the tranny on. I fumbled around behind him and managed to almost get it when he bated and he was off! He was now full of pigeon and carrying a head and neck. I quickly grabbed the remains of the main carcass and went after him. Thankfully, he landed on a nearby fencepost and I managed to get him back without any fuss. But he had to go in the box with the carcass this time and was a bit raggedy when I got him home.

Lessons lessons lessons…bring it on Adrian. We were all green once!

[Shaun Byrne]

Sounds like a good day mate. Dont want to dampen it but did you check the pigeon for frounce and when you say it was injured, it wasn't full of shot was it?

[Varmint]

:arrow:

[ChicM]

Checked it for shot and it had a small pin hole in one wing which explained the lack of power but there was no pellet I am sure. Must have gone straight thru. I don't know what frounce is!

I'm trying guys - I'll get it eventually... :oops:

[Varmint]

:arrow:

[Miguel Gomez]

I've read the flippin' book and it says: "Domestic pigeons may carry frounce ( a form of avian syphilis) which may appear in the mouth as a grey or yellow substance."

That's it! There is no more. No warnings of what could happen to your hawk.

First of all it was a wood pigeon and second of all it ate it - it didn't copulate with it!

Anyway I saw right down its gullet when I wrung its neck - it looked perfectly healthy in there. Here's hoping there was nothing else wrong with hit. To read THE BOOK you'd be terrified to let it eat anything...

:D

[ChicM]

ps - that last post was of course me...dunno how it got tagged as Guest. Must be the upgrade or something...

[ChicM]

He weighed more tonight than he did last night for some reason. Even though he was flown yesterday and only fed half rations and it was below freezing last night…he was still heavy. I can only assume he had nailed a mouse in the pen. But with the Scottish Field Meet a’coming up and Adrian’s admonishments to “get him keen” ringing in my ears I decided to fly him anyway. At that weight he would fly ok but wouldn’t hunt so the local blackbirds would be spared their usual panic.

We set off along the farm track with Jester following on round the barns and onto the telephone poles. Scott had run ahead and Jester, as usual, set off in hot pursuit in case he had the lure on him. He pitched up onto a telephone pole and Jamie and I were admiring the glorious sunset when I saw it from the corner of my eye. A black streak was coming across the field towards Jester. It was a peregrine, a big one and it meant business! I ran forward shouting and waving my glove in the air and, with only a few yards to spare, Jester saw it too and threw his wings up in threat display. Whether it was that, whether it was me bellowing at it or whether it was just trying to buzz him…I dunno, but she (I am assuming it was a female because of the size) pitched up and flew off before she hit him. Maybe she wasn’t in full attack mode but she did come in real quick and looked like she meant it.

Anyway, excitement over, we carried on and worked some of his energy out flying him up and down the track chasing the kids. Worked great on the kids too…they’ll sleep tonight.

[ChicM]

“Hare – just ducked into those rushes behind that big stone” said Mark.

“You sure?” asked Adrian.

“Certain” replied Mark.

“Let’s get it then” said Adrian.

We were out on the Scottish Field meet kindly organised by Adrian (Varmint) and the weather could not have been more perfect. Calm, exceptionally sunny and, believe it or not, warm. We even saw honey bees on the hill. Hard to think it was still January and only last week we were being lashed by gales. I won’t go into detail about the meet – wouldn’t want to steal Adrian’s thunder – so I’ll just talk about Jester.

When I picked him up this morning he was weighing in at 1lb 7 ¼ oz. God knows how – he’d only had a few wings and legs yesterday and he’d not dropped a bit since then. He must be catching mice. This wasn’t good as although he’d caught the woodie last week at this weight, he wasn’t very responsive and I figured with all the people around (not to mention dogs) it would be a lost cause.

The morning session was cut short when Scott, my youngest, fell into a bog and got his feet and legs soaked. Back to the car to dry him out whilst the others went on without us.

After a fabulous lunch and a chance to blether with Forum members (Bod, Sighthound, Bill and Jester) we joined a few of Adrian’s paying guests back on the hill for some ferreting and walked up bunnies. Despite it being perfect weather and the most fabulous rabbit land you could ask for, the bunnies just weren’t out to play and we only had one flush which was taken in style by Bill’s female Harris, Cleo. Then Mark spotted the hare.

Adrian worked his way round the cover and started to make his way through it. When he was about half-way the hare flushed and, from our position on the hill about 300yards away, five eager male Harris hawks took to the air. Jester seemed to anticipate the hare’s path as he got to it first but simply buzzed it and would not put in. But Finch was much bolder and he went in no problem! That was all the encouragement Jester needed and he flipped back over and also pressed his attack, then in came Stifler and all three Harris hawks were swooping and grabbing at the hare in succession and in concert. Dangerous Dave Driscoll did the most impressive sprint I have ever seen to take him down the hill and across the field where he intercepted the hare on its way out of the cover as it sprinted away from the pack having kicked them off. But this time, it had the speed on the birds and they gave up. That was pure adrenalin.

It was 4.00pm and the most glorious sunset was brewing as we set off back towards the cars. Adrian had said that there was a chance of some last flights around some of the big warrens near the parking spot. He wasn’t wrong either. We arranged ourselves on the edge of the ridge whilst Adrian and Gary dropped the ferrets down the holes. Within seconds we had a flush and Jester was off the glove like a rocket with two of Adrian’s pack in pursuit. He’s a super fast little Harris though and he outpaced not only both his siblings but also the rabbit and hit it on the deck after a very committed 200 yard chase. Sadly just as he hit it, the bunny dropped in a hole and he was left with that “Where did it go?” expression on his face.

“Thought you said he wasn’t keen at that weight?” laughed Gary when I puffed back up the hill.

The next flush was an absolute cracker with the bunny running to and fro, jinking and jumping. Once again, Jester was first off the fist and first to it but missed and then led the pack before he and two of Adrian’s birds finally nailed it. Dangerous Dave made the call as he was nearest: Jester had made the kill. Getting three excited Harris hawks off a rabbit is no mean achievement and not without its dangers either. But we managed it and the bunny went in the bag. We’d hardly taken up position again when there was another flush but this was a shorter one as the rabbit popped in a nearby hole. Ditto the next one which was a longer chase but ended when the rabbit bounced over a stone dyke and into a hole.

The next flush saw my little Exocet off again first, but he missed and the rabbit was finally taken by Andy’s bird. All the hawks were revved up by this time and they all slammed into the kill. What a melee. Five hawks on one rabbit and chaos ensued as we tried to disentangle them. Andy got Cleo off by waving some food but Jester was having none of that – he wanted that food too and went after Cleo, grabbing at her back to my acute embarrassment. Luckily he didn’t get a serious grip of her and we managed to separate them with no apparent harm done. Ross, my son Jamie’s pal, had come to help and he lifted Preston, one of the other males, but as he tried to get the jess into the safety Preston lashed out and footed his right hand. A very painful introduction to Harris hawking. To his credit though, the wee guy carried on and held onto the bird.

Last flush of the evening followed the similar pattern of Jester getting away like a missile but the bunny dropping into a hole. Game over, but what a truly exciting final hour.

Back at the cars with the birds boxed, Adrian worked his usual magic with the “no knife” rabbit cleaning trick – you really gotta see this to believe it – and then we were off home to let our little hero stuff himself on fresh, still warm, rabbit.

After he’d filled his crop to bursting I went through the usual cleaning and checking routine and I discovered the price of his success: another broken tail feather. Be seeing you soon Adrian…get the imping kit out mate!

[Hawkmaster]

Lovely read, I was living it with you. Glad you had a cracking day.

[Varmint]

:arrow:

[ChicM]

He's fine - showing his scars off to everyone who will listen. Think you have three apprentices in the making there Varmint!

As for Jester - I can't take any credit. It was great seeing him fly out of his skin at a high weight like that. For all the days that don't go the way you want them, there's one in the bank to keep me warm for weeks!

[ChicM]

Sorry about the delay in posting this: been busy at work. This was for an outing taken on the 31st January, of course.

I went out with Gary and his son Sean after meeting him at the Scottish Forum Field meet last week. Gary, apart from being an exceptionally nice guy, has one major thing going for him: ferrets. We met up at his place at 11.00am and the plan was to walk the ground first, spotting any likely holes, whilst Jester followed on and then put the ferrets to work later.

We got out the car and started walking up the game crop with Jester straight into his routine: we go 20 yards; he flies into the first tree ahead of us. As we draw level, he flies forward onto the tree stump. As we draw level he flies off to take position at the top of the pine tree on the edge of the crop, waiting for whatever is driven through. On this occasion, nothing was hiding so no flights. I tried to bring him down onto Sean’s fist for a chick leg but he was having none of it. At his new higher weight, he’s not so keen to come to the fist, especially a stranger’s fist, when there’s hunting to be done. Anyway, his head was bobbing as he’d clearly spotted something just over the brow of the hill. He moved to another tree about 20 yards further down the pine stand for a better looksee. Then he was off on a mission.

The three of us jumped the fence after him but when I got to the other side there was no sign. I heard a bell and spotted him high up in a pine tree on the ridge, head bobbing in eagerness. A wood pigeon broke cover from the next tree and he was after it like a shot, but it was clearly too far away for him. Then four more broke in formation, this time a little behind and below him, so he immediately switched on to this pack. He gained on them, but they were still odds on to outdistance him when a single woodie broke well behind and well below him. This was definitely the one. He piled on the power and started to home in on it. He was maybe six feet behind it and gaining all the time when it happened: a cock pheasant took fright at the aerial commotion and flushed immediately below them. Jester folded his wings like a falcon and Bam! hit it about 3 feet off the ground just as it was rising. He bounced off and the pheasant tried to fly away once more but it hit a wire netting fence and Jester smacked into it again, this time getting kicked off. The pheasant again tried to get away but again hit the fence and Jester wasn’t to be denied this time. He locked on and the thrashing stopped.

Gary and Sean had just caught up with me when he grabbed the pheasant and had sadly missed the wood pigeon flights, but what a grandstand view we had from the ridge. Now I had to get to him fast: quite apart from worrying he would lose the pheasant (or worse-get kicked senseless), he was on the grass verge of the small road that runs past the hunting ground. It was a good 300yard sprint downhill and over two fences but I eventually got to him where he was stuck fast to the back-end of the pheasant with that puzzled yet relieved look male Harris’s get when you come to help them out on a big kill. I despatched the pheasant and waited until a car had passed (with the driver looking at me the whole time clearly wondering what mischief I was up to) before lifting him and the kill to a place of safety so he could have a good pull at it.

What a flight. Priceless.

However we’d only just got out of the car so I decided to take him off the pheasant before he ate too much and see if he’d fly a bunny for Gary and Sean. Adrian has drummed it into me not to get him going too early on multiple kills but I felt there were extenuating circumstances today!

We walked back up the hill with young Sean muttering “Magic” and grinning ear to ear at what he’d seen. He was now blooded and pretty much hooked on hawking after only ten minutes in the field.

The first warren we found was in a perfect spot with a great downhill slip possible over open terrain. I positioned myself well above and Gary dropped a ferret into the hole. Within a minute he gave me the thumbs up sign indicating Bugs was at home. In a flash a rabbit bolted and Jester was off the fist and after it. It made a quick turn however and went racing off uphill giving Jester a wide aerial arc to make and an uphill flight to get back on it. He was closing on it fast when it dropped into a hole under a tree. I sprinted up to retrieve him and I could see the fury in his eyes as he glared down the hole. One down.

We headed further up the hill and dropped a ferret into another likely hole getting a bolt immediately. Jester took this one by flying straight up and dropping straight down onto it. He had a hold of it too but had his legs straddling some raspberry canes and couldn’t hold onto the bunny which tore free and legged it down the hill with Jester in hot pursuit until it also dropped into another hole. Two down.

“Plenty rabbits right enough” said Gary as we made our way back along the edge of the game crop where we found a very active looking warren. In went both ferrets this time and believe it or not we bolted nine bunnies from that bury. Jester flew four of them (the others bolted when he was chasing their housemates) but the undergrowth was very thick and every time he put in he was slowed down by the game crop at the crucial last second and the rabbit dodged him. I could tell he was getting frustrated and on one flight he just gave up. I reckon that the presence of Adrian’s birds at the field meet had made him more determined because today he was neither as quick nor as ruthless. Mind you, he had already killed a pheasant so I could hardly complain! He had also had had a fair bit of food that was probably through his crop by now so he was getting pretty high – certainly higher than he’d ever been flown before – and was becoming more and more reluctant to come back after a miss.

We worked a few more holes and were literally on the last one when we got a good clean bolt over clear ground and Jester finally nailed his rabbit for the day. I necked it and then opened the carcass at the shoulder to let him take his fill. And did he ever. I finally took him off after what looked like almost half of the rabbit had gone down his crop and he was struggling to fit any more in.

Back at the mews I washed and cleaned him up, getting the muck and blood out from between his toes and around his talons. I dipped his battered tail in warm water and then got him on his perch before weighing the pheasant. Two and a half kilos it was. He was flying today at 650 grams: that’s almost four times his size.

I think I made Gary’s mind up Adrian – he wants a male!

[Kevin Massey]

cracking stuff !!!

kev

[Adam Barrett]

well done mate!
sounds like your bird is s**t hot

[Bod]

Nice one chic.
Looks like Gary and his ferrets will pay dividends.

[ChicM]

Thanks guys - can't take any credit tho! Varmint bred me a cracker and the bird is smarter than me so I just drive him there and let him get on with it!

[Shaun Byrne]

Good read Chick, thats me and YOU benefitting from well bred HH.

[ChicM]

Yup - Varmint is da man! (Even tho he has sex with falcons...)

[Shaun Byrne]

****, I thought that Gyr/Pere had a bit of an ugly look about it!!

[Sighthound]

Thanks guys - can't take any credit tho! Varmint bred me a cracker and the bird is smarter than me so I just drive him there and let him get on with it!

.....but a large % is also due to you Chic!
One thing that struck me was when you said Jester was your 'pal', you have a good rapport with him, that must count for something.
look forward to accompanying you and Jester again, I'll bring my big Hob next time the one you said looked like an otter!

Thanks for a great day.

[ChicM]

No worries Gary - look forward to it! We'll see if we can flush a salmon with him!

[Varmint]

:arrow:

[Varmint]

:arrow:

[ChicM]

No worries Ade - wouldn't be you if you didn't find at least one criticism! :D

Know what you mean about the self-hunting. When he's a little high like this he does tend to be more...opportunistic. But then there is a very good argument for allowing this trait to some extent and it rests in the text of that days hunt: if I'd had him focused totally on me and he had come back for that chick leg like I tried, just think of the fabulous flight we'd have missed on the woodies and the pheasant!

No matter how expert we are Varmint, we can never entirely predict the outcome of any action of a wild animal.

Interestingly when he's flying around the farm at a high weight he is completely focused on me. I suspect that this is because there is no game there (apart from blackbirds!) and so he knows that we're just "playing" and all food will be on my fist. When we're up at Gerard's tho, he knows that there are lots of opportunities to hunt and so is much more alert and focused on what is happening all around him and if I don't flush something then he is pretty confident there is something worth hunting nearby.

Take your point tho so will watch it.

[ChicM]

Nightmare.

Gave him a rabbit leg this morning and he was fine and dandy. Got home with the kids and Jamie went out to get his gear on, weigh him and bring him in whilst they did their homework. When he got to the back door he said “Dad, look at this”. Sticking out of Jester’s crop was the end of the rabbit leg bone. I couldn’t tell whether it had broken the skin or not but it did not look good. I called Adrian who, by luck, had Karl in the car with him and after a bit of discussion he urged “Get him to a vet. Now!”

I called round and got an appointment with Mr Lawrie – a well respected avian and raptor vet in the area – and when he saw him he said “It might not be through yet but it is definitely coming through. Best leave him here and we’ll get it out in case necrosis sets in”.

So now we’re all waiting…

[Bod]

Sorry to hear Jesters in the wars Chic.
Hope he gets sorted.

[Hawkmaster]

DAMN! Not good matey, hope all goes well?

[Kevin Massey]

chicM.

jed my male harris had the same a few years back (only with a pheasant bone)..

the vet had to remove it through the crop....i sh*t a brick when i saw it at first......

but it was all ok after a few days................im sure it will be fine bud !!

kev

ps i was told the in the wild they pull things like that them-selfs through the crop...

[ChicM]

Thanks guys - the Vet was all confidence and since I haven't heard from him tonight I think the procedure went well. I just hope the recovery is infection free. He was glad that it wasn't the rabbit tail bones as he said they can lodge quite firmly in the gut and it takes a major op to remove them! Never thought of any of this before.

Birds...what can you do?

[ChicM]

He was sitting in his box quite contentedly when I went to the Vet’s to get him. The op was a success and the nurse showed me the offending bone: as I suspected, he had put the bone down in one and it had bent at the joint leaving half in his stomach and half in his crop. Another lesson learned – I know they eat bones and stuff but next time I’ll make sure I split the bones at the joints at the very least before feeing whole legs.

He’s on anti-biotics for the next ten days and I have to give him food off the bone for a few days and, obviously, not let him pack his crop. He had an ounce of food two hours ago and seems perfectly fine so I’ve just given him another ounce to tide him through the night.

Phew…

[Falconer]

Hi m8
glad to here all is fine
i printed off ya diary last night and took it to work with me to read
sad i know lol
But just started to read befor work and couldn't wait
ALL THE BEST M8.

[ChicM]

Thanks Falconer. Much appreciated.

[Shaun Byrne]

Nice to hear CM, I suppose he's not completely out of the woods yet? Just needs a bit of R & R.

[ChicM]

Yeah. Secondary infection is the worry but he looks fine for now. Sitting on his bow in the kitchen watching everything going on. One thing...he sure ain't screaming tonight!

[Varmint]

:arrow:

[Sprout]

Falconry is a steep learning curve which I know your realising quickly. Accidents happen but most are avoidable, listen to the experience around you. You've got a bloody good hawk there chick, adrian will steer you right, not ignore good advice. He's harsh but fair, as is falconry!!

[ChicM]

Harsh? He's a grumpy old tart... :D

[Varmint]

:arrow:

[Bod]

Chic
Glad to hear Jester's back home.

I reckon you and Adrian should be known as Jack and Vera as in the Duckworths from Coronation Street. You seem to have a similar relationship :rolleyes:

[ChicM]

Ay oop Bod, stop tha mitherin...

Clearly I want to be Vera.

[Varmint]

:arrow:

[Bod]

pmsl

[ChicM]

“Yeah – exercise is good for him” said Adrian “Just keep his weight up and he shouldn’t be keen to hunt.”

He is still recuperating from his op of Wednesday night and I’ve been pushing his weight and feeding him lean rabbit and pheasant a little and often so as not to put pressure on his crop. Anyway – he was at 670 gms and I figured he’d follow us around but be pretty laid back. Mistake. As soon as he was off the fist he took station in a tree, head bobbed twice and then set off on a mission after some collared doves. He nearly got one too but it veered off at the last minute leaving him with too tight a turn to make.

As we walked him down the farm track I heard a pheasant call from across the road. So did he it seems as he took off and flew about 300yards to take up station in a tree for a few seconds before crashing into the undergrowth. We ran down to find him on a low branch, and then the pheasant moved again so he crashed in once more but missed. The pheasant broke cover and he took off after it down the road. More sprinting ensued and I found him in a tree beside the road. I pulled out the lure and he came up for a look but just then the bloody pheasant moved again and he slammed it, this time getting a hold of it in a flurry of feathers and panic. It wasn’t a good hold though, back-end job, so the pheasant got away from him in jig time and took off. Again he chased it and again we were left running down the road for another half a mile till he gave up and came back for the lure.

I guess he’s not feeling too out of sorts after his ordeal…

[Shaun Byrne]

He's a born killer mate!!

[Adam Barrett]

Well done mate sounds like youv got a cracker there and he sounds like he has a lot of guts about him.

Also is there any particular reason i cant see varmints posts??!

[ChicM]

I think our friend Varmint has decided to leave and take his posts with him mate. His call I guess.

[ChicM]

After a flat calm in the morning we got more high winds today and cold with it. We kept him tight to the farmyard and worked him in the wind through and over the trees. Very spectacular it was too with him coming in high and then just hanging above us in the wind. I hit on the idea of trying to get him to wait about 20ft above the fist and then popping a bit of pheasant meat on quickly so he’d drop onto it. Great theory…but again my inexperience showed and I couldn’t get a routine going that consistently produced a wait above and I’m sure I just confused the hell out of him yelling “Hup!” and “Ho!” and god knows what else.

Still, we all got some exercise for an hour and hopefully even he had some fun. His crop seems to have healed really well and he’s kept all food down no problem. Pity we couldn’t hunt him properly this weekend as that will be it until next week now what with work commitments.

[Shaun Byrne]

I think our friend Varmint has decided to leave and take his posts with him mate. His call I guess.

You're right mate, profile gone along with all posts, nice of him to say bye!!

[Adam Barrett]

Strange eh- have i missed somet thats gone on here?!

[ChicM]

Well...everyone's different guys.

He's off and that seems to be the end of it.

[Parahawker]

whos going to be my Valentine now?

[ChicM]

I'm sure your popularity will win through Parahawker and you won't be on yer own come Monday. :D

[ChicM]

Hello I am Scott I am 9

[ChicM]

and he's a muppet who's been driving me daft to be allowed to post on this forum!!! Don't answer him - it will only encourage him more!

[Shaun Byrne]

Hi Scott how are you mate? Tell your Dad to stop hogging the PC!! So what do you think of Jester? I hear you are one of his human lures.

Send your dad to bed with no supper and chat to all the NORMAL people on here.

[Shaun Byrne]

Just had a thought Chick, I hope he IS your son after all that! lol!!

[ChicM]

Scott here - Jester is cool. He is alot smaller than our last female HH and is alot quicker than Tzena. And hes killed more than Tzena when we had her and what bird do you have?

[Shaun Byrne]

Hello again Scott. You finally got to use the PC then!
I'm mainly hunting with a FHH, a small one called Phoenix, one of Adrians birds. Maybe you saw her at Adrians place?

[ChicM]

He's gone Shaun - week about parenting sucks mate. I get 'em back next week :cry:

[Shaun Byrne]

He can answer next week then, if he can get near the PC, lol!!

[ChicM]

I think that birds have more natural intelligence than we credit them with. I don’t mean Harris hawks – everyone knows they’re smart – I mean songbirds. Jester is an inveterate bird chaser, I can’t stop him; all I can do is try to engineer it so that he can’t catch them. If there are loads about I keep him on the fist for example, but the odd one surprised still provokes a chase. Round my farm there are loads of songbirds. I feed them daily so the garden is full of an anticipation of finches and blackbirds and robins and wrens every morning when I come out with the feed. They know me and hang about within a few feet of me whilst I fill up the various feeders or put out the mealworms.

It all changes, somehow, as soon as I put on my wellies and head for the mews. The alarm calls start as soon as they see me and by the time I reach the mews the birds have all headed for the hedgerows to bury themselves deep within. Once Jester is out for his exercise, there is almost complete silence. It’s eery actually. Nothing moves and nothing calls. Every so often a blackbird will zoom out of a bush at full tilt “pik-pik-piking” in alarm and Jester will set off in pursuit. He’s never caught one on the farm and I reckon it’s because they are fit and alert to his presence.

So it was today. We spent forty minutes, stolen from a busy work schedule, just pottering around and practising with his new trick of catching chick heads from a vertical climb on call. Looks great when it works but if he misses or I’m not ready he sits down at my feet which is not so great.

Anyway, at the very last I walked him back through the trees and he spooked a blackbird in the tall sycamore tree. After a short chase he came back to sit over 50ft up the tree. Next thing I see him coming out of it like a bullet. “Where the blazes is he going?” I wondered as he powered in between the shed and the wall to crash onto the ground.

A mouse. He’d seen a mouse from 50ft up and 100ft away and not only that, he’d nailed the wee thing.

Sometimes it’s the bizarre that gives the most pleasure.

[ChicM]

When does being opportunistic become self-hunting?

I took him out today, bang on his prime hunting weight and therefore expecting him to be very responsive. It was a beautiful sunny day with some snow showers sneaking in here and there, but the forecast was for a freshening wind so I knew that we had a limited time out on the ridge. He knows this ground intimately now and he heads for each tree in succession, right on cue.

As I walked through the dead bracken I saw him getting all snakey-headed and then whoosh! Down like a shot into it, only to pop-up hot on the tail of a fast moving bunny. He almost caught it but it dropped into one of the hundred or so holes that are around this area. I walked up to him and he was sitting on a deadfall, still head-bobbing and looking at what I assumed was the rabbit hole his quarry had vanished into. I put a chick leg on the glove and whistled. Nothing. Again…and again…nothing. He started to weave his way through the branches of the deadfall heading for the rabbit hole. “Determined are we?” I thought. Just then, a large cock pheasant broke cover right underneath him and he gave chase! It flew off into a large stand of pine with himself in close pursuit. The pheasant vanished into the gloom wherupon Jester went high in a tree and sulked. My mistake then – he knew it was there clearly and expected me to flush it but when I didn’t he decided to do the job himself. It wasn’t lost on me either that I’d put him at a disadvantage by my inexperience.

After a fair bit of persuasion, he flew back to the fist and we recommenced our patrol.

Once again, he reverted to the obedient little hawk and followed on perfectly, tree to tree to tree. He had one other flight at a rabbit, which dropped into a hole, and a truly amazing soar around the crowns of the trees on top of the ridge before I brought him down to the river valley on my fist. I let him go again as I knew he would head for the high tree beside the river, mainly because there is a warren underneath it and he’s caught rabbits there before as they run towards it and away from me. Today however, something caught his attention farther away towards the little hamlet and he set off purposefully towards one of the gardens. Not good. He did a quick pass at whatever it was that had attracted him whilst I prayed that it wasn’t a pet rabbit, some chickens or a Yorkshire terrier, and then sat on the roof of the house. I looked for my lure. Not there. I must have dropped the thing somewhere. I started to call him back for a whole chick and he came as far as the greenhouse in the garden and stopped. Off he went again but this time I saw the flurry of pheasant wings in the distance so knew he was on a chase. Trouble was it was over the other side of the river wasn’t it.

Lots of whistling and calling eventually saw him pop back up again. Thank god he hadn’t nailed it in a garden at least. But yet again, he was really reluctant to come to the fist and it took a lot of persuasion to get him back.

Once there, though, I kept him under the thumb and walked him up the hill well away from the houses.

We had a couple more flights but the wind had freshened and when he was blown half a mile in pursuit of a cock pheasant I called it a day.

At the end of it all, when feeding him up, I had him coming to the fist, first call every call. Part of the puzzle we call falconry I guess: perhaps what he was doing was not necessarily bad field manners and self-hunting, just more because he could see prey that I couldn’t. But I will have to be extra careful around that area now just in case he decides to make the garden areas a regular flypast, that’s for sure.

He’ll be going down to moult soon anyway so probably best if I work him off the fist whilst ferreting for the next few trips.

You reading this Gary - you're needed mate!

[Varmint]

Self Hunting? who said anything about self hunting?

[Sighthound]

Hi Chic,

I've just read it!
I'm using my folks computer in sunny Hertfordshire.
We travel back tomorrow.
Looking forward to next weekend if it's still ok.

All the best

[ChicM]

And it all seemed to be going so well up until this weekend too…

After yesterday’s problems with garden hunting, I thought I’d try him on a hunt again today anyway (despite my decision only to work with ferrets – you know how it goes) but steer him well away from the area where he went off-message yesterday. He flew a bunny almost right away but it popped into a hole and, as ever, he was reluctant to leave the area in case it made another appearance.

We’d walked about 30 yds from the hole when three crows broke cover from trees just below us. He was off like a shot and flew the lagging bird really hard, almost catching it in the air before he gave up and went and sat on the roof of a (different) house down below. Then what I had feared would happen, happened. Something in this garden also attracted his attention and down he went. I ran as fast as I could but there was no sign of him. I called and whistled from over the garden fence. Nothing. I had to go in and get him then. It was early morning so there was no sign of life; in fact there were no cars in the drive so maybe the owner wasn’t home. As I got into the yard I heard the commotion coming from the barn. Pigeons. The house owner was a pigeon fancier and he kept them in his barn. Jeez, now we were in trouble.

The pigeons were going nuts behind a chicken wire screen and Jester was thrashing and crashing into it trying to get to them. I pulled out my pheasant wing lure, which I had found in a compartment in my bag after yesterday, and waved it at him, all the time terrified that the owner would come charging out and things would get ugly. Eventually, thank god, he nailed the lure and I leaned over the half-door and bodily lifted him and the lure out of there and out of the driveway to safety.

Nightmare. Now he was furious and simply would not release the lure. I tried the trick Gaz described of covering his eyes but even when he was lying on the deck, eyes covered and feet in the air he would not release. In the end I threw out a chick piece and held the swivel. After several pulls he released so I quickly got the lure away and managed to scoop him back onto the fist. Time to go I think…

Harris hawks being what they are, I reckon he’ll have marked that house in his memory now and I think it best to steer well clear of this ground for some considerable time. Maybe it’s just time to put him down for the season. He’s made a few notable kills now and I’ve gained in experience and confidence (ok – so I still make rookie mistakes but you can’t learn everything from books or observation or being told by others: some mistakes you actually have to make yourself).

Perhaps one last go with the ferrets next weekend to end on a high tho…perhaps.

[Varmint]

In the words of the song:

"Im addicted to you baby, but (Your) it's a hard habit to break!"

Come on sing along!