Bengal Owl
26-08-2005, 02:52 AM
like the way this reads though you may to injoy
A swift bird, gliding high above the grassy plain, is the focal point of a group of hunters scattered below. The falcon, its identity betrayed by its size, speed, and shape appears as merely a speck cutting across the sky like a shooting star. It suddently tucks its wings and begins to dive, its stream-lined silhouette growing slightly larger, until a flock of mallards on the small lake take notice and begin frantically to disperse. But for one duck, slightly too young and inexperienced, it is too late. The peregrine has already chosen its feathered target, and the duck is killed instantly as the peregrine slams its razor-sharp talons into its flesh. The two birds fall to the ground together as the men emit a muffled cheer and begin trekking toward the landing site to recover the prey and the falcon.
This mystical scene has been repeated for thousands of years, from the sands of Arabia to the mountains of East Asia or the prairies of the American Great Plains. Little has changed fundamentally in the sport -- or, as some would argue -- the art of falconry since the practice first began around four thousand years ago, somewhere between the Near and Far East. The sport has been subjected to shifting popularity and restrictions, but interest in it continues, and the intense relationship between falconers and their birds remains extremely and mysteriously strong.
A swift bird, gliding high above the grassy plain, is the focal point of a group of hunters scattered below. The falcon, its identity betrayed by its size, speed, and shape appears as merely a speck cutting across the sky like a shooting star. It suddently tucks its wings and begins to dive, its stream-lined silhouette growing slightly larger, until a flock of mallards on the small lake take notice and begin frantically to disperse. But for one duck, slightly too young and inexperienced, it is too late. The peregrine has already chosen its feathered target, and the duck is killed instantly as the peregrine slams its razor-sharp talons into its flesh. The two birds fall to the ground together as the men emit a muffled cheer and begin trekking toward the landing site to recover the prey and the falcon.
This mystical scene has been repeated for thousands of years, from the sands of Arabia to the mountains of East Asia or the prairies of the American Great Plains. Little has changed fundamentally in the sport -- or, as some would argue -- the art of falconry since the practice first began around four thousand years ago, somewhere between the Near and Far East. The sport has been subjected to shifting popularity and restrictions, but interest in it continues, and the intense relationship between falconers and their birds remains extremely and mysteriously strong.