There is really no way to sugar coat this: I am totally obsessed with the sport of falconry. I cried like a baby when I released my bird in the spring and then went through a sort of detox period, moderate depression and severe withdrawals during the several weeks following. I felt like I was on the road to getting my addiction under control and then, this weekend I totally fell off the wagon. Hard.
I attended the Blairsville Scottish Festival and Highland Games this past weekend, where our falconry club has been invited for the last 12 years to provide an exhibit discussing the sport and our hunting partners, which, this year, included a collection of hawks and a falcon. There were several of us in attendance with many birds. Being birdless, my sponsor graciously brought his gyrfalcon for me to exhibit and talk to folks about.
So, spending 8 hours around people who share the love of the sport, spending the day around birds that I admire and adore, and spending much of the day with a bird on the fist talking to folks about the sport and how much I love it…um, yeah. I left Blairsville Saturday ready to trap something on the way the home.
I have talked non-stop about falconry and birds (even more than usual) since then. I have strategized and planned future birds. I have scouted landed and calculated hunting resources. I even gave away chickens this weekend (13 total) to start downsizing the chicken operation to make more time for falconry this fall. (Those of you that know me know how I love my chickens, so you know this is serious.)
And now, I wait. The hardest part. From today, there are 82 days until I start trapping. Eighty two LONG DAYS until I start the process of going out to find my new hunting partner.
But, I do know she’s out there…already hatched. Just a little fluffy thing with hard pinned feathers starting to pop out all over the place. Soon, she’ll be hopping from branch to branch and then, she’ll be flying and soaring and taking her own game. And, when the time is right, we’ll meet. And, at first she’ll hate me (and I probably will be frustrated with her). But after a few days of gentle coaxing, she’ll trust me and eventually work with me…and then, that’s when the magic will begin.
Eighty two LONG DAYS. Tick tock. Tick tock.
Here is a link to Scott M. Anna's Facebook page to view all the great images he captured at the festival, include several of our birds... https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1273200753&sk=photos&collection_token=1273200753%3A2305272732%3A69&set=a.10204286403981587.1073742142.1273200753&type=3&pnref=story
I attended the Blairsville Scottish Festival and Highland Games this past weekend, where our falconry club has been invited for the last 12 years to provide an exhibit discussing the sport and our hunting partners, which, this year, included a collection of hawks and a falcon. There were several of us in attendance with many birds. Being birdless, my sponsor graciously brought his gyrfalcon for me to exhibit and talk to folks about.
So, spending 8 hours around people who share the love of the sport, spending the day around birds that I admire and adore, and spending much of the day with a bird on the fist talking to folks about the sport and how much I love it…um, yeah. I left Blairsville Saturday ready to trap something on the way the home.
I have talked non-stop about falconry and birds (even more than usual) since then. I have strategized and planned future birds. I have scouted landed and calculated hunting resources. I even gave away chickens this weekend (13 total) to start downsizing the chicken operation to make more time for falconry this fall. (Those of you that know me know how I love my chickens, so you know this is serious.)
And now, I wait. The hardest part. From today, there are 82 days until I start trapping. Eighty two LONG DAYS until I start the process of going out to find my new hunting partner.
But, I do know she’s out there…already hatched. Just a little fluffy thing with hard pinned feathers starting to pop out all over the place. Soon, she’ll be hopping from branch to branch and then, she’ll be flying and soaring and taking her own game. And, when the time is right, we’ll meet. And, at first she’ll hate me (and I probably will be frustrated with her). But after a few days of gentle coaxing, she’ll trust me and eventually work with me…and then, that’s when the magic will begin.
Eighty two LONG DAYS. Tick tock. Tick tock.
Here is a link to Scott M. Anna's Facebook page to view all the great images he captured at the festival, include several of our birds... https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1273200753&sk=photos&collection_token=1273200753%3A2305272732%3A69&set=a.10204286403981587.1073742142.1273200753&type=3&pnref=story