The brisk wind already cut through my thick duck cloth coat. I looked up at the tree line and the sparse cover by the small woodlot. "Hmm Mike, do you think we'll bust anything here?" "We can try, look at all the sine" he replied in a gruff manner. I released the bird into the wind and he was carried aloft to the top of a medium sized tree. Landing in the top branches Aquila quickly ruffled up to much larger than his normal size. I walked over to the nearby brush pile and picked up a perfect hawking stick. "Wow, look at this." The ground was covered in droppings and the snow was all but melted in this spot for being crushed by so many rabbit feet. I shoved my stick into the pile and looked around to see if anything would abandon the pile. This process was repeated until I was satisfied that no one was home there. Mike was over in the grass watching a fox squirrel in the parking lot of a state office building nearby. "Go get that squirrel!" he squealed as I looked up and began to bolt across the field. The squirrel had a great advantage on me and made it into a mess of oak before I was able to head him off. The hawk never got a chance to see him. As I was walking back, a white tail flashed and a rabbit left her bunk. Aquila sprung off his perch, after the rabbit, but his start was bad, all the energy from the jump ended up absorbed by the springy branches. He beat hard and caught up to the rabbit as it broke cover and headed across the road. No deal, the hawk hit and skidded as the rabbit crossed safely and made her way into the field. All my jump ups went to good use though, because moments after hitting ground, the tiercel red tail was airborne again and headed off after his quarry. Flying at about 10 feet he pitched and yawed trying to find the best place to hit. Finally -wingover and he was down in the tall weeds. I strained my ears, but I was soon disappointed by the sound of bells walking in the underbrush. In a moment he was up, and on top of a power pole. Poor Aq was not alone for long, though, as soon a murder of crows joined the act, flying in to harass the hawk. I ran up to them shouting, and drove them off, but as I did� a rustle in the grass ahead and Mike shouting WEEE WEEE WEEE! Ignoring the crows unmerciful return, Aquila dove from his perch to about 15 feet whipping toward the path of the rabbit. The crows were in hot pursuit of the hawk, who did not seem to care. He went down and for a moment I thought I heard a rabbit squeal over the din of the black banes. I ran as fast as I could to where he was, only to find that the crows were circling a killess raptor. I picked him up and gave him a treat for several hard flights and cast him into the wind again. This time he flew to a large bush on the other side of a busy two lane road. Walking parallel the road, I saw him take off once again and head toward the stream, full power. Crashing into the bank he popped up again and into a tree, only to leave its safe harbor moments later. Flying into a hugh culvert he passed out of sight. "NO!" I screamed. "Hey Jason, a passage bird just flew into the culvert!" Mike said calmly. "I know, that was MY bird!" I shouted back. "No it wasn't," replied Mike, gesturing toward the bush. He paused, "Oh, it was, we need to get over there!" There was no need to tell me, I was already running. I dropped onto the ice without heed. It was five below last night, no need for caution. The tracks lead right into the culvert, and out the other side. I ran through, the low hanging brush on the other side grasping at my face. I could feel my pulse race. He was out of sight on the other side. I stopped -No bells. Running forward I was joined by Mike -No bells. It continued like that for several minutes -No bells. Finally I heard Mike shout, "JASON!" I whipped around and ran to his voice. He had already picked the hawk up, and was allowing him to mantle, sun!
ning himself and trying to dry after a long hard flight at the rabbit that culminated in a hair�s breadth escape. I had passed him by, not noticing the Red Tail trying to crawl down a rabbit hole. I took him and we continued the hunt. After that incident, the quality of flights went down. I busted several more in front of him, and he flew hard, but missed all, often not even trying slips that were further away. Finally he was in the perfect position, in a dead snag just overlooking a patch of Honeysuckle. I entered from the left and Mike from the back. We had hit this patch before, but judging by the look on Hawk's face, we knew he saw something. Again he sprung into action, diving straight down into the grass. Before I knew he hit, EEEE EEEE EEEEE, he had grabbed a large doe by the back of the head. I made in quickly and gave the bird his due, not nearly enough to crop him up, but enough to stop most of the mourning peeps. Mike gutted the unfortunate bunny and we piled back into the van. Elapsed time: Three Hours.
Our next stop was near some railroad tracks. Over the years, successive generations of telegraph poles had built 9-foot burms of earth at the border to this field. A ten foot precipice greeted us about five feet into the field. It was not impassible, just steep. "Think there are rabbits here?" I asked. In answer, one left bunk not three feet in front of me. I dropped the hawk's jesses and he flew off after the cottontail. It ran down the embankment, about 10-15 feet then turned directly into the wind. Curving back around, the hawk went down on him about 5 feet from the base of the hill �the rabbit had been running parallel to it for several feet. He ran a circle around the hawk then made for a hole in the base of the hill. Aq flew to the top of a telegraph pole (the most I've ever seen him use manmade objects was today) and waited. We worked the top of the rise first, jumping about 3 for him, he took out after one, which remained on the rise, missed and let it go to hole. The other two ran down the embankment and out into the field. The prospect of another tail chase seemed to disagree with the bird so he remained steadfast. We worked our way down the side of the bank, again busting about 5, producing about 3 flights, again head on instead of tail chases. Finally after trying a nearby brush pile, we hit the center of the field. The last rabbit the hawk flew at ran straight to him, headed for a hole in the mound which supported Hawk's pole. He dropped down from the pole, and, when level with the top of the mound, whirled around, changing direction. This gave him the advantage of being close to his quarry, and behind it. He hit her in about three inches of cover. I watched from a distance as he smashed into the ground, then bounced a few times, wings held back, crest up �no noise. I bolted toward the rise, not caring about the other rabbit that I jumped. When I got to the top, the hawk was looking at me as if to say, "What are you doing here? I caught this rabbit, and you can't have it." I made off with it anyway. He ate again, but too much. After the rabbit was dealt with I cast him, but he turned down several easy slips. Calling him down with a head, I let him eat. I was disturbed by his actions in the field. Normally he is very placid. My thoughts are that he was too high, and that his crop fills quickly. I left with two rabbits, but rather disappointed. Funny how I can end up winning, taking kills, but still feel like I lost.
*again, my most sincere apologies, this is meant to be literature, I omitted details that were unimportant in many circumstances, and all quotes are approximations.*
As a late addendum, I later found that Mike thought the day was the best he'd seen. -Jason
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