I never aspired to be a bird dog. But on a bright winter morning I found myself pushing through the low brush and wiregrass of quail country, intent on flushing quail for two hunters.
The hunters, magnificent Harris hawks whose names were Zorro and Montezuma, sat in a tree over my head, watching four of us traverse the undergrowth. As we worked ahead of them they moved with us, flying from tree to tree. Each time they moved the bells on their legs jingled, letting us know exactly where they were.
Two fruitless hours later, the four of us were worn out and Montezuma and Zorro were still hungry. Kitty Tolson Carroll, a falconer from Bradenton, returned her birds to their mews (specially-designed coops with perches) and we took a break.
Falconry is intertwined with our history, dating back at least 200 years. Until it reached the United States it was a sport of the aristocracy, which led 17th-century British poet William Somerville to call it the "sport of kings," an term by which it is still known.
In this country, however, it's a relatively new phenomenon, going back only to the early part of this century.
"From what I understand," Kitty said, "it started with an article in the December 1920 issue of National Geographic. That sparked the interest of a few teenagers of that time, who became falconers."
Those early American falconers began working with peregrine falcons and goshawks. By the 1960s and 1970s, baby-boomer falconers were experimenting with species such as the Cooper's, Harris, and redtail hawks.
One interesting behavior of the Harris hawk is that it's the only species which hunts in groups.
"In the wild, they may hunt in groups of up to about eight," Kitty said. "I've seen up to 15 Harris hawks hunting at once with their falconers. The best thing to do with Harris hawks is to let them see each other pegged out before they hunt. When you go out into the field there still will be some squabbles, but they establish the dominant hawk who will lead the hunt. Then the others will cooperate by distracting or herding game. They're used mainly for jackrabbits."
Kitty's interest in falconry began when she was 13. She saw a movie called My Side of the Mountain, in which a young boy tames a raccoon and a falcon.
"I didn't know anyone practiced falconry until I got out of high school in 1974," she said. "I met someone who did, and badgered him until he taught me how to become a falconer. That's how most people start--you approach them and you literally badger them with your tenacity."
She said the entire sport is fairly closed. Federal regulations regarding falconry were written with the input of falconers, and designed in such a way to keep out people who don't have a serious commitment to the sport, and a high ethical standard regarding the birds.
Even today, there are relatively few falconers in the US. The total number, Kitty says is about 3,000, of which approximately 20 percent are women.
Though most outdoorsmen and women don't think of falconry as hunting, it nevertheless is, and difficult and demanding hunting at that. Imagine hunting with a weapon which must have water and food every day, 365 days a year. If you're traveling with it you can't leave it; it is far too valuable to be left unsecured, but it can't be locked in a vault where there is no air. I remarked to Kitty that it's a little like having a baby.
"It's worse," she said. "You can't get a baby sitter!"
Kitty calls falconry low-tech hunting, as opposed to high-tech firearms hunting.
"It's not big-game hunting, it's not firearm hunting," she said. "It's very unique because you're using an animal that will actually take the game itself. You get to watch a predator in action, and help that predator. The birds cue on you. I like that cooperation."
Becoming a falconer is not an easy task in itself. Once you find an experienced falconer who is willing to take you on as an apprentice, a labyrinth of permitting requirements is ahead.
First you must survive an exam and an inspection of your facilities and mews for the birds. For the next two years, the novice falconer must train under the sponsor. Then he or she must catch and train a wild hawk or falcon.
Next comes another review. If the apprentice passes, he or she is issued a "general" license. After five more years there's a third review; graduates of this period then qualify for "master" status.
Kitty feels strongly that the requirements for falconers need to remain as stringent as they are now, for the good of both the birds and the sport. She tries, however, to make information about this sovereign sport more accessible to the public whenever she can.
For the past several years she has been participating in Renaissance Fairs around the country, putting on bird of prey shows in recreated Tudor villages. She talks to school classes, birdwatching groups, and other organizations about falconry and raptor conservation. She is in the process of developing a series of falconry seminars and is trying to establish a falconry college for students who are committed to learning the art of falconry.
That afternoon, in an open cow pasture, Kitty released Elvira, a peregrine/prairie falcon cross. Elvira soared and swooped around us, waiting for the partridge she knew Kitty had hidden in her game vest.
With a cry of "Ho! Hawk!" Kitty tossed the partridge into the air. Elvira hit it in mid-air.
Feathers flew. With the partridge firmly in her talons Elvira dropped a few feet, then spread her wings and began to soar again, looking for a place to light and eat.
Unfortunately, her path took her directly through the pines and into a hog-wire fence. At the last second she saw it and veered upward, braking, but her momentum carried her and the partridge into it. She lost her grip on her prey and it escaped through the fence, running madly along the fenceline away from her.
Kitty gently disentangled Elvira from the fence and brought her back out into the sunlight, where the bird treated us to a dramatic display of prairie falcon temperament. She screeched her displeasure at losing her partridge, rising again and again from Kitty's gloved fist to beat the air with her wings. Kitty finally had to put Elvira's hood on her and return her to the mew to quiet her.
Kitty emphasizes that falconry is a hunting sport, and sometimes a very graphic one.
"It is a blood sport in the truest sense of the word," she said. "These birds like to catch things and kill them. It's an act of nature, and we happen to be a witness to it."
For More Information
For more information about falconry, or to schedule Kitty Carroll for a classroom or other falconry demonstration, contact her at:
Accipiter Enterprises
11608 Upper Manatee River Road
Bradenton, FL 34202
941-748-6646
For more information about falconry in general, contact:
North American Falconer's Association
c/o Raptor Center
University of Minnesota
1920 Fitch Avenue
St. Paul, MN 55108
For information about raptor breeding and release programs:
The Peregrine Fund
World Center for Birds of Prey
5666 W. Flying Hawk Lane
Boise, ID 83702
To find information about raptor medical treatment and rehabilitation:
Raptor Center
University of Minnesota
1920 Fitch Avenue
St. Paul, MN 55108
This story will appear as a chapter in Carolee Boyles-Sprenkel's forthcoming book, Women's Guide to Hunting to be published by Countrysport Press in the fall of 1997.
Copyright (c) 1997 Carolee Boyles-Sprenkel. All rights reserved.