My father had a friend who was a falconer. My son, Colin, my father, and my brother (all now passed away) went to a little scrub field, maybe an acre or two in size, in a town 10-15 miles away. The bird was a red tailed hawk, same as the picture above. The bird had a jess (a leather strap) with a couple of bells around its leg.
When we got to the field, the falconer lifted the bird up from his forearm into the air, and the bird took off and landed in the top of the tallest tree in the field.
We then proceeded to walk the field through the weeds and bushes until we kicked up a rabbit. The hawk from the top of the tree swooped down, the little bells on the jess ringing, letting us follow the sound to the bird. The hawk's talons had pierced the rabbit's sides, killing it instantly.
The falconer then twisted off the rabbit's head, and gave it to the red tailed hawk, which ate it crunch crunch crunch like an apple. He kept the remainder of the rabbit, to freeze, and feed the hawk at intervals during times when they didn't go hunting together.
At one point my son Colin who was five years old, walked under the tree where the red tailed hawk was perched. The hawk seeing my son's head and hair, somehow mistook him for game, and swooped down landing eye level on my son's chest, during which one of the bird's talons had cut my son's ear, which was bleeding pretty good. The bird was looking Colin full in the face.
Kind of scary, we didn't know what the bird was going to do next.
My brother Matt, being several steps closer to my son, than I, did like a karate kick knocking the bird off Colin's chest. Colin was crying pretty good at the pain, and surprise of the bird attack. My brother and I told Colin what a cool sexy scar to have. . . to be able to tell the girls, "Yeah, that's where I was attacked by a hawk."
Anyway cool memory of my father, my brother, and my son. . .
I love you Lord. .
Thank you my God. . .
❤
Dave
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