A Hawks Flight.......Tails From Camp

new to the flock · December 5, 2007

Well the day finally came for my best hunting buddy Quinn and myself. We had after many a late night conversation about the Royal Art Of Hawking taken the plundge. It came about by chance, having been out and about scouting for the perfect rabbit hunting bush, we came across a wonderful man with a hawk on his fist..........we really didn't want to ask him about the red bleeding lines running down the side of his face, or the blood pooled upon his vest, figuring that he had fallen in the berry canes and did not want to embarass him.

This gentleman of the world confirmed to us that yes indeed there were many rabbits in the rough berry canes and shrubs and that yes indeed he had been out hawking for them. We had a lovely discussion about the art of flying hawks and catching bunnies the way they were meant to be. It was then that my best hunting buddy Quinn perked up and mentioned that we were about to embark on that same sacred journey ourselves, and that we were just waiting for the right bird to come along.

This comment brought a look of glee to the hawkers face.....either that or it was releaf as the hawk pulled the last of its talons from the mans fist. It really is amazing how blood can pool in the snow.........This man of the art did not hesitate in taking us under his wing, explaining all the in and outs of the sport and asking if we were really ready to begin. Quinn and I both nodded anxiously confirming our need to join in the ranks of Kings. The Hawker, that is what Quinn my best hunting buddy and I call him as he had forgotton to give us his name, or any other contact details, then told us that he was about to be leaving the country on an extented bussiness trip and was looking for two eager gentleman ......he really did not know Quinn......such as ourselves to take over the care and flying of his supurb bird.

Well as The Hawkers face paled .........I am beginning to wonder if it was from the blood lose, as an ample pool had collected in the snow......Quinn and I pooled our money between us and became the proud owners of a .....hawk. Our dream was coming true, and with a wave of his now ungloved......and considerably scarred hand the Hawker departed leaving Quinn my best hunting buddy, and myself with a hooded hawk on the fist.

It was decided that Quinn would tromp ahead and try to flush a bunny while I followed behind with the now unhooded hawk.....who was looking very menacely into my eye......and release it when one bolted.

Things were going well to plan....well other than this wet feeling inside the glove and the vice like squeeze on that hand. I put these down to the new leather and the fact that I had a HAWK on my fist. If I had turned around and looked I would have noticed that we did not have to worry about getting lost on the way out as we had a wonderful red trail to follow back to the truck. All at once Quinn, my best hunting buddy, yells bunny away, just at that point I stumbled on the vines wrapped around my feet and the Hawk being startled reached out to steady himself.......I am sure it was a mistake but he steadied himself on the side of my face, but once settled he let go flying after the rabbit.

A special note here.....did I mention that Quinn, my best hunting buddy always liked to wear his lucky rabbit hunting hat when bunny bashing. This is a rabbit fur hat that a very clever taxidermist made with ears sticking up at the front and a white tail on the back..........Well the Hawk made a beline for the rabbit, not the one running away through the brambles but the one on Quinn, my best hunting buddies head. Quinn never had a chance the bird stooped on his head and burried his talons for the kill. Unfortunately that kill was in Quinns scalp.

I really wanted to help him, but on the release of the Hawk, did I mention we had decided to name him Slayer, I had raised my gloved hand and found myself standing in a growing pool of crimson and feeling very weak and light headed. The next thing I knew there was Quinn, my very best hunting buddy, standing over me with red lines of blood flowing over his face. It seems that Slayer finally pulled the bunny from Quinns head and had flown away with it. As the pool of red warm crimson was growing under us we decided it would be best to return to the truck and seek medical attention.

We managed to drive to the local hospital where upon entering the nurse .....who was pocketing $20.00 dollars from another, who was shaking her head.......called out that she was expecting us, having been described by a gentleman of the world earlier who was in for stitches to his face and hand. Seems she had the forums already filled out for us and had Doc waiting with the sutter material. Well after several spools of thread between us Quinn, my best hunting buddy and myself were released to go and retrieve our prize hawk, with a promise that we would call ahead before heading out on the next hunting foray of Kings...........

But that is another Tail From Camp.

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Highlander · December 5, 2007

Sounds to me like you met a gypsy who'd just caught that hawk in a trap. Typical old country trick usually played upon two old duffers out in the bush! :rolleyes: