#54-58; All's well that ends well
2/10: 408 g. I got back from the conference and picked Pele up at Heath's place, and took her out to fly shortly after. She uses the same "word" for Heath as she does for my roommate. It's like the word for people she recognizes but is not comfortable with entirely, kind of a quiet little "kwak-kwak" like her louder duck-like alarm call. Apparently she was very vocal while at his place, constantly yelling about something that was outside, and I think she banged herself up a bit in his mews because she has some sore patches on the bottoms of her feet that I'm now having to treat. She's a crazy little thing. Anyway, we went out to FP3 that afternoon despite the rain, and ended up catching a sparrow and an incidental Marsh Wren, oops. I have never seen one in that field, and my bird guide tells me it's a migrant at this time of year - so either their winter range has expanded northward, or it is truly migrating very early. This one made the mistake of flying up a few inches and got grabbed. Poor thing. #54-55
2/11: 408 g. Very windy, and quite cold. We flew at Fox field, which was flooded more than I usually see it, and that plus the wind made it hard to find much. Pele chased a bunny, but it made it to the blackberries before she did. She ended up catching two sparrows, one a cool twisting flight over and then into the grass as she did a great job of following it closely despite its attempts to hide from her. Wish I'd had it on video for you guys. #56-57
2/12: 412 g. Today was a perfectly calm, clear day - 35 F feels remarkably warm when there's sun and no wind, for once. It was the perfect kind of day to introduce Pele to a new species to hunt. I teamed up with Heath and went out to a farm West of town that consistently has coots and ducks in the ditches surrounding its fields. We quickly spotted a couple of coots, but Pele wasn't having any of it. Despite knowing Heath somewhat (and certainly recognizing his voice as "the food voice" while hooded in the car), she wasn't eager to go anywhere with him close by, and promptly flew herself up to sit on top of a power pole. Heath had to go walk away back toward the car before she would come down to the lure. With him following behind us at a distance, he kept an eye on the coots in the ditch while Pele and I walked in the ditch on the other side of the road so we could keep out of sight.
Yep, this is what hawking in Arkansas looks like. Super glamorous.
There were two coots opposite us, and one got startled and flushed backward, into a bunch of cattails on my side of the road but several hundred yards away. The other disappeared into the bank on the near side. Having lost sight of it, Pele and I crossed the road and walked along the edge, hoping it would flush close. At this point, a car drove past, saw my car pulled over, and Heath walking down the road, and thought we were stranded. I could overhear him explaining what was going on, and so they too pulled over and got out of the car to watch. I continued down the bank, meanwhile, and a few steps later, out flushed the coot, right at our feet. It took off down the length of the ditch, with Pele powering right behind it, and she grabbed it over a frozen section, where it was unable to escape back into the water. She towed it to the bank, and enjoyed her first-ever coot dinner. Eventually she had eaten up a little bit, and we walked over to introduce her to her audience.
That's one happy hawk, there. She looks remarkably content considering she's just feet away from several people she doesn't know.
Hooded, so we could get a shot of her with her "trophy". So much better than deer hunters posing with the buck they shot, am I right?
At 420 g, that coot weighs basically the same as Pele. Pretty cool! Unlike the rabbits, I have no interest in eating coot. She's welcome to it, haha. We did eventually double back to see if we could grab the other coot that had disappeared into the reeds. Pele sat in a tree at one end of the ditch, while Heath and I started at the other end and flushed it toward her. Had she been on my fist I think she would have grabbed it, but instead she passed up a perfect slip and it flew right past her - partly because she isn't used to that style of hunting, and partly because doing so would mean flying out into the open and landing on the road. It also looked to me like she was beginning to lose interest in the whole thing, so I let her finish there. One coot was enough to make me perfectly happy. #58
2/13: 412 g. I wanted to get back out to Crane Farm to try coots again while the weather is cold, because the ice certainly worked to our advantage yesterday. Today it did not. We found a coot paddling around in a slightly wider ditch which was covered on one side by a bunch of weedy shrubs. We were able to walk along the shrubby side so that it didn't see us. As I walked up on it, it flushed, and Pele bolted down and nailed it. Unfortunately, she grabbed it in the water, about three feet away from the bank, and when she tried to swim to the bank, she chose the far side, which had a thin layer of ice extending out from it, and as she tried to drag the coot up onto the ice, it broke underneath her. Luckily the coot wasn't struggling at all, but Pele was soaking wet, and that water had to be extremely cold. I knew I had to get across to help her out and get her out of the water, but there was no easy access to the other side. Time to ford the freezing cold water. It was waist high, and extremely icy, but I made it across and ran over to her. By that time she had let go of the coot, which swam away, and pulled herself up to the top of the bank. She was chilled to the point of near-hypothermia, so I picked her up and stuffed her inside my jacket and sat with her for a while. She was awake enough to foot me a good few times in the side, haha, but definitely shivering. I walked back across the water with her and got her into the car, and we sat with the engine running and the vent blowing air as hot as I could get it for about half an hour, until her feathers were dried out and she didn't seem to be shivering anymore. Once we got home, I soaked some quail in some warm water and she gulped that right down. Little bird really scared me for a while there, so while we did not get our coot, I'm just glad she came home safe and sound.
That coot, by the way, was still out there paddling around afterward, but it clearly had one useless injured leg. I tried to go run back out and get it before we left, just to uphold my end of the deal and put it out of its misery, but even crippled it could swim faster than I could walk along the bank. Either it will end up okay, or it will be food for some other hungry hawk. Such is life, I suppose.
2/11: 408 g. Very windy, and quite cold. We flew at Fox field, which was flooded more than I usually see it, and that plus the wind made it hard to find much. Pele chased a bunny, but it made it to the blackberries before she did. She ended up catching two sparrows, one a cool twisting flight over and then into the grass as she did a great job of following it closely despite its attempts to hide from her. Wish I'd had it on video for you guys. #56-57
2/12: 412 g. Today was a perfectly calm, clear day - 35 F feels remarkably warm when there's sun and no wind, for once. It was the perfect kind of day to introduce Pele to a new species to hunt. I teamed up with Heath and went out to a farm West of town that consistently has coots and ducks in the ditches surrounding its fields. We quickly spotted a couple of coots, but Pele wasn't having any of it. Despite knowing Heath somewhat (and certainly recognizing his voice as "the food voice" while hooded in the car), she wasn't eager to go anywhere with him close by, and promptly flew herself up to sit on top of a power pole. Heath had to go walk away back toward the car before she would come down to the lure. With him following behind us at a distance, he kept an eye on the coots in the ditch while Pele and I walked in the ditch on the other side of the road so we could keep out of sight.
Yep, this is what hawking in Arkansas looks like. Super glamorous.
There were two coots opposite us, and one got startled and flushed backward, into a bunch of cattails on my side of the road but several hundred yards away. The other disappeared into the bank on the near side. Having lost sight of it, Pele and I crossed the road and walked along the edge, hoping it would flush close. At this point, a car drove past, saw my car pulled over, and Heath walking down the road, and thought we were stranded. I could overhear him explaining what was going on, and so they too pulled over and got out of the car to watch. I continued down the bank, meanwhile, and a few steps later, out flushed the coot, right at our feet. It took off down the length of the ditch, with Pele powering right behind it, and she grabbed it over a frozen section, where it was unable to escape back into the water. She towed it to the bank, and enjoyed her first-ever coot dinner. Eventually she had eaten up a little bit, and we walked over to introduce her to her audience.
That's one happy hawk, there. She looks remarkably content considering she's just feet away from several people she doesn't know.
Hooded, so we could get a shot of her with her "trophy". So much better than deer hunters posing with the buck they shot, am I right?
At 420 g, that coot weighs basically the same as Pele. Pretty cool! Unlike the rabbits, I have no interest in eating coot. She's welcome to it, haha. We did eventually double back to see if we could grab the other coot that had disappeared into the reeds. Pele sat in a tree at one end of the ditch, while Heath and I started at the other end and flushed it toward her. Had she been on my fist I think she would have grabbed it, but instead she passed up a perfect slip and it flew right past her - partly because she isn't used to that style of hunting, and partly because doing so would mean flying out into the open and landing on the road. It also looked to me like she was beginning to lose interest in the whole thing, so I let her finish there. One coot was enough to make me perfectly happy. #58
2/13: 412 g. I wanted to get back out to Crane Farm to try coots again while the weather is cold, because the ice certainly worked to our advantage yesterday. Today it did not. We found a coot paddling around in a slightly wider ditch which was covered on one side by a bunch of weedy shrubs. We were able to walk along the shrubby side so that it didn't see us. As I walked up on it, it flushed, and Pele bolted down and nailed it. Unfortunately, she grabbed it in the water, about three feet away from the bank, and when she tried to swim to the bank, she chose the far side, which had a thin layer of ice extending out from it, and as she tried to drag the coot up onto the ice, it broke underneath her. Luckily the coot wasn't struggling at all, but Pele was soaking wet, and that water had to be extremely cold. I knew I had to get across to help her out and get her out of the water, but there was no easy access to the other side. Time to ford the freezing cold water. It was waist high, and extremely icy, but I made it across and ran over to her. By that time she had let go of the coot, which swam away, and pulled herself up to the top of the bank. She was chilled to the point of near-hypothermia, so I picked her up and stuffed her inside my jacket and sat with her for a while. She was awake enough to foot me a good few times in the side, haha, but definitely shivering. I walked back across the water with her and got her into the car, and we sat with the engine running and the vent blowing air as hot as I could get it for about half an hour, until her feathers were dried out and she didn't seem to be shivering anymore. Once we got home, I soaked some quail in some warm water and she gulped that right down. Little bird really scared me for a while there, so while we did not get our coot, I'm just glad she came home safe and sound.
That coot, by the way, was still out there paddling around afterward, but it clearly had one useless injured leg. I tried to go run back out and get it before we left, just to uphold my end of the deal and put it out of its misery, but even crippled it could swim faster than I could walk along the bank. Either it will end up okay, or it will be food for some other hungry hawk. Such is life, I suppose.