In Game: vs. Dayton

[raptorcat]

Chapter 10 of The Falconry Chronicles: The Short Happy Life of "Julius Rousseau"

After releasing Fiona on Davidson's campus, I had a few months before the next trapping season opened on Labor Day. I knew I wanted to stick with Redtails as a species to hunt with, but I dithered back and forth about whether I wanted an aggressive little male like my sponsor Larry's Beauregard, or try to trap a larger, sedate female like Fiona. The decision was made for me when a nearby falconer contacted me in early September and said he'd trapped a juvenile male but had decided not to keep him after successfully trapping a larger bird. He even said he'd deliver the hawk to me, so I took this path of least resistance and in a few days, I was the proud possessor of my second bird. I named him after a recently retired Superior Court judge from Wilkes County, Julius Rousseau. I'd idolized him as a young attorney and appeared in front of him frequently. He was stern and forbidding, but always fair. It seems that every trial attorney and bailiff had a Rousseau story, and an oft-told one I'd heard was about when he'd arrived to hold court in some county, only to learn that they didn't have a courtroom available for him due to a scheduling snafu. He remarked, "The hawk flies to and fro, with nary a place to land." After that, many took to calling him "the Hawk," and so it only seemed fitting to name my bird after him.

Training proceeded apace, with Rousseau proving to be a quick learner. I soon had him flying back in forth to me in the mews and it wouldn't be long before he'd be ready to begin his creance training. But then a near-disaster struck: due to negligence born from overconfidence on my part, he escaped. I was still keeping him in his travel box (the "giant hood") in the anteroom to his mews. When I took him out to put him in the mews for the next training session, I failed to shut the outer door completely and he surged out of my hands and flew out into the wide world. I had prided myself on being vigilant in thinking ahead, running through every scenario that could possibly go wrong, but I had neglected to close the damn door!

Rousseau flew to a nearby tree in my neighbor's yard and no amount of entreaties from me could persuade him to return to my glove. I tried to follow him but he eventually flew out of my sight. I was crestfallen; there was nothing I could do but put out the word to our informal network of falconers, the Wildlife Commission, and the local animal control officers with the police department. Within a day, I received a call from a falconer in Winston-Salem who had in turn gotten a call from someone in High Point about a hawk sitting on the side of a busy street near my home. He had collected the hawk and had it waiting for me. I hustled over to Winston and retrieved Rousseau, still with his leather jesses attached. He appeared none the worse for wear, even though the finder said he thought the hawk had had a bush with a passing car.

I was chastened by that close call, but we quickly resumed our training. Yet something seemed off. Rousseau lacked the energy and quick response times that he'd previously shown, and his always-ravenous appetite began to diminish. Within a matter of days, he refused tidbits of meat entirely and his breathing became labored. I called Jennifre McConnell, a falconer vet in nearby Rockingham County, who agreed to let me bring Rousseau to her home one evening. He was so listless that he didn't resist her gentle probing, which revealed a razor-sharp keel bone, a sure sign of being underweight. His breath had also taken on an acrid, sour smell, indicative of a malady loosely termed "sour crop." She also suspected aspergillosis, a fungal infection in the lungs of birds that can often lie dormant, only to become virulent in times when the bird is stressed. She suggested a course of antibiotic treatment that would cover both diseases and said time would tell. I told her I'd return in a few days to see how the patient was doing.

Upon my return, Rousseau was no better; in fact, he was now barely able to remain upright. With a heavy heart, I quickly agreed with her suggestion to
euthanize him. She said she'd perform an autopsy to confirm her diagnostic impressions; the results showed he had indeed contracted aspergillosis and his lungs were filled with lesions. She could find no physical injuries but suggested his brief escape had been a stressful event that triggered the asper.
I was devastated; not only did I feel that my one moment of inattentiveness had brought about this cascade of events that culminated in Rousseau's demise, but it was now late September and my window for trapping a juvenile hawk to have ready for the upcoming falconry season was rapidly closing.

But then, serendipity arrived in the form of a phone call from Jennifre a week later. She had trapped a pretty young Redtail near her house; although the bird fell in the weight range that made it hard to determine whether it was male or female (raptors are notoriously hard to sex unless an internal exam of its cloaca, the organ used by birds for pooping and copulation, is performed), she said it was probably a female. She'd decided that she realistically did not have the free time to train the bird to get it ready for falconry season, and did I want to come see it?

When I saw this hawk, it was love at first sight. Whereas Fiona was a Brunehilda-type Valkyrie, this bird looked like a supermodel in comparison, with an elegant beak and neck, long body, and nice feet. Jennifre had already treated her to rid her of the ubiquitous parasites and declared her to be in good health. I immediately said yes to this bird; we put her in the travel box and I offered my thanks for giving her to me. On the drive back to High Point, I turned on the local classic rock FM radio station and heard the striking, unmistakable melody of that Police anthem, "Roxanne." She had her name.

Up next: My Five Wonderful Years With Roxanne.

Until then, GO CATS!

[CatsRom]

Go Cats. Going with a big group of friends tonight who haven't been to a game, hope we put on a good show. Shame a good opponent comes to town with students still gone.

Any word if skogman is back in the lineup tonight?

[Steve Rodgers]

Go Cats. Going with a big group of friends tonight who haven't been to a game, hope we put on a good show. Shame a good opponent comes to town with students still gone.

Any word if skogman is back in the lineup tonight?

What is wrong w Skog?

[JCDC]

He parked illegally and got booted

[bobmckellar]

I can't seem to jump through the TV hoops tonight, so I'll just follow yhe DC score site.
I can't seem to get the hang of this computer stuff!

[i77cat]

10-7 deficit at first media break. 13:03. Only 1dunk for Holmes so far, but it was spectacular.

[i77cat]

This looks like the last year to see Jamie Luckie. Something orthopedic is wrong. He's trying, but even if dropped 20 pounds he'd be slow.

[i77cat]

15-7 and a free throw coming at 11:38.

[Dr. Bliss]

We look a little overmatched at this point.

[i77cat]

25-12 at 6:55.

[BaseRich306]

We are so hard to watch.

[catseye]

We are so hard to watch.

Really hard to watch. The number of shots we miss within 5 feet of the basket is astounding.

Refs letting them play. Brizzi fouled before that steal.

[i77cat]

We're on pace for 75-36. It's unlikely to be that bad, but we'll need Dayton to lose interest and dip into the end of the bench.

[i77cat]

32-20 at 3:26.

[Dr. Bliss]

We had a nice little run, but Elvis is in the building.