In Game: at Fordham
Posted: Tue Jan 16, 2024 11:24 am
Chapter 13 of The Falconry Chronicles: Roxanne and the Great-Horned Owl
Redtail hawks and owls, particularly the larger species such as Barred owls and Great-Horned Owls, are natural enemies, an enmity born from hundreds of millennia of conflict in the natural world. Their paths intersect infrequently, but when they do, it can be deadly. Redtails will occasionally cross paths with the great owls when hunting late in the day or early in the morning when the owls may still be active; the owls, with their superior night vision, will attack and make a meal of a full-grown Redtail if they encounter them while the RT is asleep on its roosting perch. I once found a pile of Redtail feathers at the base of a giant tulip poplar; it signaled the demise of the RT when an owl discovered it asleep and vulnerable during the night.
Likewise, if the Redtail spies one of the great owls out and about during the daytime, it will chase and try to devour the owl if it gets half a chance. Roxanne once chased a Great-Horned owl for quite a distance and forced me to use my "insurance policy," the fully-baited lure, to call her back to me before she flew completely out of range.
Our only other owl encounter occurred on a late October afternoon in about Roxanne's third season with me. Although the falconry season begins on October 15 each year, climate change has forced many falconers who fly Redtails to wait until the trees have dropped their leaves in late November so their birds have an easier time locating the squirrels amidst the branches. Nevertheless, Roxanne was ready and her weight was dialed in at that sweet spot where she would be keen to pursue a wayward squirrel. Besides, we might get lucky and come across a rabbit at this hunting spot.
But it was not to be; no squirrels were out and about, and Roxanne started to get frustrated and bored. We approached a small clearing in the woods -- a pasture of a couple of acres, with a briar thicket at the far end. Roxy suddenly left her perch behind me and made a beeline across the clearing, then dove onto something in the back of the thicket, below my line of sight. I immediately thought, "Rabbit!" and hustled across. I could hear her bells jangling, so I figured she'd ambushed something. Imagine my shock and surprise when I came upon this scene: Roxy on the ground, tap-dancing atop a massive Great-Horned owl twice her size. She had one of her feet buried in the owl's breast feathers and the other firmly planted on the owl's face, her talons perilously close to those great luminous yellow eyes. The owl had both of its feet embedded in her chest and was barely holding her off, despite being so much larger.
It was a classic stand-off. I thought, "Holy sh**, now what do I do?" No one within miles could help me, and the situation could change at any second. I obviously didn't want my precious Roxanne to get injured, but I also felt some sympathy for the owl, which had been minding its own business the minute before. I had to try and separate them, but how? I knelt down beside them. The owl started making an unnerving clacking sound with its beak, an obvious warning for me to back off. Ignoring the warning, I took off my falconry glove and began to prise Roxy's talons loose from the owl's face. But each time I got one of her feet free and set to work on the other, she would take the freed foot and reattach it to the owl's head. I was getting nowhere, but I felt I had no other options, so I leaned in closer, with the owl continuing to clack-clack-clack away. At one point, I once again freed Roxy's foot from the owl's head, but it suddenly lunged forward and bit me on the ear. Blood started to spurt from the tear, dripping everywhere.
I sat back, caught my breath, and pulled a bandana handkerchief from my pants pocket to dab at my bloody ear. But it gave me an idea and I began to hatch the only plan I could come up with. I took my falconry glove, made sure Roxy's leather jesses were attached to the glove, and slipped the glove over her head. Deprived of her sight, she instantly relaxed her grip and let go of the owl. I then took the bloody handkerchief and draped it over the owl's head; it too, let go of Roxanne. They were finally separated! I shakily got her head out of my glove, put it on my hand, and got her under control with my fist. I then snatched the bandana off the owl. It lay there on the ground, dazed and blinking, but eventually sat up. I could tell its face wasn't injured, and it waddled off like a penguin, eventually taking flight when it was about ten feet away from us. The last I saw of it, it was winging away through the trees.
Roxanne was covered in blood, but after a thorough exam, it proved to be drops of my own blood and I could see no harm to her whatsoever. Raptors have several layers of feathers covering their breast muscles, and apparently, neither bird's sets of talons had penetrated the feathers to reach vulnerable flesh. She was exhausted, as was I, and we slowly made the long walk back to the car and home. I was too tired to make yet another trip to the local ER, but my ears must be surprisingly resilient. I was healed up and haired over in about a week.
Next time, The Lazarus Squirrel.
Until then, GO CATS!
Redtail hawks and owls, particularly the larger species such as Barred owls and Great-Horned Owls, are natural enemies, an enmity born from hundreds of millennia of conflict in the natural world. Their paths intersect infrequently, but when they do, it can be deadly. Redtails will occasionally cross paths with the great owls when hunting late in the day or early in the morning when the owls may still be active; the owls, with their superior night vision, will attack and make a meal of a full-grown Redtail if they encounter them while the RT is asleep on its roosting perch. I once found a pile of Redtail feathers at the base of a giant tulip poplar; it signaled the demise of the RT when an owl discovered it asleep and vulnerable during the night.
Likewise, if the Redtail spies one of the great owls out and about during the daytime, it will chase and try to devour the owl if it gets half a chance. Roxanne once chased a Great-Horned owl for quite a distance and forced me to use my "insurance policy," the fully-baited lure, to call her back to me before she flew completely out of range.
Our only other owl encounter occurred on a late October afternoon in about Roxanne's third season with me. Although the falconry season begins on October 15 each year, climate change has forced many falconers who fly Redtails to wait until the trees have dropped their leaves in late November so their birds have an easier time locating the squirrels amidst the branches. Nevertheless, Roxanne was ready and her weight was dialed in at that sweet spot where she would be keen to pursue a wayward squirrel. Besides, we might get lucky and come across a rabbit at this hunting spot.
But it was not to be; no squirrels were out and about, and Roxanne started to get frustrated and bored. We approached a small clearing in the woods -- a pasture of a couple of acres, with a briar thicket at the far end. Roxy suddenly left her perch behind me and made a beeline across the clearing, then dove onto something in the back of the thicket, below my line of sight. I immediately thought, "Rabbit!" and hustled across. I could hear her bells jangling, so I figured she'd ambushed something. Imagine my shock and surprise when I came upon this scene: Roxy on the ground, tap-dancing atop a massive Great-Horned owl twice her size. She had one of her feet buried in the owl's breast feathers and the other firmly planted on the owl's face, her talons perilously close to those great luminous yellow eyes. The owl had both of its feet embedded in her chest and was barely holding her off, despite being so much larger.
It was a classic stand-off. I thought, "Holy sh**, now what do I do?" No one within miles could help me, and the situation could change at any second. I obviously didn't want my precious Roxanne to get injured, but I also felt some sympathy for the owl, which had been minding its own business the minute before. I had to try and separate them, but how? I knelt down beside them. The owl started making an unnerving clacking sound with its beak, an obvious warning for me to back off. Ignoring the warning, I took off my falconry glove and began to prise Roxy's talons loose from the owl's face. But each time I got one of her feet free and set to work on the other, she would take the freed foot and reattach it to the owl's head. I was getting nowhere, but I felt I had no other options, so I leaned in closer, with the owl continuing to clack-clack-clack away. At one point, I once again freed Roxy's foot from the owl's head, but it suddenly lunged forward and bit me on the ear. Blood started to spurt from the tear, dripping everywhere.
I sat back, caught my breath, and pulled a bandana handkerchief from my pants pocket to dab at my bloody ear. But it gave me an idea and I began to hatch the only plan I could come up with. I took my falconry glove, made sure Roxy's leather jesses were attached to the glove, and slipped the glove over her head. Deprived of her sight, she instantly relaxed her grip and let go of the owl. I then took the bloody handkerchief and draped it over the owl's head; it too, let go of Roxanne. They were finally separated! I shakily got her head out of my glove, put it on my hand, and got her under control with my fist. I then snatched the bandana off the owl. It lay there on the ground, dazed and blinking, but eventually sat up. I could tell its face wasn't injured, and it waddled off like a penguin, eventually taking flight when it was about ten feet away from us. The last I saw of it, it was winging away through the trees.
Roxanne was covered in blood, but after a thorough exam, it proved to be drops of my own blood and I could see no harm to her whatsoever. Raptors have several layers of feathers covering their breast muscles, and apparently, neither bird's sets of talons had penetrated the feathers to reach vulnerable flesh. She was exhausted, as was I, and we slowly made the long walk back to the car and home. I was too tired to make yet another trip to the local ER, but my ears must be surprisingly resilient. I was healed up and haired over in about a week.
Next time, The Lazarus Squirrel.
Until then, GO CATS!