In Game: at St. Louis

[raptorcat]

Chapter 15 of The Falconry Chronicles (the final chapter): Roxanne Goes Free

As year five of my serendipitous life with Roxanne approached, we were in a groove. She remained beautiful and healthy, in the prime of life, and we understood each other so well that we worked together in the field like a well-oiled machine. Her squirrel-hunting IQ was off the charts, and her exploits amazed me. I vividly recall one instance where we were hunting in woods that contained some derelict farm buildings with the associated detritus of old lumber scattered about, covered in vines and briars. She had forced a bushytail to abandon its comfort zone in the tree canopy and it had bailed, hitting the ground with a thud and running to one of those old lumber piles. It won the race to the cover and so Roxanne checked off and flew to a nearby branch. I could tell she was considering her options, which included giving up altogether and looking for another quarry to hunt. The old Roxanne might have tried to crash the cover from above, which would have meant failure because the squirrel was deep within the tangle. But now, Roxy's next move caught me off-guard. She left her perch above the brush pile and flew deep into the woods on a long arcing flight, giving the brush pile a wide berth. When she grew parallel with the back of the pile, she executed a quick wing-over and dove down on the squirrel, which was ever-so-slightly exposed from that rear angle. A resounding crash, a brief tussle, and the squirrel was hers. I was amazed and awe-struck that she had the foresight to plan her attack with that degree of complexity.

But our outings into the woods and fields of Piedmont had reached an inflection point: my knees had gotten so bad that I needed to have replacement surgery for both joints. I had become so crippled that I was fearful I couldn't get to her in time if some unexpected incident were to occur. My worries were realized when Roxy was accosted by a pair of adult RT's who had paired up at the outset of mating season in February and were aggressively protecting their territory. They attacked her in a tree line atop a small ridge; with my bad knees, it took 'way too long to traverse the small ravine and climb the ridge to scare off the attackers. She could have been severely injured. My knees were letting me down.

I knew the recovery time from successive operations was going to be long and would severely constrict our next hunting season, which would hardly be fair to such a wonderful hunting companion. And as the years progressed in my judicial career, I took on more responsibilities, overseeing many complex civil cases that cut into my ability to sneak out for an afternoon's hunt in the woods. So I made the agonizing decision to part ways with my amazing companion. I would set her free in March, after the hunting season ended.

On a beautiful early spring day in 2009, I took her to our favorite hunting grounds on the outskirts of town about seven miles from my house, an old dairy farm that had been bequeathed to the Piedmont Land Conservancy. It was filled with squirrels, rabbits, and assorted small rodents. More importantly, there were no resident Redtails that would cause problems for her. I fed her a whole squirrel at the edge of a field and removed her leather gauntlets and jesses as she ate, watched her a bit, and walked away, filled with mixed emotions.

One month later: I had cleared out the back of my SUV of all falconry accouterments and closed up my mews. Spring was in full bloom as I returned home from court at dusk. As I lifted the back gate of my SUV to retrieve my briefcase, some movement caught my eye atop a neighbor's beech tree. It was a Redtail, looking as if it were searching for a roosting perch to spend the night. This was unusual, given the time of year. Most RT's were actively raising fledglings and would be roosting in or near their nests. Then the hawk left the beech tree and flew to the mid-level branches of an oak tree directly behind my vehicle, not 40 feet away. A wild bird wouldn't act this way, preferring to keep plenty of distance between itself and humans. I said, "Roxanne, is that you? Have you come for a visit?" Even though I didn't have a glove, I whistled and raised my arm as if inviting the bird to perch on my wrist. The hawk launched from its perch, sailed about ten feet over my head, and continued to fly over my vehicle, over my front yard, sailing over the house, and disappearing into the backyard.

By this time, I had half-convinced myself that Roxy had come back home to say hello. She would have known how to return to the place she had lived the last five years, and the distance from where I released her was nothing for a bird that can soar for hours on end. I hustled into my house and out the back door into the evening gloom, scanning the trees and the roofline of the mews for a glimpse of her. But she had gone. As far as I know, she never returned.

I have kept my falconry license current to this day, and even though I haven't kept a bird for many years, I am considered one of the "senior" falconers in North Carolina. I have served as a sponsor for several falconers, but my most recent apprentice has been a prodigy and I helped him trap a big female that I'd observed along Highway 421 in Wilkes County as I went back and forth from holding court up there. He named his bird Aasira, which roughly translates to "Warrior Princess" in Urdu. She has become a celebrity in our small falconry community, due to the incredible tally of squirrels she has amassed the last three years -- nearly 120 and growing. I get to go on outings with them and bask in the glow of Aasira's success, without having to put in the innumerable hours associated with keeping a hawk. Life is good.

GO CATS!

Up next: a collection of stories and anecdotes from a career on the bench.

[DC69Wildcat]

Thanks, Joe, for an outstanding series of thread starts. I'm sorry we have come to the end, but I've heard some of your adventures on the bench, so I know the next series of thread starts will be just as entertaining. Go Cats!

[MrMac]

Gulp. Thank you, your honor, for giving us a glimpse of a world that most of us would never have experienced. Now, to get something for this lump in my throat.

[ScootCat]

Beautiful stories about your adventures with Roxanne. Thank you sir for sharing.

[raptorcat]

I think I posted some photos of my releasing Roxanne on Davidsoncats.com back in, say 2009 or 2010. If I were more adept at navigating the board's archives, I could probably re-post them. Anyone think they can help?

[MrMac]

Balley sports coverage showed a pre-game shot of a Bronze Billiken outside the St Louis arena. Looks like.a cold Billiken, hope the team follows suit.

[MrMac]

Cats come out cold.

[stan]

Someone please teach 2 how to use a screen. Shoulder to shoulder. Scrape hard.

As much as our guys like to shoot, one would think they'd try to use the screens properly.
==

Reed drives and "misses everything". sigh

[stan]

I haven't seen anyone cut off a screen properly. If someone sees it happen, please let me know.

This is depressing.

[MrMac]

Reed must be doing some other things well, because his current shooting is such a liability. The shots are good; his shooting is just awful. He seems intimidated.

[stan]

That was an AWESOME blocked shot!!

whoa

[DC69Wildcat]

Nice block. Announcer said Bailey. Looked like Logan.

[raptorcat]

I think I saw a cut off a screen. Kochera.

[MrMac]

Conner gets the art of cutting...and Grant, of driving. More of this, please.

[seamac77]

Logan with a block.. announcer credits it to Bailey