It was with some mixed emotions on this previous weekend of March 19 through the 21st that I traveled to Corpus Christi to return my little desert hawk to his home turf. It was the spring equinox, and we have come full circle. I released Cimarron within the mile that I had trapped him. I found it curious that the spot I had selected was overwatched by what I believe is a wild merlin. It was a small falcon, no doubt, but not a kestrel, and much too small to be a peregrine or prairie falcon. It was a somewhat gloomy morning, so the picture I took is not very clear. The little falcon allowed me to get fairly close to it to take the picture, but my camera just isn't able to take clear photographs beyond a certain distance. It stayed where it was perched the entire time I was there saying 'good bye' and releasing my bird.
This blog was created to mark a new phase of my life . . . and I am about to turn the pages into a new chapter. In about a month and a half I will end my exile in Abilene, returning up north to get married, to start a new job, and a new life. I came back to Texas for two reasons. First, and foremost, to be near my parents, and assist to relocate them from El Paso to Ft Worth. I was looking forward to spending more time with them, especially my mother. Unfortunately, while doing this, my mother passed away, and the time I wanted to spend with her did not manifest. The opportunity has allowed me to spend more time with my father, which has been good. The second reason was to take a first job in my new career field and to gain experience. My time here at the hospital in Abilene has been good, and the work flow and people have taught me many valuable lessons that can only be gained through experience. My career would benefit from more time here . . . . but I am lonely in Abilene, and long for this isolation to end. I have walked alone for going on five years now. Abilene has done little to entice me to stay. I am making more pay now than I have ever during any time of my life, but money doesn't feed the soul . . . at least not mine. There is a life, and a family, and a man up north who wait for and encourage my return. I am following the call early.
Minnesota is no place for a little desert hawk unless you have a very well built and insulated mews. I also feel some compassion for this little social hawk and the separation he has experienced these last few months from his own kind. During a weekend visit to Hobbs, NM I flew him in an area where wild Harris Hawks live, and came near to observe us. For the first time my little hawk made noises I have never heard escape his breast . . . . sounding almost longing, curious, entreating. This planted the seed to my realizing that if I took him with me up north he may be separated from his kind forever. At this time I have no plans to acquire another HH and know no other falconers up north who have one. To keep one bird alone may be a cruelty to him. Call it anthropomorphising the situation, but my isolation in Abilene allows me to feel compassion for his isolation from his own kind. Also because of certain organizational obstacles to relocate both myself and the hawk to Minnesota, I decided it would be best to return him to the wild to resume his life. We can do that with 'passage' birds. The training we place upon them is only temporary. Feed them up, and they revert to their wild nature. I have observed this in Cimarron the last couple weeks, as the warming weather has brought our hunting to an end. He brought 19 pack rats to the game bag . . . a good enough total for my first year with him, and a slow start as we figured out what to hunt.
Texas is blooming around and South of San Antonio. I shall make a post after this to share the pretty flowers springtime has brought to the desert. I traveled to and arrived at Malaquite Beach on North Padre Island on Friday late afternoon. Unlike last October, the campground was crowded. There was but one spot left that I claimed. Also unlike last October the wind off the ocean was much too great to set up my tent. I tried, but failed. In desperation, and it getting dark, I shifted some of my cargo onto the picnic bench beside my truck, and made a nest for myself in the back of the truck. Surprisingly, I was actually quite comfortable and slept well. The wind blew outside, but it was not a cold wind, and I was protected by the bed of the truck, though I left the back hatch open. The following morning I awoke around 6 or so, it still being dark, and made my way to the restroom facilities. A great dark sky filled with stars and the arch of the Milky Way stretched overhead. Beautiful! I have not seen the dark sky much in Abilene. All too soon clouds made their way in and covered the sky, heralding the thunder storms that blanketed the area the entire morning. I walked the beach, but today it did not hold the wonder and fascination that it often does. Great groves of sea weed have washed up over the windy night, and there were no shells to be found, unlike last October where they littered the beach. It is easy to see why mariners often refer to the ocean as a woman. So many moods, and you never know which one you will meet on any given day. I decided after my task was done in Corpus I would leave the area and camp someplace different that night.
The actual release was rather uneventful. I chose my location mere blocks from where I had trapped him, but a much more secluded park-like location. I looked, and hoped to see other Harris Hawks, like last October, but other than the little merlin, and Cimarron, saw no other raptors in the area. I opened his box and removed all his gear, then took his picture "naked". Pulling him from the box I let him fly to one of the trees. I then moved away from my truck and called him to the fist for some food. His increasing weight over the last couple weeks, as I have been fattening him up preparing for his release, caused his reaction to be slow, but he eventually came. I then cropped him up with his last meal from me. So large his last meal, he actually stepped away from it, not being able to stuff another morsel into his crop. I then called him to the fist and let him sit for awhile, until by his own choice he flew to a nearby bare tree.
At this time he gathered the attention of a pair of mockingbirds, who most likely are nest building in the area. They were very unhappy about this raptor in their neighborhood. They proceeded to alarm call and mob him some. For his part, Cimarron just moved over to a thicker tree, where they continued their activities to encourge him to move off.
Here they both are . . . . Mockingbird butts!
This was my final view of my very nice little Harris Hawk. He probably sat there for a good portion of the day, content to put over his large crop of food. I released him in the range where he was trapped. Is his family clan still in the area? Can he rejoin them? Could he join another Harris Hawk group? These are all questions I will never have an answer to. He allowed me several enjoyable months with him. I am sad to let him go, but think it is the best decision. There are many red-tailed hawks even now beginning to nest up north, and from their offspring I will take a new hunting partner this next winter.
As I write this, the house here in Abilene seems strangely quiet now. There are no animals here to take care of. Until recently there was the hawk, the rat that I used to trap with, and a couple quail I purchased to try and train him to quail . . . which never happened. All have found new homes . . . the rat with a young girl, and the others a place in the wild. There is a mild melancholy, but nothing too serious. I am excited about the upcoming changes, and must be busy about the business of making all the arrangements. I will see spring come to a certain farm in Minnesota, and start a new life with a wonderful man, witnessed among his relatives in Norway.
Sometimes you must let go of things for other things to occur. At this time in my life I felt it best to let this wonderful little hawk go. I wish him well, and hope the best for him. Ultimately, I will never know.
It's Mother's Day - and in the spirit of something different, I'll give a window onto another kind of mothering. Tomorrow I marry into the Hanson family. This past week Rich and one of his brothers helped to relocate the rest of my worldly possessions, which are now mostly tucked away into one of three storage sheds. The Hanson farm raises beef cattle, and grows crops to feed them, and to sell. On the first full day here I got to witness the above calf being born. This was his mother's first calf, she at the time being called a 'heifer', and she is not completely full grown, so she had some difficulty bringing the baby into the world. Cletus, Rich's father, and one of his brothers, Al, had to assist by pulling the little calf into the world via chains looped around his hoofs. When we arrived two little hoofs were projecting out of the womb, and a little nose with a tongue stuck out. It was a struggle, but he survived. This all happened at dusk, and it is just as well that one of Rich's brothers noticed, as otherwise in the night both calf and cow may have been lost due to the difficult birth. The decision was made to isolate the two together, because the mother, who is now called a cow, was a bit spooked by the whole process, and she wasn't sniffing or licking her calf. She herself had been hand raised, as they do have another cow on the farm who produces and cares for very fine calves, but for some reason, her milk does not come down into her udders, so she can't feed them. They were left together in one of the isolation pens in the barn, and the mother cow was making mother moos (so the brothers tell me). The next morning the little calf was licked clean, dry, and was standing and nursing.
The above calf is this year's hand fed baby. His mother is known as "The Twin". I don't know if it has gotten a name yet. Most of the cows that get names are usually the hand-fed ones. The cow with the plumbing problem in her udders has been producing calves for several years. He gets a milk solution out of a bucket twice a day . . . and he is at the gate, or comes quickly, when you arrive to feed him.
I walked out into the pasture today while the brothers were doing morning feeding chores. Rich works on the weekends. There are some 30 cows, give or take. They time the season that they allow the bull in with the cows so the calves are born in the spring. The cows are kept in a nursery pasture right next to the house so they can be watched, as sometimes they need help delivering their calves. Once most of the calves are delivered, and as the hay supplies harvested the previous year begin to get low, the cows are released into the patures to graze away happily all summer long.
The cows are mostly docile, and don't mind people walking among them. They were a bit alarmed by the presence of a new dog, Puddin, my mother and father's pom mix who has come with me to live in Minnesota. She is having a blast on the farm . . . but the cows are not sure what to make of her.
She came out with me as I walked in the pasture with the cows, but unfortunately she stirred up the only wildish cow in the group . . . named "Spot" . . . who bellared out her displeasure, and alarmed the rest of the cows who responded and tried to stomp the little dog. Fortunately, Puddin figured out her danger, and she ran as fast as she could, with a couple cows in pursuit, across the field and out the gate. OK . . .don't let the pom out with the cows!
I left with her, going around the other way. I then circled back along the outside of the fence and got the rest of the pictures of the calves and cows.
There are lots of very cute calves . . . . the farm's future producers, or meat animals. It pays to be female in a herd like this . . . but that doesn't always guarantee you a safe place to live. If you don't take care of your calf you'll find yourself at the meat locker.
The farm also has barn cats, with a current crop of kittens. I have no idea who is the mom to this kitten, but he's cute.
And here is Puddin! Though this is not a sharp image, it captures her movement and her excitement as she was hopping through deep and wet grass. She is enjoying the farm. She still keeps trying to challenge the other farm dog here, a husky, who out-weighs her by about 5 to 6 times. I'll have to watch her around the cows, but perhaps she will be wary of them now. She likes playing with the kittens.
From a farm in Minnesota . . . Happy Mother's Day!
