Falconry World

It’s been my quest for some time to have a good hunter of magpies. I’ve set larson traps, flown imprint sparrow hawks and now finally I’m catching them with Victor the male Goshawk. Hunting magpies is no easy task as anyone who has tried will vouch. The magpie is very common were I live and with the rise in the wild Sparrowhawk and the increase of magpies and decline in suitable habitat the grey partridge is in a spiralling decline. Before I went to the British Falconers Club meeting a couple of weeks ago at Norton Hall, myself Simon Higham and Ryan slipped my Gos from the car to successfully nail a magpie. Since returning from the BFC field meeting I’ve been really busy with Marshall Radio Telemetry and I’ve been kite-flying Ivor the Gyr to get more pitch. [Read more]

Well I’ve been out with the Goshawk and flying the Gyrkin most days, yes even yesterday in the wind and rain. The gyrkin is starting to learn that he needs some height to kill and is looking in after being on the kite. The goshawk however is on fire. Me and Zoe have worked our butts off the last couple of days and today we got a big shipment of Marshall telemetry equipment through. So after dealing with all the orders and adding all the equipment to our stock I went out and flew the Gyr and Goshawk.

After walking for a good hour with Amber and Jess I got a point in long grass. I’m using a Marshall pointing collar just in case the dog goes out of sight. However on this occasion I could see the dogs and and flew a pheasant. The bird was upwind but not high enough. I waited to see if he would mount higher but he thought it was enough, so I flush whilst he was out of place so he couldn’t kill. He came back after his chase and I fed him up on the way back to the van.

I then got Victor the goshawk. He now weighs in 1Lb 8OZ and seemed kean. We walked for an hour and didn’t see much, then the dogs started to quarter in a tight pattern and both froze on point. I headed up wind of the dogs and whispered “get em up” after another point and another command up sprang a hen pheasant. She made for the trees as Victor closed in like cheetah on a gazelle. I heard branches breaking but when I got there, victor was in a tree and the dog went straight back on point at some brambles. I got the Goshawk back on fist and again gave the command to the dogs. The pheasant flew vertical off the ground only to then have the Goshawk plunge into it. The pair of them crashed through an apple tree but alas, the hen came away and Victor was left footing a lot of feathers.

I carried on. By this time it was getting late. Any chance of me taking my wife and son to the cinema had long passed, but the evening was perfect. I made my way back up a steep hill, hungry for another flight. I was just beginning to reside to the fact that we were going home empty handed when the English pointers froze. Again I headed upwind past both dogs and positioned myself and the goshawk for the flight. “Get em up” and the dogs pounced. I was expecting a pheasant but instead up got three wild grey partridge. Victor was off but in the first 10 meters the Partridge seemed to be away and then Victor pumped like mad and went into a folding dive as the pair headed down the hill and over the silver birch trees. I wasn’t bothered he didn’t catch I thought as I ran down the hill, that was one hell of a display.

I got 200 meters and pulled out my telemetry receiver. Aloud bleep on near, he was close by. I looked in the tree tops nothing. Then I saw the dogs wagging their tails and catching the air with flared nostrils and there heads up high. I knew instantly the bird had killed. There he was at the foot of a Silver birch with a wild grey partridge. I couldn’t believe it. After a little dance and a jig with the dogs whom seemed as insanely happy as me, I took some pics and smiled all the way back home for a roasting off my wife for being out for another four hours and to microwave up a cold tea.

Zoe smiles at me I relay my tale of the flight like she might when Aidan, my son comes back from school with a tale of what he did in the play ground. I sometimes think she might pat my head and say well done now go and tidy your room. My enthusiasm for falconry does seem to bring out the child in me and long may it do so; for to live without enjoying what it is that you do, is no life at all.

Last night I took my father, hunting the goshawk near his house. My father has always been keen on falconry but didn’t make the best of falconers due to trying to train his bird like a dog and felt “sorry for them” when “they looked hungry.” Alas after getting his Harris hawk back for him on several occasions because it was to high in weight, and condition and sick of being called rover my dad packed in. Thank goodness he is now the captain of a golf club and daily ruins a good walk by playing golf. But last night with Jess and amber my two English pointers we walked for over three hours, by which time my dad was starting to lag behind somewhat and kept stopping to name berries and trees (secretly trying to get his breath back)

The inevitable happened and whilst dad was trailing behind (being in his mid seventies is no excuse) the dog pointed and I bumped a large adult cock pheasant. The gos was facing the wrong way (my fault I know) but he flipped over and took chase. You can tell with your bird when things are right. Condition is good the bird is at weight and they know what to do and Victor certainly did. It was a long slip over 250 meters. I didn’t see the finish but knew by the alarm calls from a dozen magpies (who need working on) that Victor the Goshawk had killed. I crept through the woods and saw Victor plucking away at the already dead Cock. Victor looked up as if to say “where have you been you’re slower than your dad” and then continued to pluck away.

I’d lost my dad so with the bird happy and going nowhere I left a dog with him and went to retrieve my father whom out of nowhere had found some other walker to talk to. After a few curse words we made our way back to the Goshawk. I had a sweat on by this time running this way and that. I suppose Goshawks are a younger mans sport. I suppose if I’m luck enough my son Aidan will be dragging me around when I’m in my seventies and he’ll be calling me an old git and the circle of life repeats itself again and again. As my dad sais “Son I maybe old and that’s better than the alternative. One day if your lucky you might get to my age, but if you give me any more lip, you’ll not see Christmas.” He’d have to catch me first though…

Sorry for not writing; I’ve been in Ireland filming darts for sky sports. I was hoping to update the site from out in Ireland but our laptop packed in a week before, doh. So anyhow eight days outside Dublin filming darts in a hall full of drunk Irish, brits, dutch, welsh and that’s just the dart players. This is Darren another camera man who operates the big camera that swings around the crowds and annoys anyone in front who can’t see, although most people can’t see by the end of the night due to the booze. This year the venue sold 38 barrels of beer in one hour. That averaged over four pints per head in one hour, and muggins here goes out in the crowd and films them.

Anyway whilst we only film at night, and then drink ourselves and play on the xbox360 until the early morning, the day was free to hunt. I took over the goshawk as the game for the gyr in Ireland was in short supply. I was kitted out in the van with all the perches and boxes telemetry and food for the week and through Keith Barker (a falconer friend whom has moved to Ireland) got in touch with the Irish Falconers Club and got some great land of a chap called Ryan. It was full of rabbits and one the second day, Victor killed.

I spent three to four hours every day with the goshawk hunting rabbits, and had a really good slip at crows. I really got to test out the Marshall digital telemetry receiver and the scout transmitter. Both of which worked fantastic. You have to get used to the medium range on the receiver being less powerful and to now trust the far setting when needed. Victor has come back fitter and meaner than before, unlike myself that has come back full of Guinness and four sheets to the wind.

I’ve Been flying Victor the male Goshawk for about two weeks. He moulted out at Darran Chadwicks mews in North Yorkshire next to a young lady Goshawk with the hope of them “gettin jiggy with it” next year. He’s come back moulted through even with his Marshall trackpack left on which made it easy to start training when he came home. I’ve got him a special BFC offer Marshall Scout telemetry transmitter that I left turn on whilst he manned and trained up just in case. With a forty day battery I hardly had to care about the cost even with a credit crunch. He has so far had a mallard drake, a partridge and now here photographed using my iphone a hen pheasant. My day at present is Goshawkin’ in the morning working for Marshall radio telemetry through until three four o’clock and then flying Ivan the Gyr falcon. Not a bad old life at times……