Falconers bring ancient sport to the Uwharries

Forget Jason Bourne. Forget 007. Forget The French Connection. Equally thrilling chase scenes occur every day in the forests of the Uwharries. While action films are standard fare at the multiplex, we rarely witness the dramas unfolding in our own backyard, as raptors pursue their prey. Want a ticket to a front row seat? Spend a day in the field with a group of falconers and their birds. I jumped at the opportunity when the N.C. Falconer’s Guild held its January meeting in Denton.

Our adventure began when a young man removed a leather hood and untethered his juvenile red-tail, letting it fly into a tree. We tromped through the woods smacking tree trunks with stout walking sticks and tugging on grapevines to scare up a squirrel. “It’s like hunting with dogs,” said Bob Pendergrass, an avid falconer and supervisor of the nature center at Dan Nicholas Park in Salisbury. “Except we’re the beagles.”

A bell tied to the red-tail’s leg helped us keep track of the bird. It jingled overhead as the hawk followed our progress through the forest. When someone spotted a squirrel, the falconers alerted the bird by shouting, “Ho! Ho! Ho!” On cue, the red-tail swooped past, talons outstretched. The chase was on – from limb to limb and tree to tree – playing out in the bare canopy against the backdrop of a bright blue sky. I was jittery with adrenalin.

After several hits and near misses, the squirrel eventually scampered into a snag. The red-tail landed nearby, waiting for another try, but his handler donned a leather glove and enticed the bird onto his forearm with a piece of squirrel meat. According to Pendergrass, a January squirrel is a wily survivor, harder to catch than one untested in September.

Next, we worked the adjacent grasslands with a pair of Harris’ hawks. They are birds of wide-open spaces – the desert and plains – and typically hunt in groups. We made our way through chest-high grass, whacking briar patches to flush a rabbit. The birds perched on limbs at the edge of the field, watching us, haughty as a prima donna. They’re striking birds, boldly patterned red and black, which only adds to their mystique.

Harris’ hawks aren’t at home in a forest, but when a squirrel appeared at the edge of the woods, they were game. One snatched the squirrel from the branches while the other waited near the ground. The squirrel twisted and turned, frantically pulling away. In free fall, halfway to the ground, it grabbed a twig the size of a pencil. The other hawk swooped toward the trunk but missed. After more aerial acrobatics, the squirrel went to ground at the base of a stump. We poked the hole with our sticks and scraped away some dirt, but we couldn’t unearth it. Situations like this inspire some falconers to work with a dog. This is a task supremely suited to a Jack Russell terrier’s skills.

Falconry is an ancient sport, probably originating in Mesopotamia more than 4,000 years ago, and long associated with royalty in Europe and the Middle East. There’s never been a strong tradition of falconry in North America, but our native red-tails and Harris’ hawks have now become popular with falconers around the world. The term falconry is a bit misleading as buteos, accipters and eagles are also commonly used. The English prefer the word hawking.

Birds can be procured through captive breeding or taken from the wild. Many of those collected in early fall are returned to the wild the following spring. I was astonished to learn a bird can be trained to hunt with a human in a matter of weeks. Still, Pendergrass noted, every time you release a bird, it’s an act of faith. You can never be certain it will return.

Like any other form of hunting, falconry is regulated by the N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission. Practitioners need a license to collect and keep birds of prey, and their housing has to meet strict requirements. Falconers must also adhere to special seasons and bag limits for their quarry. Rabbit and squirrel are hunted statewide, and ducks are an option near the coast.

Falconry became somewhat controversial in the 1960s as the population of peregrine falcons plummeted. Although this was primarily the result of the pesticide DDT, some conservationists considered taking birds from the wild an unnecessary threat. Falconers eventually banded together, founded The Peregrine Fund, and refined captive breeding techniques that helped ensure the species’ survival.

While some conservationists still take issue with keeping any wild animal in captivity, falconers believe their methods can have a positive impact on raptor populations. They claim supporting young birds while they learn to hunt can help them survive the first year of life, a period in which the mortality rate is typically 60 percent. This statistic resonated with me after seeing how difficult it can be to catch a rabbit or squirrel.

Falconry is not a sport for dilettantes. It can be time-consuming and expensive, and sometimes dangerous, but as Pendergrass noted, there’s an allure to having a relationship with an animal that’s still essentially wild, not to mention the thrill of witnessing its exhilarating display of power and finesse. Falconry offers a deeper appreciation of the natural world and insights into our own human nature.

To learn more about falconry, contact the N.C. Falconer’s Guild at http://ncfg.org or listen to a recent interview with writer and falconer Helen MacDonald at http://hereandnow.wbur.org/2015/03/03/helen-macdonald-hawk.

Many thanks to Bob Pendergrass for his time and insights and for allowing me to tag along with his group of falconers.