Wild Love Affairs
At sunrise, on Valentine’s Day, I released two of my falconry team. It wasn’t a decision I made overnight. I have been thinking about it for months and I’ve come to this crossroad several times in the last few years. I can feel the breath of spring in the air. The morning birdsong is a little louder. The red-tailed hawks on my street are renewing their pair bond. They are ripping at the pine boughs until they have crafted whips of pine perfect for weaving. The migration is coming, and territories are being assessed. The raptors are getting restless.
There was a weeklong break between storms and it was now or next year. So, before I could change my mind as I have done the last two years, I decided it would be now.
Sawyer, my red-tailed hawk was always a project. She came to me with a concussion at the very beginning of COVID when it was nearly impossible to find a rehabber willing to meet up. I had been asked by a friend and one of the Morongo elders to come rescue her. So, masked and a little irritated, I picked her up, brought her home, and when I realized it going to take time before I could release her, I put her on my license. Despite my initial irritation, having her to tend to and ponder during the lockdown kept me sane.
She was skinny, her feathers were bleached and tattered, and she couldn’t fly. I fattened her up, treated her for every disease a raptor could carry and slowly she regained her wings. Then I flew her for a couple of seasons. I got her strong and healthy, but she is basically the worst of the bad boyfriends I've ever loved. She was enamored with being a “rescue.” She just wanted to stay in her room and play hawk games while not contributing to feeding the household. And she didn’t like it when I let other people hang out with us. We needed to find new partners.
Sawyer was in the wild for nearly a year and knows how to make her way. I set her loose up the road in the chaparral a reasonable distance from the nearest paired red-tailed hawks and I’ve been running the dogs she knows in this space she knows every morning to make sure she doesn't need a hand out. I’ve yet to see her again, but I have high hopes that she will make her own way.
I released Grohl, my Cooper’s hawk, in my backyard where he learned to fly and hunt as a baby and has spent many nights out since. I raised him from 15 days old, lived and hunted with him for six years, but a wild heart doesn’t forget what it is at its core. And I don’t there is a wilder heart than the one that beats in an accipiter’s breast.
The yard is loaded with house sparrows, house finches, and juncos that he can snatch, but I also know that in desperation he will land on the fence and beg. More likely he will thrive, find a mate, and visit often. He’s gorgeous and sure to be the most sought-after eligible bachelor in the neighborhood.
Sawyer and Grohl both deserve to go find a valentine if they want one. They are both welcome back if they don't. They were never mine in the first place. Officially, they are owned by California Fish & Wildlife and licensed to me, but they belong to no one and have no debts to other living beings. I wonder what that’s like. I hope I at least get to watch Grohl live that life from a distance.
When you love something set it free, etc. and so on, but do we really ever let something we love go? We carry all we have loved with us in memories that flash through our minds unbidden. Sometimes they are painful and sometimes they are sweet, but all our affairs shift who are and the decisions we make. We do not become the people we are alone. We are all that we have loved. Perhaps my heart is a little wild now too.
This has always been the best part and the most challenging bit of falconry for me. When it’s time, a raptor will leave you without a glance over their shoulder. A relationship with a raptor is based on shared understandings and expectations bound by trust. It is deeply meaningful in its own way, but the love is one-sided. I have cried deep wrenching sobs releasing hunting partners in my past. It hurts. I didn’t cry this time though and not because it didn’t hurt, but I guess after 30 years of falconry, I can’t bring myself to feel abandoned, not when I’ve been given so much.
Learning to love a being while embracing the impermanence of the relationship is a tricky bit of cognitive dissonance, but then again, show me a love affair that lasts forever. Perhaps a wild love affair is not just the best kind of affair, but the only kind worth having. Being loved back, well, it’s not required. It’s just the icing on the cake.
Wonderful, as usual!
Very nice.