Accipitrarius Sordidatus

It would be easier at this point to list the parts that don’t hurt.

The wind has switched around to the east and it’s gusting over 40 and starting to spit rain.  They say it’s supposed to rain for the next two days.  That would be good; we’re literally burning up.  It’s that time of year.  No rain in months and big winds combine to make for hard hawking and hundreds of fires.

Fortunately I have a couple of cold beers and some leftover crawfish etouffee in the refrigerator,  a big bottle of Advil in the cabinet, and the smell of fresh butchered rabbit on my hands.

I went hawking today down in a very urban area with friends, old and new.  It’s a field that was supposed to be spectacular, with rabbits everywhere.  I have heard that story so many times before and it’s always the same;maybe you end up with a flush or two, but at best, lots of rats.

This time it was true.   Amazingly so.

At one point I was watching five rabbits run with one sitting in front of me, looking at me knowingly as if to say, “Your hawk isn’t going to hunt a damned thing with that dog in the field.”

He was right, of course.  Since I’m much, much smarter than a lowly little cottontail, it took me only about an hour and a half and probably thirty ignored slips to come to the same conclusion.

Jay’s dog is a good one, she worked hard and pushed a lot of rabbits.  She’s had many good years flushing for hawks and today was her first time in years.  Even though the hawk didn’t handle it well with her in the field, I’m sure she’ll sleep well tonight, dreaming of the scent.

New field, new dog, new member of the party and Smash was having none of it.  He ripped the side of my face, flew up to a perch, and waited for things to be more to his liking.  It did not matter how many rabbits ran under him, he was not going to chase.

Once the dog was in the truck he came down to the carry pole and the hunt began.

Of course we had already flushed the easy ones.  The remaining rabbits were sneaking away, using every trick in their trade.  They’d put in tight at our feet, invisible and still until we passed, bolting when hawk and hunters weren’t looking.

Eventually, one rabbit made a miscalculation.   Maybe she bolted a little early or headed in a slightly wrong angle.  Whatever it was, Smash grabbed her quickly and although she dragged him through brush and dense cover, he had her and never let go.

I was the only one who saw it.   I turned and fired my very old and ashamedly large self off after Smash and his prize.  Throttled up and at full speed, I covered a full two or three feet before discovering that my feet were completely trapped in brush.

At the instant when both gravity and I noticed my entrapment, gravity took the predictable route and behaved excruciatingly according to theory.

Nature, having just ignored my plans of hawk and dog, made up for her slight by planting my face in all she had to offer at that moment.  What she had to offer right then was uneven, pointed, and not very tasty.

At least my friends were there for me.

Knowing I might be seriously hurt, or even worse, completely disabled, since after all, who knows what might happen to a someone like me who takes such a horrific fall, they unconcernedly ran on after hawk and rabbit.

As my vision cleared, I noticed rabbit fur inches from my face and tried to call out and share what I saw, but I had no breath to do so.  Slowly realizing that I may not be as dead as I felt, I struggled to my feet and eventually caught up with all of them to end the chase.

Not a word of concern for my well-being was spoken.

I would do the same for them without hesitation.

At least there are no pictures.