In Game: at George Washington

[raptorcat]

Chapter 12 of The Falconry Chronicles: Injuries, an Occupational Hazard

A prefatory note: I never characterize my relationships with my birds as "ownership." Because I always intended to eventually release all my birds back into the wild, I viewed it as a brief interaction where I had entered the world of the Redtail hawk as a working partner, an impermanent caretaker with a huge responsibility to house, feed, exercise, and hunt with these magnificent creatures. In acuality, these birds owned me.

The broken fibula was by far the worst of my falconry-related injuries, but it could hardly be blamed on the hawk. Yet other incidents brought home my mentor Larry's prescient remark that these birds can, and will hurt you. After all, they are wild, often unpredictable animals with razor-sharp talons and beaks, and the risk of serious injury was always lurking in the background. Other than my broken leg, three other incidents come to mind that can be viewed as more than mere scratches.

The first hawk-induced injury was during the time I had Fiona in my possession. It was during the summer of her first moult, when I'd been feeding her much more than she got to eat during the actual falconry season. I always tried to feed my hawks from my gloved fist during the summer months so they wouldn't grow too aloof, but the added quantities of food brought a certain expectation, an entitlement that the hawk feels is owed to it. Greed takes hold, and I failed to recognize that this would translate into aggression. Fiona finished her meal (probably a chunk of squirrel) and wanted more. When none was forthcoming, she sank her talons into my ungloved hand. Her hallux talon, which operates like an opposable thumb, joined with one of the "finger" talons and pierced the webbed skin between my thumb and forefinger. It took a bit of coaxing to make her loosen her grip, but when she did, it left a perfect hole. We were about to get on a plane to Springfield, Illinois to visit Mrs. Raptorcat's sister and her family, so I washed out the wound with peroxide, slapped on a couple of band-aids over the entry and exit wounds, and hoped for the best. But by the time we touched down I Illinois, my hand was horribly swollen and the in-laws had to make a detour to the ER at the Springfield hospital for me to get some antibiotics. The ER staff were fascinated by my tale of what caused the injury but said I should be fine, and they proved correct.

The next incident occurred several years later with Roxanne, and it again involved food. It was September, and I was slowly decreasing her food intake to get her weight back down to the range where she'd be responsive to my commands and keen to hunt when the falconry season began in late October. I had gotten home from court late that day, and it was nearing dark when I entered the mews with a squirrel foreleg in my falconer's glove. She greedily scarfed it down, nearly swallowing it whole. Hawks, like dogs and cats, grow used to routines, and my routine in this instance was to toss her up to her night perch and then exit the chamber. But Roxanne wasn't satisfied with what she considered a meager meal. As I felt for the door handle, she suddenly swooped down and latched onto my left ear. The pain was intense, and I couldn't get her to let go. A hawk's feet and talons operate with a rachet-like effect; it isn't easy to get the hawk to disengage. I staggered around the mews with Roxy perched on my shoulder, flapping her wings and trying to detach my ear from its rightful place as I tried to figure out what to do. I decided to try to put out a distress call to Mrs. Raptorcat, who was in the house preparing dinner, but my hands were so shaky I couldn't dial on my cellphone. So I decided to sit down on a small stool I kept in the mews and hoped Roxy would eventually let go, without beginning to dine on my ear. But her notion of disengaging was decidedly different from what I'd envisioned. Instead of merely relaxing her grip, she tried to tear through the cartilage, jerking hard with her leg. Each time she did this, paroxysms of pain coursed through my head.

After what seemed an hour, but was actually only ten minutes, Roxanne did let go. I staggered back to the house, and when I entered the kitchen, I asked Mrs. Raptorcat to inspect the carnage. She did so with a weariness born from the experience of observing the aftermath of my previous blood-inducing encounters, and she remarked, "Well, there's a big enough hole that I can see daylight. Unless you want to leave it open for adding an earring to your falconer's ensemble, You'd better go to the ER. I'll make you a plate you can heat up later." After still more lengthy explanations to another bemused hospital staff and with a couple of stitches in my ear, I returned home, chastened.

Yet there was still one more raptor-related incident involving my ears -- an event so bizarre, and even humorous, that it deserves a separate chapter. Up next, Roxanne and the Great-Horned Owl.

Until then, GO CATS!

[Dr. Bliss]

Jeez, that's painful to read.

[raptorcat]

Nah, It wasn't that bad. Kinda like childbirth -- painful at the time, but then it becomes a distant memory of unpleasantness, leavened by all the great memories involving the "baby."

[MrMac]

At least as cringe-worthy as our late-game shooting has been recently. Go Cats!

[ScootCat]

Let’s hope we’re the ones sinking our talons into our opponent today.

[Jay Catsby]

I have a habit of reading these threads from bottom to top. Currently debating whether I want to read raptorcat’s full thread start.

Anyway.. GO CATS!

[Dr. Bliss]

I have a habit of reading these threads from bottom to top. Currently debating whether I want to read raptorcat’s full thread start.

Anyway.. GO CATS!

Trigger warning: don't read if you have raptorphobia.

[Waitress]

I have a habit of reading these threads from bottom to top. Currently debating whether I want to read raptorcat’s full thread start.

Anyway.. GO CATS!

Trigger warning: don't read if you have raptorphobia.

Spoiler: it almost ended like this:

[wildcatadrian]

Bobby Durkin starting today.

[Waitress]

Bobby Durkin starting today.

Who does he replace?

[wildcatadrian]

Brizzi

[raptorcat]

Whoah! That'll shake things up in the Colt 45 race.

[MrMac]

Matt following the Board?

[MrMac]

Need the shooting, and we can't hang with their guards anyway...? Of course it could be--and probably is--a situational decision.

[MrMac]

Reed getting out of the blocks (off the block?) early in this game.