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An American in Northumberland
19th October 2008

A great 'report' from American Charlie Walton about his days hunting with Falconry Days

C. F. Walton
Falconry in the English Countryside
October 2008

It is Saturday, October 18, 2008, in Northumberland-the north of England near the little village of Wark (rhymes with "lark"). It is the same area that some 2,000 years ago in the year 122 A.D., the Roman Emperor Hadrian had stone fortifications connected by seventy-three miles of great stone walls across Northern England. This marked the northern frontier of the Roman Empire and was meant to prevent raids on Roman Briton by the Pictish tribes, the ancient inhabitants of Scotland.

The rain has stopped and we are walking behind a German Shorthaired Pointer that has just frozen on point. We are walking up on the dog fast. He is trembling and ready to flush. I can feel my heart pounding and the female Harris Hawk on my left fist is anxious. She knows what is about to happen. Out of a clump of sedge in the pasture erupts a hen pheasant. Wings beating, she hardly clears the top of the field brush, as she dives over the crest heading downhill to the safety of the tree-lined creek. Hanna, my Harris Hawk, is launched as is Meg, which has been riding with my friend and business associate, Poul Einshøj.

It was he who found and organized this hunt. The third hawk is Spot (yes, it has a big white blotch on its tail feathers) and is held back slightly by its handler and the owner of the enterprise, Mark French.

The pheasant has a long lead and wind to its rear. The three hawks are in hot pursuit, as the pheasant makes it to the creek and wood line and vanishes into the brush. The hawks' wings push down as they soar up to the tree tops, expecting the hen to reappear. The Pointer is into the creek with its head held high, trying to find the scent while the hawks dance along the crown of the willows, screaming in frustration but holding over the dog, knowing this is the most efficient place to be. The pheasant had hit the ground running and will soon be in Scotland. Wow, what an event!

Some background and explanation is needed. Earlier in the week, I was attending the largest floricultural/horticultural trade show in the world, Horti Fair, in Holland and had arranged to visit our operation in the U.K. A year or so earlier, I had expressed interest in hunting hawks in England and, in the meantime, Poul had identified an outfitter/falconer only an hour away. I flew from Amsterdam, Holland to Newcastle, England, met Poul and we drove west to Hexham, then northwest to the village of Barrasford, and checked into a local inn, Barrasford Arms.

The time of the year is right and the weekend is available. Falconers work from mid-August to March, then let their birds rest during their spring molt, where old feathers are replaced with new plumage. The summer is the breeding season for the game birds and rabbits, and a time where these raptors (the classification of all birds of prey) are on tour and shown at public events.

The Barrasford Arms is like a postcard. The building is made of local quarried stone, some two hundred years old, with twelve rooms above the tavern. My room is comfortable with a deep down comforter covering the bed and windows looking out over the rolling countryside. The view is complete with an imposing storybook castle a quarter of a mile away! This is Haughton Castle. It has a center tower fortification, dating back to the 14th century when it was owned by Gerald Widdrington. It was then that the central tower was heightened and turrets and parapet walls added. By the 16th century, it had fallen into disrepair and attacked by Scottish tribesmen. Haughton was finally upgraded in the early 19th century to a fashionable country estate and today is occupied, but not open to the public.

We put our gear away and meet downstairs to reserve a table for dinner. The tavern was filling up with local people, most who live within walking distance and look as if they had developed this habit long ago and practiced it often. I really wanted a picture, but thought I best ask permission. So, I went from table to table, introducing myself and explaining that I was a Yank, who wanted to share what I was seeing with my wife at home, and would they mind if I took their picture? After the surprise of my question and my accent, there was a flurry of primping, posing and laughter. Conversations started easily, with talk soon turning to U.S. politics and questions about the upcoming election. The sentiment in the pub was that Obama would win. They like McCain, but questioned where the woman, Palin, came from. They were not convinced they wanted her finger on the trigger. Interesting how our elections are viewed by others.

We sat down to a great dinner of braised shoulder of lamb )See recipe at the end of this article) with vegetables and red wine-really, really good. A couple was seated next to us, Ian and Lynda Vinall.

They were attending a wedding in the area and had arranged a dinner alone. Poor folks to have been seated next to us! We learned that Ian had recently retired, after selling his printing business, and that he is a fly fisherman and wing shooter. Lynda is an enthusiastic gardener. They were working to organize their lives, so that they could travel more. We all found that we definitely had a lot in common. We shared stories for most of the evening and when the second bottle of red wine was dead, we said good bye, promising to meet and do this again someday.

The next morning, Poul and I are packed and out by 9:00 a.m. to meet our falconer at 10:00 a.m. It is raining, windy and getting cold. The GPS in Poul's car probably questioned if we really wanted to go where we entered, but gave us a map anyway. The twisting two-lane country road narrowed and became a single lane. Trees are getting closer and up ahead is a closed gate with a sign "Bull in Field." Poul suggested, "You get the gate!" A mile later, we encountered a farmer and he confirmed that we really can get to our destination, The Lady Hill Farm, from here. He gives us detailed directions and a few miles later, to our relief, we see a sign announcing "Falconrydays."

Our host and falconer, Mark French, greets us at the door of his stone farmhouse and motions us to the connecting stables, now converted into "keeps" for his birds. His wife, Mandy, offers us hot coffee and tea and introduces us to two other falconers, Derrick Clark and Richard Laidler, and to their apprentice, Kane Scramgeour. Kane is a senior in high school and has two hawks of his own.

The house and outbuildings of Lady Hill Farm are made of limestone and typical of the area. The corners are made of cut stone and the infield of the walls is filled with tightly-fitted irregular stone. The workmanship is superb. The cut stone is margined or delicately worked around the edges and rough-tooled over the flat surfaces. Even the gutters are supported by carved, cut-stone corbels. The stable area has been outfitted for all the necessary functions of falconry.

The "Weight Room" is the equivalent to an equestrian tack room, but the central object is a perch-mounted scale to weigh each bird (more about this in a minute). Thick leather gauntlet gloves, left hand only, hang from hooks with leather falcon hoods hanging beside. These are exquisite works of art, made from leather with decorative plumes or tassels on top. The hoods have leather strings to secure them to the birds. The hood tassel is functional, as well. It allows the falconer to secure the hood with his teeth, while his right hand unties the leather strap. When the dogs go on point, the hood is removed and the bird is launched to get high and in position above the dog, hopefully all before the partridge is flushed. We will take two Peregrine Falcons out in the afternoon, but will fly the Harris Hawks this morning.

Back to the Weight Room, Mark and Derrick explain the birds' diet and needs for fur, feathers and bone. After a meal, which can't be completely digested, the remains are regurgitated in the form of a pellet, about three-inches in diameter and two-to-three inches long. If you've walked in the woods and found an owl's roost, you've probably seen similar. The significance here is that the bird will be lethargic until this is passed. By religiously weighing the bird every day, one can tell when the bird can be taken out to fly-a hungry bird is alert and a hunter, and will return to the gloved fist.

The next room is the size of a double-box stall and is outfitted with large square wooden boxes on the walls with open fronts. These boxes are three-feet square, facing each other, and about twelve feet apart, and are the separate night quarters for each of the six female and three male Harris Hawks. Sunk into the floor are six-inch posts for each of the hawks. Each hawk has soft leather jesses, or straps, about six inches long attached to each leg. Each of these straps secures a bell, with a third bell attached to several tail feathers. I learn later that this third bell is where a transmitter is also attached, should a bird get lost it can be found. During bad weather, like today, the birds are inside and perched on their respective posts. Harris Hawks are originally desert birds and are very unique. They are the only raptors that work as a social group. They live together, hunt together, and these have bonded with the dogs, falconers and even the ferrets. Yes, ferrets, which are used to flush out rabbits from their holes (more about this later).

Walking outdoors, the buildings form a court. The far side of the court is made up of a series of projected pens with sold walls and a shed roof with doors, about four-feet wide, deep and high (like miniature stables), with one bird on a stand, tethered and looking out. There is a European Eagle Owl, a Red Tail Hawk, a Ferruginous Hawk, a Snowy Owl, a hybrid Peregrine x Lanner Falcon, a pure Peregrine Falcon, a Saker Falcon and an African Spotted Eagle Owl. What an assortment! If this was not enough, in a separate aviary was a large Russian Golden Eagle called a "Stepp Eagle." In another part of the connected stables, there is another room with individual box quarters for a Barn Owl with its familiar heart-shaped face, a larger Tawny Owl, a Kestrel, and two more falcons-one a Peregrine and the other being a hybrid mix of Gyr, Lanner and Peregrine. I was so in awe of the variety and magnificence of these birds that I failed to note the names of Mandy's collection of several smaller and delicate owls that she showed, holding each in the cup of her hand.

We continue our tour and visit their three bird dogs and see the litter of eight new Pointer puppies that are only a few days old and so small they fit in the palm of your hand. It's clear that Mark and Mandy are completely immersed in this business/lifestyle and thoroughly enjoy it.

We load up three of the Harris Hawks, each in its own transport box but not hooded, and drive to the field where we were to find the earlier described pheasant. I have Hanna, the alpha female Harris Hawk. She is not settled and often launches herself from my leather glove. I have to restrain her by the trailing leather jesses. With bells ringing and wings beating (about three feet across), she screams in righteous indignation, as she returns to the fist and prances-not too happy at being restrained. It's interesting that she is always aware of where the dog is. After all, from her perspective, she's worked hard to train us all to work for her. The dog is out there; Mark, Derrick and Kane have ferrets; and her other hawks are there for back up-why wouldn't you want to be aloft or in the tree tops working the creek or pine plantation, rather than on a stranger's fist?

As we move up the hill, Derrick points our fox scat from the evening before and numerous rabbit holes. A badger had earlier visited the area, tearing up the sod looking for grubs. Derrick opens his retro-fitted tool box and out pops a pair of white ferrets with bright pink noses. They are white, so they are easy to see. They know exactly what to do and down the holes they go, only to pop up from another and then down again. Soon, a squeal is heard and Derrick can feel vibrations from below. Each ferret has a radio transmitter collar and Derrick has a meter that shows exactly where the ferret is and how deep he is. It is a very helpful tool, if the ferret kills a rabbit underground and has to be dug out.

Our three girls, Hanna, Meg and Spot, are moving above us in the pines and waiting. They have done this before. Suddenly, a rabbit explodes from its burrow and Hanna drops deadly on it. Then Spot drops from another tree on another rabbit, with Meg as back up. The green vegetation growing rampant under the pine is familiar-stinging nettles-acres of it. I haven't experienced it, but my wife, April, pulled it by mistake last year in the garden. She immediately blistered up all over her hands and fingers and described it as "being on fire."

The falconers quickly dispatch the rabbits and the hawks reluctantly allow their talons to be pried from their catch. The falconer puts the rabbit in his pouch. Later on the way back to the car, the German Shorthaired, Fleck, freezes. A large European Hare (like our Western Jackrabbit), the size of a Miniature Poodle, explodes from a sedge clump in front of us. Mark launches Hanna with an encouraging cry of "Gee!" Kane launches Spot and yells, "Haw!" My poor Meg is the last to enter the fray. The falconers' commands reinforce to the birds that game has been seen and signals them to "Get to it!" The commands are similar to the "left and right" commands given by farmers to mules years ago. Hanna is on the hare and Mark is ecstatic, yelling and running to catch the action. He dispatches the hare and allows Hanna to open the chest and feed, and then substitutes a small gutted rabbit as a reward and diversion as he switches the game. I learned he already had a recipe planned and only lacked the hare. This has been a full morning!

We load up to head for lunch at the Battlesteads Hotel and Restaurant. The outfitters walk to a patch of grass to clean their "wellies" and I my boots. I was given a rubberized pair of coverall pants in anticipation of wet, high grass. Everyone else had classic high rubber boots (wellies) and tweed knickers with matching vests. Oh yes, they also had windowpane shirts and club ties-a picture right out of the Orvis catalog. I did have a proper Irish cap and Barbour jacket, but no wellies-next time!

After lunch we're back to the farm to change birds and get ready for the grand exercise-flying the Peregrine Falcons. This afternoon, we have two falcons. One is a young, twenty-week old hybrid female. She is one-half Peregrine, one-quarter Barberry Falcon and one-quarter Lanner Falcon. She is larger than the male, brown and white, and named Tramp. The male is pure Peregrine with its classic black and white bar markings. He is called Prince. No question that Mandy had nothing to do with naming these birds!

It's interesting that by the mid-1900's, the Peregrine Falcon was almost extinct. The species has made a spectacular comeback, just as the American Bald Eagle has after the ban on the insecticide, DDT. The Peregrine Falcon, while in its past commonly called a Duck Hawk, is not a hawk but a falcon and the fastest bird on the planet. It soars high, sights its target, folds its wings and plummets to the earth at speeds recorded at 180 mph. It strikes its quarry with a closed fist, knocking it down, then grasping it with its talons, covering it with outstretched wings, and killing it with a piercing bite to the neck or head.

After removal from their transport boxes, the falcons are mounted on the glove with hoods in place. The hood keeps the falcons calm and content to ride on the falconer's fist. We proceed up the hillside of an open pasture with Fleck, the eight-year-old German Shorthaired Pointer, ahead and covering a lot of area in search of partridge. We also have a young two-year-old Pointer along for training. The long ski rope tied to his collar, "just in case," should have been my clue to what was about to happen. Fleck was ranging pretty far out in front of us and suddenly freezes on point. We unhood the falcons and send them aloft. The birds circle, gaining altitude, but the pup could not contain himself and busted the covey. There were partridge going here, others going there, with the falcons not yet in position. One partridge doubles back and heads downhill, over the valley with Tramp in hot pursuit. The partridge has the wind to its rump and is really moving. The sun is over our backs and we can see the birds heading for a farm a mile away. As we focus on the farmyard, we see, of all things, a dove coop! One of those beautiful Martha Stewart-like cone roof affairs, painted white, with cute little doves about! Result-no partridge, but to Tramp's credit, no farmer's pet dove either!

Now comes the art. How do you talk to a hot-fired falcon that has just chased dinner over the English countryside and lost it? How do you get it to fly a mile back and return to your fist? The answer is training and a lure, plus a high-pitched dog whistle. The lure is a pair of grouse wings, weighted and tied to a long cord. It is rotated overhead with more and more line, then thrown in the air and flutters to the ground. Yes, it has a bit of meat attached. Over the hill, we see Tramp-the wing pattern is its signature-long and narrow, where the hawk is shorter and beats more regularly. Here she comes, circles once and grabs the lure in midair and takes it to the ground. Watching both Tramp and Prince aloft is awesome. The birds gain altitude, then hover waiting to be presented the game. If the wait is too long, they tilt, lock wings and soar at razor-cutting speed, tilt again and soar upward to reposition to continue the wait.

We found several more coveys of partridge, but each time another fickle variable came to play-bird not ready, dog flushes too far out, didn't see that one until too late, etc. Every hunter reading this can relate. No matter, this is still something very special. We're looking down a mile or so into a valley from a very high hillside. The wind is up and the sun is still to our backs. The valley is aglow and has a small stream meandering through and around willows far below. The falcons are now flying below us, but over the valley, and the dogs are even further down the slope. If a partridge breaks, we have grandstand seats-but no birds. Again, no matter. Watching these falcons move through the air sends shivers. The lure swings, whistle blows, dogs turn, and the falcons swing back in unison. They circle and return to fist. To be here, alive and to experience this-thank you!

We return to Lady Hill Farm. Mandy has the teapot on. We put the birds away, settle upand try to explain the excitement we first-timers have just experienced. E-mail addresses are exchanged, with promises to return, and then we load the car and head for Poul's house an hour away in Sedgefield. What a great day!

Recipe for Barrasford Arm's Braised Shoulder of Lamb

• Marinate lamb shoulder 2-to-3 days in red wine, garlic, carrots, celery, bay leaves and onions
• Drain marinade from meat and vegetables (keep marinade)
• Brown and seal meat by turning in hot olive oil
• Add marinated vegetables to the meat and brown in hot olive oil
• Drain oil from meat and vegetables
• Add marinade to a pot and cook on low boil to reduce (evaporate) 50%
• Add lamb or beef stock, peppercorn and rosemary
• Braise for 7 hours in oven at 150°-175°F (70°-80°C) in covered dish
• Do not let meat dry out-top off with stock, if necessary
• Refrigerate meat in juice overnight
• Drain and put meat in a roasting pan with a little of the juice
• Warm slowly at low heat and pour a little juice over the meat to glaze
• Strain remainder of juice and thicken for brown sauce
• Serve with potatoes and boiled vegetables

A Show Stopping Display
19th June 2008

Teal, one of our demonstration birds almost catching the lure.

Recently our Mobile Display Team were at Corbridge Steam Show.

We provided a static display with our wide selection of Birds of Prey and two  flying demonstrations.

We received an excellent write up, and our demonstrations were said to be truely 'show stopping'.

We were pleased to hear this and are always striving to make our outside demonstrations up to top standard.