This last weekend was that of the Falconers Fair, this year returned to its original location at Althorp in Northamptonshire, home of the Spencer family and birthplace of the Princess Dianna, sadly also her resting place after her funeral a few years ago. The Fair had been organised for last year when very wet weather caused its cancellation but this year's weather turned into the first warm, sunny holiday weekend of the year.
I have not been to the event for several years as it comes in the breeding season and can be very difficult but this year it came between eggs and eyasses and the window of opportunity was open. I used to live in a village near the estate about 40 years ago when I worked for the Ministry of Agriculture and got to know the estate quite well when I was responsible for agricultural schemes and grant aid. This weekend was a pleasant journey in the fresh emerald greenery of newly sprouting hawthorn, breaking buds in the trees, daffodils in all the gardens of the sienna coloured stone houses appearing to have grown out of this landscape from the local rock. There were two red kites alongside the road and a few buzzards wheeling in the blue sky as I drove along. It was quite emotional to return to old haunts and see the bungalow in which Jenny and I had started our way of life together.
The Falconers Fair has been running for many years and much of the flush of novelty has worn off but now we are into the next generation of people interested in our way of life. Wonderful to see some familiar faces, catch up with other peoples adventures and their journey through life, how unique each tale is. For me the journey is about two hours with much time to consider memories and reflect.
It was very enjoyable to meet some old friends in the sunshine and chat for a while; one said he had been reading my Blog on the internet and engaged me in an unexpectedly deep discussion reflecting on old memories. His words brought to mind a verse by William Blake, first read many years before.
‘The vision of Christ which thou doest see
Is my Christ’s greatest enemy’
Each time read it has brought a new way of understanding familiar words. What a challenge it has been. Many times I had thought if only I could understand the meaning offered by so many experienced people to give a new perspective on what I had been doing for so long. Often it seemed that something was missing with satisfaction somehow diluted until I began to realise that this thing we call falconry has a depth and individuality, setting its own standards. And what do falconers do when they get together? Of course they talk about falconry.
Over a delicious pint of bitter we discussed how one of my most fulfilling experiences in any day is to simply see my falcons on the lawn as they sit contentedly on their blocks preening and watching their world. In any year we spend many hours absorbed with a deep sense of awe in their being. Many people happen into falconry by a chance meeting in which they are captivated by sheer presence of a bird of prey which they find becomes an integral part of their personal lives. They may want no more than to just experience this presence daily in their having a 'pet hawk' like other people have pet dogs of all varieties - the old widower with his small mongrel terrier who has just as meaningful a relationship for him as the field trial competitor with his line bred specialist athlete.
It’s the routine of the day which makes the relationship possible and provides opportunity for fulfillment we each find so dear. We strive to find our own way to respect the animal as it is created and all animal relationships are about one's ability to understand this creature's needs, to provide for them as one's contribution to positively reinforce its character which grows with experience in time to fulfill more and more of its potential. The harmony this brings to each individual is what we seem to strive for and is what I 'read' each evening as I go into the mews to wish the team 'goodnight', when I do evening stables or as I see my Gyr peacefully preening on the lawn. For many people this seemingly fairly superficial experience may be enough but they are just as obligated to ensure the complete fulfillment of the creature's other aspects of its need as the man who would take his hawks to catch grouse, the dressage rider or dog handler. It is individual to the animal so that not every Peregrine has a need of 2000 acres to fly. Indeed I knew of a pair of falcons which happily lived in an old ladies living room, flying around the house at will, weathering in the garden, flying to the lure playfully in a five acre field and breeding every year. This pair of birds lived to old age, remained feather perfect and were content whilst the old lady was thoroughly fulfilled by the experience.
As my friend and I were seeing at the Falconers Fair enjoyment of birds of prey comes in many shades. The ornithologist conservationist has his concept and experience of a way of life, a world in which the falcon is motivation for him. The dedicated and passionate grouse
hawker also sees and experiences all aspects of this world through his falcons and their quarry within his picture of experiences. All of these people are motivated by the same bird but in different ways. Yet somehow it is only too easy for people to oppose each other as each person's special interest seeks to define itself, almost inevitably seeing` any deviation as opposition to its own view. Thus the defender of the wild and the preservationist would ban all forms of bird keeping whilst many dedicated falconers decry anything other than the taking of wild quarry with trained birds of prey.
My friend is a passionate falconer but we were in agreement that it has to be what the individual finds fulfilling for themselves. Surrounded at the Falconers Fair by all variations of occupation clearly on display as a social context 'falconry' can be sharing in our experiences of birds of prey. Tolerance is our strength; respect of the man who is content to fly his peregrine to the lure appreciates the basic sense of fulfillment which is experienced by that person - my friend is keen to help him to see greater potential for the peregrine or the dressage horse or the working Cocker spaniel but there is also the point that if it's not what his life is about then he is entitled to respect for what he or she is doing. Like the old lady, there is always more than the generally accepted version of falconry, equitation or other sport which can work. Each person puts together a way of life and their own routines will provide for their own hawk's needs in the context of their own circumstance given encouragement and opportunity. Because a person lives in a flat it's presumptuous to say he can't have a falcon in defence of our own perspective. As I have traveled the world during the last 50 years or so I have met many people doing things against the odds but with encouragement they usually do them with the sincerest respect, motivation and success.
At this Falconers Fair my friend sat rubbing his foot backwards and forwards across the grass gradually exposing the dry soil below as he was asking himself 'what is falconry?' In my experience I would rather ask what is the essence of the falcon? It seems to contribute more to one's personal understanding to be able to focus on what the bird is in its own life and circumstance. For me it has been an ever changing kaleidoscope of experiences within my own current circumstance, whatever that might be. The falcon has been my own way of experiencing the world and every aspect of life comes to me through my own perspective of my falcon. When I lived in this area of Northamptonshire many years ago, before we moved to the village, I lived in a flat in the middle of town and used to fly a Red-headed Merlin out the bathroom window at sparrows on the lawn; also a Lugger falcon mostly for exercise to the lure, only occasionally at quarry. Eventually the thread of my life had led to many different localities and opportunities - an astounding Lannerette, a Black Falcon in the Australian bush, flying a Gyr at pheasant and Partridge at home, a Peregrine and passage Prairie falcon at ducks and Prairie Chickens in the US. Neither was more relevant than the other or more real, they were simply different disciplines, each respectful of the falcon, relevant to my own current circumstance and driven by my own dream of the falcon's life.
The easiest trap to fall into has been imposition of expectation such that the opportunity which is fleetingly available is not seen or appreciated until it is too late. By increasing awareness of what is in the falcons mind in the current circumstance, what is its world, opportunity shows itself and my role in the scene has become apparent. The development of one's sixth sense to this side of things is what seems to make the 'lucky' falconer - the man who can follow his developed instinct and know against all the seeming odds that today he should put the hawk up 'over there' is the man whose hawk develops into one of those 'once in a lifetime' birds - except that for him it is just one of a team of similar performers and not the exception.
My friend was frustrated as he described how for most people they happen upon a hawk at some point where it all comes together and the bird instinctively responds to what for him is simply positive reinforcement of his behaviour. In no time after a few lucky breaks the man has a good hawk and thinks to himself that this is the one bird in his life. When the bird is no more and he is back to square one with the next one he thinks of the one he has lost and as the new one is trying to learn he thinks only of the one which used to do it all so easily. By default he sees his new hawk as a failure as it does not live up to his memory of excellence. His awareness is not sharp enough to see opportunity as it arises in the moment with the result that the new hawk is being negatively reinforced for its efforts. In the man's mind it only confirms the exceptional nature of the 'once in a lifetime' buddy which is no more. The more hawks he tries the more he confirms to himself this picture until in the end he lives out his days going through the motions with some luckless old bird, which happens to fit into his pattern of negativity, always dreaming of that shining period of his life which was his one success.
My friend described how, equipped with instincts honed by wonderful experiences, he dismisses from his mind every other bird he has ever owned or wished to own and focuses wholly upon this creature before him. If there is any doubtful feeling about it or any real desire that it should be a different creature then he stops right then and there. The only thing which is going to work is to get what really absorbs all of him, to work with that which is his own dream as today's reality.
Far from the hawk of a lifetime falconry can be so different just as Blake's poem alerts us!
We had a last pint as they pulled up the shutters, ate the first BBQ of the summer, realised I had not managed to buy even a pair of bells, thanked my hosts, wished my friend good fortune with his new eyass, just hatched a couple of days ago, and with a leisurely drive I arrived home just as the last light disappeared from the western sky. What an enjoyable day, I might go next year?
No comments:
Post a Comment