Shades of Red

As I was picking my breakfast tomato the rising sun blinded me from the east and from that direction my friend in Moscow came to mind! Perhaps he is already flying his sparrowhawk around his garden? The mailman brought me 'Orientations' and 'Adriaan Mollen', books he had thoughtfully sent me.

In recent correspondence with my friend I had reflected that having been Executive Secretary of IAF for many years I have watched its evolution and growth with much satisfaction.

For many years I was Editor for the British Falconers' Club, first in creating their upgraded Newsletter (controversially introducing advertising and sales) and then the 'Falconer', the club's annual journal. It was all very interesting and great fun, a good preparation for my term as BFC President during which we produced a very large book, free to all members. During this period publishing became available to everybody as technology rapidly evolved.

It is rather sobering to recall that I was first a member of BFC in 1967! A very long apprenticeship in the world of falconry politics, hand in hand with my career in the creation of airfield commercial bird control and industrial bird control I have long appreciated the niceties of differentiation between the art of falconry and the world of commercial raptor use, very hot topics whenever the subject is raised!

When a group of us first got together in the 90's to restructure IAF and move it forward with Christian de Coune then at the helm, onto the path that has today resulted in this vibrant organisation, such things as the recent recognition by UNESCO of the 'Intangible Cultural Heritage of Falconry' were a distant dream. It has been a long journey, attending many conferences, dealing with governments, clubs and individuals from all walks of life, encouraging harmony and optimism. At times hard to resist the inevitable challengers and special interest group agendas it is wonderful to see IAF's integrity enhanced and in tact with its unique credibility in so many areas worldwide.

Last weekend we shot grouse over our setters on East Allenheads in glorious weather, it could not have been more enjoyable. I was watching the sire of my current litter of pups working the beautifully managed heather, still with honey bees working the few remaining blossoms for them to fill the hives lined up in the shelter of the dry stone wall.

Brochan was on the highest part of the moor with a magnificent view across to Muggleswick and Wemmergill, all so refreshing in the crisper northern air after the mildness and almost Mediterranean climate of Norfolk. We lunched in the heather with a few brace in the bag and Andy Ellis speculating about the wolf spider crossing his boot.

Our litter of pups have grown apace and now past the cuddly stage they are starting to become real fun. Each day we now load them all into a kennel and barrow them out to the paddocks, avoiding the distractions of the setters in the yard, and with the cockers to lead and respond to the whistle, their first explorations of this wider world can start. They will soon pick it all up and already it's an adventure looked forward to each day.

Next week sees the official start of the pheasant season when my Peregrines can really start their business. Three of the team have now fitness enough to be high flyers and the fourth is nearly there, I wonder where the pheasants are hiding? They keep eating the wheat I distribute and ducks are coming to the ponds - my farming friend has finished his sowing for another year, the fields become tranquil again but it takes a while for confidence to return. What a wonderful way of life blessed by autumn mists and dew, mushrooms litter the paddock, brilliant afternoon sunshine with long shadows across the lawn reaching for the concrete yard, late afternoon pink glow shining through the open door deep into the mews making the hawks magical with colour on the screen before evening. Some call it an Indian summer but no, it's just Norfolk!

Of Bikes and Mowers

Most days I take a ride around our village on my bicycle. There is something very intimate about a bike that puts me in contact with my environment, sensations that are lost in a car. It's a great way to stay in contact with what is happening in the community, to notice as the seasons change, gardens bloom, lawns are cut. Wildlife seems to accept me on my bike just as it does when on a horse, not so on foot.

Friends who visit often smile as they see me using my bike around the garden but its surprising just how far one has to travel in even a confined area, putting hawks out to weather, feeding poultry, doing stables, checking the paddocks, it all adds up to several miles each day and many years ago I learned that its a great saving on the legs to use my bike. In my experience bikes are like mowers, one ends up with a fleet in which each model has a different job to do. A look in my barn shows we currently have five different mowers, each with a particular role - we fitted a new engine and renovated the 50 years old Ransomes Auto Certes, it is a great delight as it makes the wonderful stripes of a well mown lawn and should now last another 50 years, an old Hayter rotary mower for the rough stuff, a newer JCB rotary for the more civilised areas, a big ride on for the large areas, and then a tractor mounted topper for the paddocks.

I have often wondered just why I find bikes so familiar and reflect on years of their use. When I was at school I did an early morning newspaper round on a very worn out old frame to earn money and buy my first 'proper bike'. At preparatory school my morning journey took me by bus into town followed by a walk of about a mile through the town past an old fashioned bike shop, dank and dusty with that unique smell of rubber and oil familiar to any bike shop. It was a small shop owned by a local biking enthusiast and in those days, not long after the war in the 1950's, when money was short and people were used to making do, there was little stock, the arrival of a new model for sale was quite an event. A Holdsworth, Dawes or Raleigh was something to be inspected and drooled over, feeding a young boys dreams.

Then when I moved to senior school there was another longer walk through Colchester town centre to get to the Grammar School on the other side of town from the bus terminal, again past another, better, more extensive bike shop. At senior school there were of course bike sheds to house a couple of hundred bikes of pupils who rode to school, for some of the boys bikes became a passion. Cycling was not just a sport or pastime it was a necessity for most people and for many it became an absorbing hobby as well.

In later life it seemed second nature to carry on. My old bike was still with me when we were married but the temptation and dream of the bike shop window became possible at last. I bought a duo of Claud Butlers, one for me and one for Jenny, nearly forty years ago now and they still delight me. Today my favourite bike still lives in my barn to take me on my frequent rides around the village. In subsequent years we accumulated a couple more, a mountain bike to cope with the garden and fields, then another that had some suspension but it soon broke and now hangs from the rafters awaiting repair. There is seemingly always something in the barn being renovated.

As we have aged the sport has become more interesting and now with satellite TV we can watch the big European tours all summer - how wonderful that in this era our British cyclists have won the most famous race, the 'Tour de France', two years running. The Giro d'Italia, opens the season and the Spanish Vuelta is near the close at the end of summer, we have just watched its finish and autumn is now here, hawks are on the lawn. Funny, mowers never seemed to get a sporty side but the seemingly ageless technology seems to hold a fascination of its own. Most women don't seem to get that somehow?

Peach Peregrine

Many years ago when I was a small boy the early TV gardening program on BBC was called Gardeners World and Percy Thrower had the whole viewing audience amazed as he was able for the first time to show people gardening ideas from his lifetime's experience. Almost another universe from today's slick shows but it brought a world of wonder and exotica to the average person.

John Wayne in one of his many westerns shared his cowboy's love for canned peaches which he intended to satisfy when he got off the trail, a love which I have shared for more than half a century now. When Percy Thrower planted a peach tree against a sheltered brick wall I was enthralled to think we could actually grow them in this country. The variety he healed into the soft loam was 'Peach Peregrine', quite the best variety available he assured us and the fireworks exploded in my mind, another variety of Peregrine! What could be better?

A few years ago I happened upon the framework for a large Poly-tunnel and with the help of some visiting Belgian and Greek falconers collecting a tiercel we erected it unexpectedly on the spur of the moment to the south side of the barn in a sheltered position. It became an amazing addition to our life and in the first autumn the local garden centre had some bare rooted fruit trees on offer, low and behold there was Peach Peregrine!

To say that it has thrived would in no way describe the immense joy it brings. From the early flowers in February, protected in the sheltered environment of our poly-tunnel we hand pollinate with the aid of a peregrine's primary, what else? Through until late July and August when the fruit ripen it has been a constant source for optimism. Last month we held an evening BBQ for local falconers and friends, what better opportunity to use some of the abundant fruit. Jenny cooked them and in a bowl of cinnamon juice, with added cream and ice cream what could be better for a group of Longwingers, peach Peregrine desert!