Death of a friend

Jenny and I are much saddened in hearing that Vic Hardaswick has died, a man who did so much for falconry over many years. 

It was with his partner Don Hunter that I first saw what accomplished Gyrs can do in falconry when handled with understanding and sympathetic management. Don showed us a Jerkin waiting on as a twinkling speck with concentration, loyalty and aerial style in mastery of any quarry, awesome to see from a creature of such charismatic beauty and presence. I was captivated when twenty five years ago captive breeding of hawks was quite new and it was Vic who bred and imprinted my first Jerkin. 

When the Jerkin came to me in England he never disappointed either in the field or as a charming character in home life and the breeding chamber. Over following years Gyrfalcons were constant members of our team, their humour and unmatchable flying ability often combined to amuse and astound, demanding attention in our relationships emotionally draining and fulfilling far beyond other aspects of our art.
Clearly Vic put so much into his falcons and my Jerkin showed me just how accomplished he was as somebody trusted in his creations. By his individual talent Vic contributed much to my falconry in subsequent years for which I will always be grateful. 

It was my good fortune to have known such a fine man. I feel loss of a friend tonight whilst appreciative that all of falconry is much indebted for his contribution in many ways over many years. All falconers have much to celebrate in his being and all are the poorer for his passing. 

Thank you Vic, even though you have left us you are still giving me pleasure today, there is still a Jerkin amusing us in my team.

Off to do life now.

As the day approaches for pups to go to their new homes everything gets a little tense, not least because the moment of choice arises when we have to finally commit to one of the litter. It's not easy to select one over another other than by sex of course. When we used to be a little more commercial about it all and sold the whole litter we only had to concern ourselves with making sure clients were satisfied and no mishaps occurred before collection. Today we breed less often as we are really only producing a litter to retain a youngster for ourselves to follow on and keep the line going. Its quite amazing just how complicated that process gets since to have a trained and reliable dog at any given time means in our case that we usually have several dogs, a youngster for three years being trained, one or two that are field trialing with Steve, a mature dog to work with hawks and who will also produce the next generation, and then one or two pensioners.

Our 'pack' is a constant delight but choosing the new addition seems to become increasingly difficult as the years go by. Maybe it's experience that introduces more and more things to be considered which in the early days blissful ignorance hid from awareness.

Modern food and maintenance seems to make all the pups fairly even and breeding seems to have eliminated many of the physical problems so that today choice mostly comes down to character. Many hours of observation over the eight weeks of rearing and weaning is the secret but even then it always seems like a risk in the end.

Somebody once said to me that a fishing rod and a pigeons wing helps, somehow it stuck and is now one of the routines that we do in the last week when we take the litter around the paddocks with the spaniels. This year our recent trip to the moors provided a more appropriate grouse wing, they all enjoyed it from the first appearance and it never seems less enjoyable to have a whole litter on point!

Steve arrived on time soon after breakfast and took four of the pups north to their new homes leaving us with just one bitch who was a little surprised to find herself sitting alone on the bales in the kennel wondering where the rest had gone? But all reports have been good - Ken sent a message to say he arrived home in the Isle of Man and was sitting reading 'The Field' with his pup asleep on his lap feeling 'heaven' had arrived.