Eagle Journal

Hello everyone,

I know it sounds like I’m whining about the heat, well, that’s because I’m whining about the heat! 79’ at 6:30am is not a good thing; this could be the end of the world! Ok, well maybe not the end of the world, but with this kind of heat it does make me rethink flying eagles in the summer. I get asked that question a lot and the fact is I tried flying eagles in the winter and found it much too difficult to fly eagles and falcons at the same time. Here in northern California where I live, ducks are the main quarry to fly falcons such as gyr/peregrines at, and the ducks are in one direction and the jack rabbits are in the other. So, someone, either the falcons or the eagles, gets the short end of the stick. The duck hunting season is in the winter, plus falcons will not fly very well in the summer — they don’t like heat either. Jack rabbits, however, can be hunted any time of the year and eagles will hunt in the heat. So, the answer was simple, fly my falcons in the winter and the eagles in the summer. It works out great except when it is this *^%$^%&* hot .sorry.

JH:

I went to the pole field and as I drove up I could see jacks running everywhere, at least 15 moving across the plowed field heading out the far end. I pulled JH out without even wiring him up and headed out after them. JH spotted them right away and launched, flying 300 plus yards to catch up to them and went in and tried to scoop up a jack from behind. Even though he missed, his momentum carried him way up in the air and over the group. JH did a wing-over and slammed into the ground in a cloud of dust. Frankly, he was so far out there I couldn’t tell whether he’d caught one or not. But before the dust cleared JH was on his way back to me so I guess he missed. I hunted my way back towards the truck thinking that I’d much rather be walking in the cooler green hay field than this field from hell .

I figured I’d hunt part with JH and the rest with Widow. I came down off the rail- road track bank, almost falling on my face in the thick weeds, regained my footing and swoosh, the male swainson hawk put on a blistering stoop right past my right ear charming bird! JH does not seem to be bothered by him; not as much as me, that’s for sure.

I had a female golden that I had gotten as an adult and over the years she took many other raptors, red tails and great horned owls being her favorites. This was something she had clearly been doing while in the wild and, I have no doubt, is still doing since her release. She would have taken great exception to Mr. Swainson Hawk and would have flown him down and eaten him — I saw her do that many times to red tailed hawks. She’d fly up into the nearest tree and wait for a thermal to come along, fly straight to it and start to soar. The whole time the red tails would be stooping at her without mercy, and with each stoop she would roll or side-slip them, the whole time gaining height and speed. The second she had the advantage the game changed and the attacker became the hunted. With the eagle being bigger, faster, and many times more powerful, the red tails would suddenly find themselves in a deadly game of cat and mouse. Most of the time the red tails would not immediately realize the danger they were in and would continue to attack the eagle, and as they came in for another stoop they had no idea they were being set up. This huge 14lb female golden eagle would, with surprising quickness and agility, flip over in midair, foot the red tail as it came stooping in, and then go flying off with an adult red tailed hawk in her feet. Now that is something you don’t see every day. Fortunately she would usually land on the side of a hill and allow me to step her off of and release the hysterically terrified red tail hawk (unfortunately not all of them though). Red tails hate eagles and would come from great distances to attack her, and then there we’d go again. Oh, and I could always tell the ones that had lived through the experience, the ones I had released, because they would stay off to the side and just scream .smart birds.

Back to hunting There is an area on the right side of the hay field that Widow does not like because the jacks get out into the open too quickly before she can get up to speed, but JH likes it! The hay fields are laid out in what are called checks which run the length of the entire field. Each section is 60 feet wide edged by a little ridge of dirt to channel the water down in the right direction. I was walking one check over from the end of the field looking for likely spots where a jack could be hiding. I walked back and forth trying not to miss any spots. They are never in the spots that I think look good. Usually I’ll flush one on the way to one of those spots and that was just what happened. I wasn’t even ready. I’d gone from heavy cover into a good sized bare patch when up jumped a jack, running straight away like an arrow. When I say I was not ready, I wasn’t. I gave JH nothing in the way of a good launch; in fact, he almost hit the ground leaving my arm he went so low. But he regained flight and pressed hard, gaining speed, and flew the rabbit down. Nice flight, catching a 6lb jack, bigger than most, with the average weight being around 3.5lbs.

Widow:

Having saved most of the hay field for her I headed out into the middle of the field. I could still see jacks slipping out the back end of the hay field, and I moved quickly to try and head them off. Widow was definitely more interested in hunting today than she was the last time out, but then, I was alone too, so that may have helped. I had basically made a large circle towards the north end of the field and concentrated hunting on the railroad track side of the hay field. This hay field is bordered on the west side with the train tracks and on the east side with a fairly busy road. Widow seems to think she can catch a jack rabbit when it runs out of the hay, across the dry ground, and into the weeds that cover the bank at the bottom of the tracks. The reason I know this is that she shows little interest in rabbits that are in other places, but will fly the ones in this situation. So she has changed her hunting technique once again, from the longer slips where she had some success, to hunting off the bank, to this new one. This has been due, in part, to the jack rabbits having changed their patterns as well; they no longer lope out in the hay field, casually leaving. They now move out with speed and head straight for the fences. And there are fewer jacks hiding along the bank below the train tracks. The ones that are there will not flush out into the open, so Widow has had to change as well. In a way it’s like a watering hole out in Africa; the lions wait close by knowing that the zebras will sooner or later come to drink. Well, I know that the jack rabbits will sooner or later go out into the lush green alfalfa hay to feed.

Widow got more and more interested the closer I got to her new chosen spots. There must be some kind of magical line she has in her mind because as soon as I crossed it she was all business, seriously hunting. A jack exploded 15 ft in front of me and Widow launched, flying with determination. The jack was now running across the dirt leaving a dust trail from behind. Widow was building speed but I could see that the jack rabbit would win this race. The jack disappeared in the weeds just milliseconds before Widow came crashing in behind it. Widow returned with fox tails, straw and dirt stuck in her feathers. We both started to remove them, she with her beak and me, of course, with my fingers.

Ten more feet and, bang, another rabbit was up and heading for the bank, only this time it was a cotton tail, running like it was shot out of a canon with its cotton ball white tail bobbing along from behind. Widow almost turned inside out getting off the fist and almost caught the very small rabbit just before it went down a hole, which is where cotton tails live. There is a hunting season on cotton tails and I have no clue as to when it is but, more than likely, it is not this time of year so I’m glad Widow did not catch it. I don’t hunt cotton tails because they do run down into holes, but have, over the years, caught a number with eagles. They are small and quick, but they must taste good because eagles fly at them harder than anything. I’ve seen female goldens literally throw themselves at the rabbits hole in a last ditch effort to catch the cotton tail before it disappears.

I was drenched in sweat, and Widow was looking for some shade. When an eagle looks for shade, it’s time to call it a day.

Hope all is well,

Joe