Pitiful. It was the only way to describe the condition of this wild red tail hawk. Covered with parasites, emaciated from lack of food, this bird was just hours away from death. In my gloved hands I’m holding a fatigued, lifeless body. I’m debating whether to end this poor creature’s struggle. Putting him down would be the obvious decision to end its suffering.
But that’s when I saw it. Those eyes. Fierceness was glaring from its eyes. The fierceness it takes to come alive!
Just another normal day here in Westcliffe, Colorado. Normal until the phone call from a good friend. Mike tells me that his dog just caught a hawk. He wanted to know if I would want it.
Mike knows I am a master falconer. I’ve flown birds of prey for 25 years. I’ve never hunted with a hawk caught by a dog, though. Either that dog can jump high and fast, or this bird is near death.
New falconer-raptor pairings create excitement. We normally trap a wild bird of prey to begin our journey and relationship together. Falconers take a wild bird and within less than a day the bird will eat from the falconer’s hand. “Manning” involves birds of prey learning their human partners bring no harm but share in the adventure of coexisting with this majestic creature for a period.
Staci and I arrived at Mike’s with anticipation and a bit of dread. Nature can be cruel. Remember her number-one rule. It’s the survival of the fittest. When an animal in the wild gets hurt, sick, or diseased, it must overcome whatever has befallen it. Or well, survival of the fittest.
We take the hawk home. Staci and I are both concerned about this hawk’s condition. I’m an outdoorsman and an avid hunter. Strange as it may seem to some, I have a tender heart as well. I want to help this bird. This hawk can’t even struggle to get away from me. It just sits lifeless in my lap.
I have prepared small bits of raw chicken soaked in water to feed the hawk. Hopefully he will eat, but his listlessness is giving me worry. He doesn’t even hold his wings up. They fall droopingly by his side. The hawk has a damaged wing. The last four primary feathers are gone. Losing this many feathers will cause any bird of prey to not be able to stoop, maneuver, and most importantly, fly to safety.
What happened to him? Most likely he got sick and weakened so much that he couldn’t hunt. Birds of prey have to hunt to survive. They eat meat. They don’t eat a salad! Once he got in such awful shape that he can’t hunt, his condition became critical.
I carry his exhausted body to the mews built by me for my birds used in falconry. It’s a fenced-in pen where he (hopefully) can one day fly around. It won’t be today.
Jesses and anklets go around the hawk’s legs. Then, jesses and anklets attach to a leash. Picture your dog with a collar and a leash. In the same way, I can then control this hawk to stay near me and perhaps on my glove, like all other wild hawks I’ve caught over the last 25 years.
Poor bird doesn’t even resist my fumbling fingers placing the anklets on him. He’s in terrible shape. A healthy red-tailed hawk will weigh from 2 to 4 pounds. His weight showing on my scales as I weigh him: just over a pound. This is bad. But there’s something worse. He’s covered with flat flies and bird lice. Strange how in nature parasites can appear from nowhere and find the weakest of the weak.
The parasites have already damaged many of his feathers beyond repair. Feathers on his breast and belly that normally provide warmth are half eaten away by parasites.
Seeing the lice and flat flies crawling over him causes me to recoil. I’ve accidentally had bird lice and flat flies crawl onto me before when handling birds. It’s more than a creepy feeling. Even now, I’m itching under my hat, on my arm, on the back of my ear. Whether it’s just my imagination or a parasite, stripping and a shower before I enter my home is in order.
I set the hawk on the ground. He collapses into a ruffled bundle of feathers. He attempts to spread his wings in a defensive posture. Instead of presenting a scary spread-eagle stance, he exhibits all his damaged feathers. Instead of displaying a dangerous set of talons, he rests on his side with his talons flailed out helplessly in front of him.
A calm and reassuring voice is about all I can contribute. He gets a gentle nudge from me to position him in an upright position. He will probably not survive. But those eyes. The fierceness in his eyes.
The hawk doesn’t move as I sit on the ground next to him. Still scratching my beard from possible parasites, I reach out with a morsel of food. Gently I place the piece of chicken in its mouth. Hawks instinctively open their mouths when they are on the defensive. He’s too weak to bite me as I placed the meat in his mouth. For a few moments, neither of us moved. I then gently force the meat into the back of his mouth.
It’s up to him now. He will not receive nourishment if he refuses to swallow. I can do only so much for him.
He swallows! Thank ya Lord! He swallowed the morsel of food! It’s hard to tell whether he realized I was feeding him. It’s probably just an impulse to swallow when there is food being crammed down your throat.
I pushed three more bits of meat down his throat. Then we call it a night. Forcing more on the first day would not benefit him. His body may not digest his meal. He could go into shock. A step forward, yet many potential issues loom.
It was a restless night with little sleep as I waited for the morning light to arrive. What scene would unfold when I arrive at his pen? Half expecting a dead bird, half expecting a hawk lying unconscious, I entered with a bowl full of cut-up pieces of chicken. There he stood! He remained motionless as I sat down beside him. I couldn’t help but talk soothingly to him. A bit of joy swelled up within me as he blinked twice, trying to focus on me. Again, those eyes reveal something more than just to exist from within this bird of prey.
I placed a piece of meat within an inch of his beak and remained motionless to see his response. An immeasurable amount of joy brought a smile to my face when the hawk bit the meat from my glove and swallowed it.
Quickly now I place bits of meat close to his beak. Just as quickly he devours them. We are on the right path, going in the right direction now.
This hawk, on the second day of our journey, has gone from near-comatose to having a 50 percent chance of survival.
Day three was interesting. When I arrived at daylight to give him food, he had somehow crawled his way to a limb sitting on the dirt. He was using this as a perch. One more sign that he was returning from the dead. I placed a tasty piece of meat in front of him. With lightning speed, he reached out with his talons and clawed my gloved hand.
You’ve heard the expression, “hurt people hurt people”? Well, hurt hawks hurt people as well. This was a wonderful reaction from this hawk, though. The alertness in his eyes was now accompanied with a defensive snatch of my glove. Good, he’s now aware of his surroundings.
One fascinating truth that falconers understand when training their hawks; don’t look at them. Only look at them using your peripheral vision. It’s best to see them from the side, not from the front. See in the wild, if a hawk is looking at another animal and the animal is looking straight back, one of them is getting eaten. Kill or be killed.
I don’t want this hawk to feel uncomfortable. I want him to relax. Over the next several days, he becomes conditioned to my movements.
His diet that he’s being fed will always comprise meat. I vary the types of meat to give him various sources of minerals, vitamins, and most of all energy.
After seven days, his condition had improved tremendously. He even steps towards me to grab a bite of meat. This is important as it shows he’s trusting me.
Why haven’t I named him, you ask? I didn’t want to jinx his progress from the grasp of death. My son shared with me that his name ought to be Lazarus.
The Bible tells of Lazarus rising from the dead. It seemed fitting, so Lazarus it is.
Lazarus became accustomed to me. Suspiciously, it would take him a moment, but then he would hop to me. His damaged wing prevented him from flying long distances. He eventually would flap five or six times to propel himself awkwardly to my glove holding his meal.
Because of his damaged wing, I could not release Lazarus back into the wild. He would need new feathers. Hawks molt their feathers late in the summer. I committed to rehab Lazarus into the next year then release him.
Hawks are not pets. They remain wild. Even when falconers catch and use them to hunt, they automatically return to their wild way of life when released. Licenses and various permits are required to possess a bird of prey. This keeps you and them safe. Let me repeat: they are not pets.
A bond grew between Lazarus and me. I want to say it was affection or a bond of love. You need to understand, though, that in my falconry career I have had several hawks and owls. They view their human partner as a refrigerator. The hawk that is being used in the sport of falconry is free to fly away if it so chooses. The hawk realizes, though, that I have a chicken leg in my pocket. When we are on a hunt, if we don’t have success chasing a rabbit or squirrel, he knows I will call him in for a KFC raw chicken leg treat!
The bond between Lazarus and me was truly from love. At least from my point of view. Lazarus taught me so much about life. He became a way for me to understand spiritual matters.
Think about this. Two entirely different creatures, a hawk and a man, form a bond and share life with each other. Reminds me of two other creatures. God and me. The mystery is immense, but somehow a Holy, all-powerful God brings me back from the dead and creates a bond with me. Because of His love.
Did Lazarus love me?
I was sitting at the other end of the pen after feeding Lazarus a belly full one day. This was about a month after we began our journey (and relationship) together. It was basically just a quiet time for me. You’ve had these quiet times if you’ve got pets or animals. Whether it’s your horse, dog, cat, or even the chickens, haven’t you had a reflective time just being around them?
Here’s what I will never forget. There’s even a selfie to prove it. Lazarus, a wild red tail hawk, was pretty much dead. Because of me, he gets a new lease on life. Lazarus and I sharing moments brought immense joy. What exhilarated me the most was when Lazarus flew within inches of me and landed on his perch. He did it on impulse, without prompting. I will forever say because I felt it in my soul, that Lazarus flew over to me as if to say, “Hey thanks friend.”
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18
See Ya! Dan Ainsworth, wilderness preacher, and falconer
Next month’s blog….. The release of Lazarus back into the Wild! stay tuned
