She hunched with infinite patience by squirrels’ dreys, waiting for the tiniest movement that might betray the occupants, ready to exercise her beak and talons at a moment’s notice. Plunging through the bone-white branches, she took down a squirrel with instinctive, practiced ease. At times as we moved through the woods she would saunter along with us, eschewing the trees for a ground-level view. It was rather like walking a wolf. As the paths turned us back toward our starting point, she hopped onto Gentry’s fist and rode there companionably at intervals during the journey back. The two were silhouetted in the early evening light, a partnership of thousands of years. Part of Hawk Manor Falconry’s business involves bird abatement. The nuisance of pigeons or starlings in urban areas, warehouses and suburban lots is entirely dissipated by Gentry’s raptors. “There’re other bird deterrent companies out there. I’m the only one using birds of prey. “Most people you can call and they’ll throw corn that’s laced with a chemical that will kill the pigeons … They’ll sell you noise-makers and fake owls and all that kind of stuff. But I’ve got pictures of fake owls with pigeons sitting on them. You’ll never see a pigeon sitting on my real owl.” After working with Gentry, clients who have been plagued by birds find that years go by without the problem returning. “So it works,” said Gentry, laughing ruefully. “That’s not always that good for me because I’d love for them [clients] to say, ‘Let’s do a yearly contract.’” Education programs, demonstrations and corporate work make up other parts of an astonishingly multi-faceted business. Gentry travels to schools and daily welcomes parties at his mews for in-depth falconry experiences. If a client wants a talking point at their cocktail party, they can rent a raptor as live art. When Eli isn’t busy hunting, he’ll swoop down the aisle at weddings and deliver the rings. And then there is the hunting. The reason we were all there that day, and Gentry’s raison d’être: “I love the hunting part of the sport. Love it. And that’s really where the backbone of what I do came from and where the base of it is.” High up on a hickory branch, Payton spotted movement. She concentrated her vision, bobbing her head in a murderous figure-eight movement. A squirrel made a break from its nest and fled for the refuge of a neighboring tree. The hawk followed, a talon’s length behind. This time the squirrel had the advantage of reconnaissance. It shot up a hollow tree trunk and stayed there. The sporting thing to do was to leave it alone. “They know the rules,” said Gentry of both raptor and quarry. “It’s a level playing field because they’ve got as much chance of getting away as they do of getting caught.” This extends to any other animal he might choose to hunt with the birds: game birds, rabbits and other small game. Evening was drawing in. It had been a splendid afternoon’s sport. We had bagged two squirrels and one had eluded us, not counting the many others who had hidden themselves away. Gentry allowed us to feed the hawks, giving us the opportunity to witness their majestic lines close up, to feel their weight on the glove and the lethal grip of their sinewy feet. The sun had dropped low behind the hills and the trees were turning purple-grey. The hawks flew from glove to glove, eating rapaciously, exuding the savage quality that makes them so compelling. After a few years Gentry releases his wild-caught birds back into the wild. “Red-tailed Hawks in the wild have almost a 90 percent mortality rate their first year of life . . . And the four main causes of death: People shoot them, they get electrocuted, they get hit by cars, and they starve because of lack of habitat. Those causes of death have one thing in common, and that’s us. So when I take birds out of the wild my thought process is, ‘This bird wasn’t going to live much longer,’ and statistically I’m probably right. “So after we teach them how to hunt very effectively and efficiently . . . we keep them three, four, five years — whatever the case may be — I’ll take her and I’m going to release her back to the wild someplace I feel confident she’s going to be safe . . . That’s kind of one thing that I feel like I’m giving back to the sport, maybe. It gives me so much.” PS PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . February 2016
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