by Jana Barkley
Hank’s voice came from behind her, reminding her of his annoying habit of appearing from out of nowhere and jumping into conversations. “We were going to put the red tail out on the creance and maybe fly him free today.”
Tasha must have gotten what she wanted, for she glowed under his attention. Trapped between the two of them, Sam might as well have been invisible. Both were tall, and their conversation took place somewhere above her head.
“How many weeks have you had her?” Tasha directed this to Hank, not Sam.
Sam glanced at Mary Kate, who narrowed her eyes and gave her a subtle nod.
“Sam’s had him since mid-October.” His voice was blunt and matter-of-fact, but Tasha went on talking as if they were dear friends.
“A male! And she hasn’t flown it free, yet? Ah, well…” It was a meaningful silence, and something about the way she said “male” made Sam bristle.
“I have an apprentice, too. He’s already out hunting with his female red tail. She’s only pulled fur so far, but she’s very close to catching a jack.”
Karen beamed, clueless to the undertones of what was going on. “That’s great, Tasha.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you. Please, fly the red tail. It’s always fun to see newcomers take that first big step.” She allowed her gaze to fall on Sam.
As scary as it was to take your heart in your hands and cut your first hawk loose in the hope it would return when you called, Sam had been eager for Chance’s first free flight. She had bolstered her courage, knowing if Chance flew off, she could count on all of them to get out their telemetry and help her search. Everything in her screamed in protest at flying him now. This pretentious, uncaring woman, no matter how charming she tried to be, was not part of her group. She could imagine the comments coming out of that pretty mouth if she did lose Chance, and she didn’t have the stomach for it. Anger over a lost opportunity to fly Chance free for the first time with Hank there made her color. And, of course, whenever an angry or embarrassed blush took over her fair complexion, Sam felt worse.
Choking on disappointment, she said. “Not today. Maybe tomorrow.”
Mary Kate gave her a strong, questioning look.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Karen said. “It’s all right, Sam. You’ll know when the time is right.”
“The longer you wait, though, the more trouble you’ll have. Aren’t I right, Hank?” Again, Tasha didn’t even bother to acknowledge Sam.
To hell with both of them, she thought, making ready to stomp off to the SUV until Hank’s voice stopped her.
“I agree with Sam. She knows her hawk better than any of us. When he’s ready, she’ll know.”
Sam felt a slow, warming energy drift up her back, making her aware of him behind her. Something in the way he had supported her decision was more heartening than anything he’d ever said to her before. Sam turned in half-astonishment but found Hank had already walked back to his SUV.
“Well, Chelsea, darlin’, you’re on deck.” Mary Kate jumped in with her endearing flair, ending any further speculation about Sam’s red tail.
Sam stalked back to her vehicle and flung the rear door open to let fresh air into the giant hood that faced outward. Cracking the Velcro strap fastener, she pulled a corner of the flexible door out and glanced in. Large golden eyes and a curious expression greeted her. Chance was content to be there, but he was also interested in what was going on outside. Anger because he had to wait another day to fly and how unfair this was to him made her simmer.
“I know of another field up the road.” His voice was quiet, almost as if he were trying to speak so only she could hear.
She took a moment to rein in the impulse to lash out at him before she met his eyes. “Aren’t you going to watch Chelsea’s red tail with everyone else?”
An intense anger contorted his face. “Would you rather do what everyone else wants at the expense of what’s best for your bird?”
“Look, I’m capable of doing this on my own—” Her stubborn irritation was cut short when she saw his energy soften.
He shook his head and looked down, struggling in silence before he spoke. “Never put other people’s desires before what’s best for your bird, Sam.”
She dropped her head, ashamed.
“I have a feeling you’re going to do well with this boy, but you’ve got to quit second-guessing yourself.”
How did he know her so well? She searched his face. He was no longer angry, but he was watching her.
“You have every right to put Chance first. And I know you were angry.”
Sam’s hackles started to flare again in protest but the little laugh he gave almost in spite of himself stopped her. He’d stuffed his hands in his front jeans pockets and, but for the maturity of his face, seemed the picture of a sheepish twenty-year old.
She heaved a heavy sigh. “Well, where’s this field? Point me in the right direction, and I’ll go fly him.”
Hank was startled. He pressed his lips together hard as he glanced down. “Would you mind if I came with you?”
“You? Well, sure. I just thought you would want to be with…” She bit back the words.
He searched her face and then turned to lean one arm up against the open back of the SUV. “But you are my apprentice.”
Sam thought she understood him. “I know you feel like you should be there…” How could she tell him she didn’t want to rush this first flight so he could get back to the others? She hesitated and watched them milling around Chelsea and her hawk.
“Sam?” He was watching her, trying to figure something out, then turned and sat next to her on the back of her vehicle. “I don’t care if we take all afternoon to fly this boy. It’s his right—and yours. I would like to be there because I want to be there.”
She could see Tasha talking with Karen and John, but it was obvious from her furtive glances she was curious about the exchange between her and Hank.
Hank was oblivious to the others. His face was inscrutable again, but his voice was unchanged. He prodded like a good teacher should. “So, what’s it going to be, Sam?”
He was right. Meeting his eyes with new strength and determination, she nodded. “Let’s do this.”
“Good girl.” He grinned that disarming smile again and turned to walk to his rig. He called back, “You follow me, okay?”
Sam waved in response and smiled in spite of her nerves. She closed the back hatch and climbed into her vehicle without bothering to see how the others were reacting to what Hank was telling them.
Good girl: it was the second time he had called her that today. Most women she knew would take offense from such a remark. But how could she? There was such approval and good humor in it, as if he knew he was crossing some line that was okay to trespass with close friends. Maybe she was reading too much into it, but she allowed herself to enjoy the thrill such familiarity with him gave her.
Fledge: A young hawk’s first free flight
Chapter Seventeen
Hank led her three miles down the road to a similar field and pulled off the pavement. “This feels like a good place,” he said as she got out. His eyes squinted, scanning the horizon. Sam opened the back of her SUV and began assembling her gear. He watched her with a hint of amusement, picturing her rehearsing this routine in her mind a hundred thousand times, but he knew it wouldn’t make it any easier. Her hands shook as she strapped on her hawking vest.
He’d kept an eye on her in his rear view mirror as she followed him out to this other field, proud of the way she had chosen not to let Tasha bulldoze her and amused as hell at how pissed off she had gotten. He watched her now with curious eyes and a heightened need to protect her. It was very important to him she succeed, though he couldn’t begin to understand why.
“Do you have telemetry?” He asked as he joined her at the back of her vehicle.
“Yes, a transmitter. But I’m not sure how to use it if we have to go looking for him.” The strong, do-it-herself attitude he had b
ecome accustomed to seeing in her wavered, and he felt compelled to reassure her.
“Not to worry. Let’s put it on him, just in case. If we have to use it, I’ve got my receiver. What’s the frequency?”
He watched her falter, trying to remember. It was all he could do to keep from smiling as she fumbled around looking for the paperwork that came with her transmitter.
“It’s here somewhere…”
He couldn’t stand it anymore. In a gentle motion, Hank reached over and took the papers from her. He was grinning. She sighed, exasperated.
“Everybody goes through this the first time. You’ll get through it, too. And this time next year, you’ll be doing it all by yourself and wondering what all the anxiety was about.”
He sensed a change come over her, which struck him as odd. It was as if a veil had descended between them, a protective barrier that let him see in but only to a certain extent. Her frequent changes in demeanor fascinated and frightened him. Instinct told him to go gently here, something great and terrible might lurk beneath this surface, no matter how amiable or attractive she appeared. And then her blue eyes were on him, searching. He sensed fear, which was understandable since she was about to fly her hawk free for the first time, but he knew there was more. He’d normally be inclined to dig and confront whatever he didn’t understand or trust, but his ability to feel into his birds to learn what it took to earn their trust urged him forward softly, to ask and not demand. He knew in a flash she was like any wild thing that needed to learn to trust him before her barriers would come down.
He kept his voice calm and quiet. “Here we go: 216.035. I’ll go dial the frequency into my receiver, and we’ll check it out.” He walked back to his rig and returned with the gun-like device and its collapsible antenna. The distinctive beep sounded strong and clear. Satisfied, he shut it off and laid it in the back of her SUV.
Sam looked lost as she adjusted her hawking vest. Most of these hunting vests came only in men’s sizes, and even the smallest made Sam look tiny. Still, he had to admit, she made even that look good.
She looked up at him and smiled weakly. “It’s the first time I’ve worn this. I’m accustomed to using a fanny pack to hide tidbits when Chance plays ‘chase me’ at the park.”
“How’s his lure response?” Hank prodded, trying to make her focus more on the flight at hand than her discomfort.
She showed him the simple leather pod she had sewn together with strings attached to tie the meat. “At first he shied away from it,” she explained, “until he saw the big piece of meat attached to it.”
Hank grinned, nodding.
“He’s been coming to it like gangbusters now for a week.”
Her smile threw him for a minute and he fought the old urge to be gruff and put some space between them.
“Fine,” he said decisively as he turned to survey the field. “We’ll walk him out to the middle, about there.” He pointed.
“What about the creance?”
The look on her face as the realization her hawk was going to be free in mere moments charmed him, and he couldn’t fight the humor stealing over his face. “Just get him out of the box,” he said, “and let’s check him out.”
Sam frowned but obeyed. Chance came out like a gentleman. He bobbed his head left and right, taking in the field in every direction to get his bearings.
Hank stood back and watched the bird’s behavior with his arms crossed for a moment, and then motioned ahead. “Let’s go.” He walked to her right side and watched as they moved. Thirty yards out, he stopped her and reached in to feel Chance’s keel, all the while monitoring the bird’s response to him. An approving nod told Sam this was it.
“Creance or no?” she asked.
Hank gave her a shrewd look and threw it back at her. “What do you think?”
Sam frowned. “I think he’s ready, but…I’m worried.”
Hank glanced around and pointed to a dead tree lying on its side nearby. It was about four feet off the ground at its highest point. “Back him up onto that snag, like it’s his perch, and then see if he’ll jump the length of his leash to your glove.”
Chance jumped to the perch and turned toward her. She uncoiled the leash and stepped back its full length, holding up the glove as she had done a thousand times. The hawk didn’t even wait for the whistle. He jumped, pouncing on her glove for the hidden tidbit.
“Well?” she asked.
Her look was priceless and there he was grinning like an idiot again. He’d seen enough from the hawk’s behavior to know what was going to happen, but it was sweet to relish her reactions, knowing she was going to be a very happy falconer in a few seconds.
“Take the equipment off and let that boy fly.”
He watched her take a deep breath and felt himself tense in sympathy. No matter how experienced a falconer was, the first free flight of a new bird always left your guts tied up in knots until you saw them flying back to you. Uncertain and awkward, she undid all of his gear and removed it except for one jess.
“Clip in to the loop of that jess so he’s attached to your glove.”
She did as he instructed, and paused.
“When you’re ready…” he urged in a soft voice, not needing to say more because she knew what came next.
Hank stayed silent, watching Sam reach up with a shaking hand to remove the last physical connection she had with her hawk.
The jess slipped out, and she put it with its mate in her hunting vest. Chance appeared content to stay on the glove, unaware of his new freedom.
“Cast him down toward the dead tree again.”
Sam raised her glove and moved it with a swinging motion toward the tree. Chance seemed confused and gripped the glove, so she took him closer, and he jumped to it.
“Let’s head out.” Hank walked into the field, stopping momentarily for Sam, who trotted up next to him like a lost spaniel who kept turning her head back because something was missing. They stopped about twenty feet away and turned. “Call him in.”
Chance didn’t hesitate. The moment he alighted on her garnished glove a wash of relief colored her face and she looked to Hank.
He couldn’t stop smiling, he was so proud of her. “Well done. Let’s keep going, get him used to moving with us in the field.” They walked on with Chance riding her fist. A few minutes later, he lifted up on his own and landed in a fir tree at the edge of the field. Sam’s panicked eyes flew to Hank.
“No worries. This is how the red tail hunts. Watch him. If he turns to look at you, then he’s good. If he acts more interested in something else and he’s getting the idea of taking off, we’ll call him in with the lure.”
Sam eased down a little.
“We’re going to walk around this tree like we’re flushing game for him, which is what we’ll do in the future when he’s at hunting weight.”
Hank stomped around the tree in a big circle, clapping his hands to flush jackrabbits, and Sam did too. Chance was watching them with interest. But after ten minutes of trying to flush prey, nothing bounced up.
“That’s fine, Sam. He’s only at flying weight now. In order for a hawk to hunt, we need to put a little more edge to his appetite so he’ll commit to the chase. Today we’re only going to call him back and let him fly a bit. Go ahead and call him down.”
Sam raised her glove, which had a tiny tidbit hidden in it, and whistled, her expression both nervous and hopeful. Chance scanned the field, and then down he swooped from the tree to her glove, the prettiest sight she’d ever seen to judge by the look on her face.
Hank moved out again, urging Sam to keep up with him. This time Chance flew to another tree ahead.
“This is good, Sam. He’s learning to follow on. This is what you want him to do in the field. As you walk on, he should be flying with and ahead of you, ready to chase what you flush. See how smart this rascal is and how fast he learns?”
How long had it been since he’d seen the same look on an apprentice’s face? She w
as completely in love with this bird. Then before he could stop it, another apprentice’s first flight barged in, threatening to steal this bright moment.
Tasha’s commitment to her hawk had never been an issue. She had marveled at the exquisite joy of flying her first hawk too. And he had loved every gesture, glance and expression on her face. Yet even back then the first clouds of trouble had colored the experience. They’d had one of their earliest arguments that morning—he couldn’t even remember over what. And it hadn’t been until that first flight was over before they’d been able to talk again.
He looked again at Sam’s joy and Chance contentedly picking his talons clean of meat on her glove. Something inside him wanted to know everything there was to know about her. Her fears, hopes, how she spent her time when not working with Chance. It took some effort for him to speak again, not wanting to let this moment go.
“We’re not going to push this too far today. Since it’s his first time, let’s reward his good behavior with the lure. The size of that chunk of meat you have on it is reinforcement; it tells him you are the source of all good things so that he’ll keep coming back to you. Go ahead—toss him up toward the trees again.”
Chance flew up and ahead to land in an oak, ready for whatever came next. Sam pulled out the leather pod and began to swing it and whistle. It was obvious Chance loved his lure, for he barreled out of the tree and made for the leather pod with such gusto even Hank laughed. Sam plopped it down in a clump of overgrown oat grass, and Chance pounced on it.
As Sam kneeled and offered small tidbits to prove she was not going to take his reward away and so he would welcome her approach, Hank knew she’d done everything right training this little hawk. To his shame, he realized she’d done it without him there to tell her how to do it. Pushing past this sense of guilt, he urged her on.
“While he’s on the lure, see if he’ll let you reach in and clip on to one of his anklets.”
As Sam reached in, Chance yanked his foot away from her. On her second attempt, he held still while picking at the lure. This time she clipped on.