Time for a story which might or might not have happened and illustrates how a lifetimes work can simply run down the gutter….

Rottler was a hybrid falcon, a cross between a desert Saker falcon and a Peregrine falcon. She started life being produced by a well known captive breeder, who for logistical reasons hand reared her. After an unscheduled visit to the breeder to see some other stock, the falconer felt sorry for and attracted toward this rather noisy, mentally challenged chick so decided to buy her!

The falconer ran a small rural business, etching a living from one of the worlds oldest profession, Falconry. Using the remnant’s of a bygone era, he en devoured to maintain a lively hood using knowledge accumulated over a life’s study. Gone were the halcyon days of providing sport for kings and gentry. The modern professional falconer needed several strings to his bow, including performing with his birds in the summer months and hunting with clients during the long hard Scottish Winter.

Rottler joined the existing team of falcons, Hawks, Eagles and Owl’s to commence her training.
Her formative years at the falconry were varied, from hunting rooks and crows with clients in the winter to performing at the odd display around the country in the summer months.
Thousands of hours went from turning this rather demented screaming devil, into a sleek and sophisticated hunting machine who could also wow crowds with her amazing displays of flight and power. At three years of age she laid her first egg, and to encourage natural behavior the falconer swapped her infertile eggs for ones donated by another falcon of which she hatched a reared 3 chicks. So Rottler now not only provided the falconer with income hunting in the winter, income displaying at shows in late summer and rearing surplus babies in the spring!

This was becoming one special bird…

Having now experienced ten’s of thousands of hours in the hunting field, show arena and breeding chamber she was literally worth her weight in gold!

At 6 years of age she started to demonstrate how clever she was to become as a hunter, and would exhibit all manner of tactic and intelligence when it came to catching her quarry.
She would fly along side moving cars in open area’s to get close to sitting flocks of Rooks, swinging off and over the vehicle at the last moment to reek terror..
Or swing off down wind to disappear for 20 minutes, only to return like a speck in the heavens above he quarry and deliver a 200mph cleaving stoop and Scythe her victim from the group.
But her final education made her the most special..

If she was released with no quarry present, she learned that we would be walking up Game such as Pheasant/ Partridge or flushing off a pond full of Duck (her favorite) and would quickly climb in tight circles above us

In her career she accounted for hundreds of head of Corvid’s, as well as all manner of game birds including Grouse, Black Grouse, Widgeon, Potchard, Pintail, Mallard, Teal, Pheasant,Grey Partridge, Red legged Partridge and one very unlucky Woodcock!

At 9 years old she had reached the peak of perfection in every way, and half a lifetimes care, attention and training had gone into this falconers “tool of the trade”.

A wonderful bird, with an interesting story which deserves a happy ending,

On a cold February morning a group of guests arrived at the falconers Mews, an aged cottage on a rundown old sporting estate. Having enjoyed the flight and interaction with several birds already it was decided to fly Rottler for last time that season before she went once more into her breeding chamber for the spring.

She left the falconers fist with purpose that day to climb into a tempestuous sky, she turned and track back toward the falconers lure at speeds which said, “I really want this”. A pass and miss, a pass and miss, before her wing beat changed and she seemed to drop a gear heading off in a long sloping stoop toward a distant wood?
A second later a single shotgun shot was heard??
By means of the radio transmitter she was wearing, the falconer followed her signal to the wood, it suggested it’s range was now only a matter of yards, when suddenly the signal moved out of the wood, and the falconer saw a person jogging quickly toward a 4wd vehicle parked across the field.

As he jumped in, started it up and drove away the transmitted signal followed him, and realization dawned on the falconer that this man had his bird!

The falconer called for a backup vehicle, and gave chase but too much time had been lost and the signal lost too.

The falconer searched and searched for his precious bird, with no luck until he spotted the Guy in the 4wd returning to the wood. He challenged the guy who said he had not seen the bird and had no idea what was being talked about???

That night, the falconer scoured the wood where the last signal from the bird had emanated and found distinct under covert wing feathers which belonged to his precious bird. It wasn’t the moulting season and the Falcon would not have dropped these feathers, they had come away from the host due to trauma……

By means of DNA materials already stored on the bird, it was possible to link these feathers with Rottler.

The next day the falconer was visited by the Hunter from the wood, who rather sheepishly admitted to shooting the bird and dumping her body in a river along the road.

What a sad end to a noble bird, what a waste of time and experience of such a prestigious falconry bird and how missed a lifelong friend?

A bird such as this one comes along once in a falconers lifetime, and really is one in a million.

The man who shot her turned out to be a new gamekeeper indirectly employed by the estate, it was obvious that reasonable compensation would not be coming forward from this guy, so a report of the incident was made to the police, and insurer’s informed.

The estate didn’t take kindly to being instigated in a highly illegal activity and turned on the falconer who had lived and worked there for almost 2 decades,despite their employee’s criminal activities. The result was the falconer was made to leave his home. The police made a muddled attempt at prosecution, and the guy got off on a technicality.

The moral of this story?

there isn’t one, some people just suck Donkey *@c$!