The year was 1958. I was accompanying my father to visit a friend and customer of his, who lived in an area of Pemiscot County known as Black Island. I cant remember exactly why we went to the barn, but I distinctly remember what I saw when the barn doors opened. The inside of the doors were covered with the dead carcasses of hawks of every size and description. They were nailed to the doors with their wings outstretched. Each of them was missing one foot. I asked the man what they were and he replied, chicken hawks.

For some reason, I saw a certain beauty even in the decaying corpses of these magnificent birds. Seeing them crucified to the barn door gave me a morose feeling and no modicum of dread. I suppose I didnt understand that the farmer was supplementing his income by collecting the bounty on these vermin species. The farmer bragged about killing over 500 of these beautiful animals, and I just couldnt understand why.

On the way home, I asked my father what he thought about seeing all those dead birds. He merely shook his head and stated that some people just didnt understand natures ways. I asked him what a chicken hawk was. He told me that a chicken hawk was any hawk that flew over a farmers land. I detected a note of sarcasm in his voice. It was almost the sound of pity for the ignorant. At that moment I decided that I would not be ignorant about these birds.

I started becoming aware of the hawks that were soaring in the skies around the Mississippi River bottom land, the cotton fields and in the swamplands. I watched Hawks as they flew through the Willow woods adjacent to the river and hardwood forest further inland. As I grew older, I spent more and more time in search of these wonderful creatures. I distinctly remember watching a hawk as it stealthfully flew through the branches of the woods in pursuit of another bird. I didnt get to see him catch it because they flew out of range. But I was rooting for the hawk.

While I was in Boy Scouts I had the opportunity to meet our local Conservation Agent. He presented a slide show on birds of prey for Troop 92. After the show I made it a point to meet him and we talked about hawks for 30 minutes. He was the one that told of the sport of Falconry. The idea of working in concert with a wild bird of prey absolutely fascinated me. He called me about a month later and told me that he had a book that I could read that would tell me all about the sport. He and I read the book together.

By now the year was 1966. The sport of falconry was not yet regulated. The Conservation Agent and I both became very interested in it. We put together a mews, made some jesses and leashes, acquired a few bells and other truck that goes along with falconry. About a week later, he called me to his house and showed me a male red tailed hawk that he had caught. Thats when the real fun began. Two rank amateurs attempting to man a red tailed hawk was quite a sight to behold! Somehow, we made it happen. We flew the hawk for two years, slipping him on bunnies and having the time of our lives. We always went out together. Needless to say, this Agent became a very important person to me.

Time marched on, I left for college and the Conservation Agent eventually retired. Our faithful Red tail had to be returned to the wild.

Fast-forward to 1977: I was living in Oregon at this time. I chanced to meet a man named Jim Sisson. He was a raptor rehabilitator and wildlife photographer. Again, he and I became friends. I spent a lot of time at his rehabilitation center and soon started helping him with the birds. This gave me an opportunity to work with everything from kestrels to golden eagles. I got to fly my first Falcon there.

This is where I was introduced to the idiocy that a lot of people practice while handling birds of prey. The USFWS would bring birds to us that were kept as pets or otherwise illegally obtained. One golden eagle I remember in particular was kept in a parrot cage. The cage was so small that the eagle could not turn around without rubbing his tale feathers against the bars. Consequently, he had no tail feathers, thus, my first attempt at imping. Falcons were brought to us in a state of malnutrition, having been fed on bologna for several months. And the atrocities go on and on.

The owner of the rehab center, being a Master Falconer himself, used regular falconry techniques for rehabilitating these birds. I studied his methods for approximately a year before reality called me back to a job that actually paid money.

Now we move up to 1999: My son Zachary has always been a nature buff. He and I used to breed small cage birds together and we would often drive around the swamps, barrow pits and blues holes looking at the ducks during the migration season. I had a half dozen bird feeders set up in our backyard and a nice afternoon would be spent watching and cataloging the different species of birds that visited there.

I started my Scouting career, when I was eight years old and I encouraged my son to do the same. The aforementioned year, marks Zachs first year as an instructor in the nature department at a near by Boy Scout camp. The same camp, I worked at some 30 odd years earlier. Zach has worked there every summer since then.

The year 2001: About two years ago, Zachary started talking about birds of prey, and how fascinated he was with them. He started speaking of falconry. I found some books and some web sites for him to investigate. Naturally, he did so without hesitation. Zachary also had the opportunity to meet several people involved in the field of wildlife management. Birds of prey were a very popular topic of discussion. Falconry seemed to be an interest of Zachs for the next couple of years. Of course, this got my juices flowing as well.

The year of our Lord 2003: The study started to become more intense. I decided that it was time to get serious. After all, the boy had been talking about this passion for over two years now. He studiously read his books. He pondered the qualities of red tailed hawks versus kestrels. Zachary had almost decided that he would rather have a kestrel than a Red Tail. But the jury was still out.

I had no idea there was a Missouri Falconers Association until I found it on the Web. This led me to Ted Glowczwski. A few e-mails later, and I was on the mailing list for the M. F. A. newsletter. The next thing I know, Zach and I were invited to the hunt in October. We couldnt pass up an opportunity like this. It was a dreary, rainy fall morning. I wasnt very optimistic about having a good days hunt in that weather. But I was proven wrong. Zachary and I walked along with the falconers, observing every detail. We asked questions of everyone who would listen to us and were very pleased to have received good and appropriate answers. Wet from foot to crotch, we had lunch with El Presidente. Naturally we talked about hunting with hawks. And we couldnt wait to get back out in the field. We even paid our dues to Norma and became members of M. F. A.

We stayed with the group until nightfall, but then we had to drive back home. As soon as we got in our van, Zachary turned to me and said Papa. You know I have to do this. I asked him if he thought he still wanted a kestrel. He quickly replied, Oh no! Im going to get a Red Tail.

El Presidente pushed us to take our tests. We decided to do so and now were glad we did because we both passed. We are in the process of gathering equipment and building our mews. We hope to have time to trap at least one passage red tailed (preferably two) before the season ends. With Tony Taylor as our sponsor, we think we have a very good chance of being able to train our birds, and catch a few bunnies ourselves this winter.

On behalf of Zachary and myself, I would like to thank everybody in the Missouri Falconers Association for extending such a warm welcome to us. Your kindness and your interest in nurturing our enthusiasm about falconry were far and away greater than anything we expected. If things go as planned, Zachary will be a master Falconer by the time he is 25 years old. I, on the other hand, will be...um older than that.

So, the future of falconry in Missouri is looking bright. The Missouri Falconers Association can take credit for this. Not because of any extraordinary lobbying efforts, or groundbreaking breeding techniques because youre simply a bunch of nice people.