Sunday, August 12, 2007

new season

I take the hawk out today. The first chase becomes first catch of the season. Taken in the air – all those vertical-jump exercises during molting season pay off. Awesome. A Harris hawk will never have the wing power of a goshawk, but he fights wind and gravity and directs his feet into a quarry desperate to keep its life, and makes success look effortless. The excitement is there: the knee-shaking delight, the wings laid over possessively, the glazed look, even the fumbling and forgetting.

A touch of paranoia rises as I notice two people in a car watching me. They’re driving in broad circles around the parking lot, looking at me and the hawk. They look like they might be foreign, and are definitely too shy to indulge their curiosity in the American manner: driving up and asking what the hell I’m up to. They’re not Filipino security (the best kind to deal with, since they’re firm but mellow and do just what they’re paid to do; white security usually has a chip on its shoulder, being failed police candidates, and is desperate to bust you for something, anything.) I drive away hoping they didn’t phone anyone, that I won’t have HS or the police or F&G knocking on my door.

I’m not prone to paranoia. I don't know why I feel it.

No comments: