Falconry in NC: The joys and challenges of hunting with birds of prey

Richard Shores doesn’t like to walk away from the birds, glossy and alert, perched on his front lawn.

Lagertha, a Harris hawk with a strong grip, keeps an eye on Shores’ dog, Bella.

Bruno, a red-tailed hawk, is a little stressed; his beak hangs open. Xena, a prairie falcon, sports an eyeless red hood and a GPS transmitter.

Summer is the off-season, when birds of prey rest and grow new feathers. In a few months, Shores will look on as each soars above North Carolina fields — up to 10 stories high, for Bruno — then dive as fast as 120 mph at rabbits and squirrels.

Shores, who lives in Apex, has been practicing falconry since 2004. He’s one of about 100 licensed falconers in North Carolina.

At a workshop hosted by the N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission in Raleigh last month, now in its 13th year, Shores and his fellow falconers looked to expand the ranks — or at least show would-be falconers what they might be getting into.

Finding falcons

Falconers work with birds of prey to hunt smaller birds and wild animals in North Carolina.

To get a state license, apprentice falconers must pass a written test, then train with a sponsor for two years.

Falconers can fly different species of birds of prey, from hawks to owls, based on state guidelines. Red-tailed hawks, common in North Carolina, are ideal for apprentices.

“[Red-tailed hawks] are humble,” said April Davenport-Rice, secretary of the North American Falconers Association. “They train very quickly. They’re hardy.”

Many falconers trap their birds in the wild. State statutes limit this to native birds that have learned to hunt but are too young to mate.

“Wild birds are really special,” said Aaron Kincaid, president of the North Carolina Falconers Guild. “They’ve already been out hunting and killing, surviving on their own. … Your work is teaching it to work with you.”

Hopeful falconers will spend weeks, sometimes months, looking for aeries where hawks nest, or where they perch. They’ll lay out a noose trap, which catches a bird’s feet when they go for the mouse inside.

Some species are protected by quotas. Just five falconers a year are chosen by lottery to trap peregrine falcons, said Falyn Owens, an extension biologist with the wildlife commission.

Falconers may travel to trap new birds: goshawks on the East Coast, Harris hawks in Nebraska and Texas.

Hawks act tame in captivity, and experienced falconers might keep birds for years. After several hunting seasons, Shores talks to Lagertha like a friend, stroking her feathers and beak when she lands on his gloved wrist.

Others trap new falcons every season. Wild birds that are released still have hunting instincts, while a bird bred in captivity may struggle if they fly off.

Xena, the prairie falcon, imprinted on Shores at 3 days old. She’s still too skittish to sit in his yard without a hood on, but she’s quite comfortable in his kitchen — where he raised her by hand.

Hunting and trusting

The relationships between falcons and humans are unique, falconers stress — if one can call it a relationship at all.

“They are not loving,” Kincaid said. “They’re not caring. They’re very demanding.”

Davenport-Rice’s current bird, Janee, won’t land on her arm. But when Davenport-Rice enters her enclosure, Janee’s feathers settle down.

Raptors don’t express affection, Davenport-Rice says. The best a falconer can hope for is signs of trust.

These come out the strongest while hunting.

Most North Carolina falconers hunt during squirrel and rabbit seasons. Training may take as few as two weeks for wild-trapped birds.

“They’re excited to come out and start flying around,” Shores said.

With birds in the backseat — either swathed in a giant hood, or tied to a ring — hunters head out early.

As the day unfolds, rabbits creep deeper into dense undergrowth, and squirrels hide in tall trees.

Open fields are better for hunting rabbits, while squirrels live in wooded areas.

Both of the habitats are getting harder to find, Kincaid said, due to development.

Xena flies low to the ground, but Bruno, the red-tailed hawk, might land five miles away after a steep dive. That’s why some falconers strap GPS and radio transmitters to their birds’ ankles instead of the traditional bells.

Most birds, except Harris hawks, hunt alone. Shores will take Lagertha out with her brother, Ragnar, while Kincaid and his mentor hunt their Harris hawks together.

Some falconers also bring hunting dogs to scare up rabbits, though falcons have been known to dive at the dogs when no rabbits emerge.

When a falconer does gain a bird’s trust, it’s “euphoria,” Davenport-Rice said. “I think my blood pressure must go down 50 points when I’m doing something like that.”

Preparing for challenges

Five years ago, the annual workshop had only eight attendees. This year, attendance slots sold out.

Participants learned about current laws and regulations, and about the cultural heritage of falconry

“The joke is we try to cram 4,000 years of falconry into eight hours,” Davenport-Rice said.

About 70 residents attended, but Shores said, after hearing about the challenges of falconry, he’ll be happy if even one or two seek mentors.

“This workshop is probably the determiner of whether you’re going to pursue [falconry] or not,” Davenport-Rice said.

Working with a falcon means endless road trips, thick leather gloves and backyard construction, and freezers full of dessicated squirrels. It can get expensive and demanding.

“They have to understand that this is not a pet,” Davenport-Rice said.

Feeding a falcon for a year can cost $500. Add $200 for leather equipment, $3,000 to $6,000 to build a mew or special type of birdhouse, and another $150 for medical checkups.

It’s common for falconers to re-gift their birds, Davenport-Rice said, after an injury or life change.

“If you break a leg in the woods,” she said, “That’s the end of your season. The bird still has to survive.”

And after all that, a bird might fly out to hunt and never come back.

A tiny sparrow hawk once flew from Shores’ front yard during training. Without a long-distance tracker, Shores never saw the solitary, colorful raptor again.