Page 39 of Ladybird

“Follow me.” Regina took his hand in hers and led him over to the perches where the birds sat silently with hoods over their eyes. He liked the feel of holding her hand. Hunter also liked that no one else was around or she probably wouldn’t have done it.

“Is it really necessary to cover their eyes with those leather hoods?” asked Hunter. The birds wore hoods that looked so silly in his opinion. Most of the coverings had ornate designs on them and ridiculous long plumage atop the head.

“As I told you before, it is. These birds are easily startled. They can also see things moving from far distances and it distracts them. The hoods over their eyes keep them calm and rested.”

“How many birds do you house in the mews?” Hunter raised his head and looked around.

“Right now we have only four birds of prey living here. However, I am going to talk Robin into getting more soon.”

“Talk him into it? So he doesn’t want more birds then?”

“My brother doesn’t yet realize the importance of a good bird of prey. Once his larder is always filled to the brim and it lasts throughout the winter, he’ll be thanking me.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“This is my smallest bird, Dewdrop,” she said, showing him a colorful bird with orange and gray plumage. “She is a kestrel,” explained Regina.

“I see.”

“This one is my goshawk, Cloud. He is a young bird yet and is still in training but learning quickly.” She showed him a larger bird than the first with brown and black on its wings. It had streaked tones on its belly.

“Hello, Cloud,” he said, reaching out to touch it but she grabbed his hand and stopped him.

“Don’t do that! I thought I already warned you not to try to touch the birds. Even though they are wearing hoods and cannot see you, they can still bite. Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Right,” he said with a nod, pulling his hand back. “I suppose they have sharp beaks.”

“Sharp enough to tear the flesh off their prey in midflight. Plus their talons are like knife blades too.”

“I’ll keep my fingers intact, thank you.” Hunter clasped his hands behind his back as they walked to the next perch.

“This is Lightning, my peregrine falcon. You already met her the other night at the lake.”

“Yes. I’m sure Lightning remembers me as being the crazy naked man in the water.”

That made her giggle. “The last bird is my oldest, my largest, and also my favorite. Hunter, meet Hera, my gyrfalcon. She is eight years old.”

The bird had a lot of white on her, especially on her chest. Hera’s feathers on her back and wings were of a grayish brown. Her feet were yellow and her beak had a blue tint. She was truly a beautiful bird.

“Yes, she certainly is a lot bigger than the others,” surmised Hunter.

“The gyrfalcon is the largest falcon that exists, while the peregrine is the fastest,” Regina explained.

“Isn’t eight years an old age for a bird?” He was truly curious about the birds and wanted to learn more.

“In the wild, yes, it is. Ten is usually their lifespan. However, birds in captivity live a lot longer. I heard from another falconer that he knew of a gyrfalcon that lived to be thirty under a rich lord’s care. I hope Hera lives at least that long.”

“Yes. Me, too,” said Hunter.

Regina took the falconer’s leather glove and slipped it onto her left hand. Then she used her right hand to untie Hera’s straps that were keeping her on the perch. “These leather straps on the birds’ legs are called jesses,” she explained. “There are sometimes little bells attached to the bottom, but I only put them on some of the birds. Hera doesn’t wear them.”

“Bells? Whatever for?”

“It comes in handy if the bird goes after prey and loses sight of its master. Sometimes the bird will fly too far and get lost. Listening for the bells helps us to locate them.”

“This is all interesting knowledge.”

“There is a lot involved in falconry. For instance, you must remember at all times that even though the birds can recognize a trainer’s voice or face, they are still birds of prey. So one must always be on their guard.”