Train a falcon

“Salma is remarkably light on the glove, although by day's end my arm aches from holding it outstretched. With a flick of my glove I let her go into the wind, which the birds need for lift. She flies up to a tree and waits while Jannes places a tiny piece of meat between the fingers of my glove. He shows me how to hold up my arm and call her [...] And then, in one thrilling moment, she soars towards me with her talons outstretched and lands perfectly on my glove, plucking the meat from between its fingers. I toss her back into the wind, twisting her off my wrist, and start walking away. Suddenly I hear a whoosh behind me, and she lands on my shoulder blade: it feels like the very sharp nails of two small gardening forks pressing into my skin.”

“For a quick practice swinging the lure, Jannes passes me his bag, which he uses to store the meat and hide the lure from sight until ready. To me, it's like passing the torch. He takes Marley's hood off and lets him fly to a tree. "Now?" I ask, uncertain at how quickly this is all happening. As soon as I take out the lure and start swinging, the falcon swoops down on me. [...] Then he leaves it to me. That's when Marley catches me off guard, flying straight up in the air and diving down, coming back for one more pass to catch the lure. Once he does, I drop the lure onto the ground and he sits perfectly poised with one foot on the lure, waiting to be given his reward, as he's been trained to do.”