Contrary to popular belief, father-in-laws are not always curmudgeonly, judgmental jerks who secretly wish you never married their child. In the case of my falcon whispering father-in-law Brad Felger at least, it couldn’t be further from the truth. Brad is a really stand-up kinda guy, and when the two of us get to talking I get the impression he’s very pleased I’m around. In certain circles, one might assume the two of us are actually friends.

Being so buddy buddy and all, Brad invited me to join him on a routine falcon hunting exercise over the holiday break. Naturally, I accepted the invitation.

At 6:30am we headed out in Brad’s gigantic white truck in search of a place to fly the bird. Turns out the best place to do that sort of thing is a sewage treatment plant. “Not too many people hang around here”, said Brad.

Usually I’m very put off by the idea of giant trucks, due to the fact they’re horribly excessive. But we were in central coast California (aka wine country), and as we rode along the countryside of Atascadero with the sun rising and a falcon in the backseat, everything seemed to fit. The cold morning air rushed in through my cracked window, cutting down the strong scent of feathers and bird poop. it was like something out of a truck commercial (or perhaps even a falconer commercial – if that sort of thing were as widely marketable).

One look at the dashboard (which consisted mainly of falcon hoods and half-empty Big Gulp cups), and I could tell Brad works very hard for his paycheck.

After a few more minutes we parked the truck and Brad began preparing his bird for the flight.

Once the hood was removed, the bird came right to life with curiosity. It wasn’t ready to fly just yet, though. In fact, it perched on Brad’s fist for a good few minutes before taking off.

three minutes later…

At that point Brad took a stroll, equipped with nothing but his wits and a trusty slingshot (apparently he uses it to scare away other birds from his falcons). This was intended to be a hunting exercise after all, not the real thing.

It was incredibly serene watching that thing fly around. There were no cars, no people, just a man and his falcon. After about a half hour of circling the fields and burning a lot of falcon fat calories, it was time for Brad to call the bird back in.

Usually Brad can call his birds back in just by making a noise and raising his glove to the air, but it being the holidays and all, Brad used a dead pigeon this time around. It was kind of like a Beggin’ Strip I suppose, but with more feathers.

She took awhile…

After a decent workout, it was high time to chow down.

And there you go, a morning in the life of a falconer. Having a father-in-law is pretty cool I guess when he’s, well, actually cool.