The hawk's way Encounters with fierce beauty

Sy Montgomery

Book - 2022

"When Sy Montgomery went to spend a day at falconer Nancy Cowan's farm, home to a dozen magnificent birds of prey, it was the start of a deep love affair. Nancy allowed her to work with Jazz, a feisty, four-year-old, female Harris's hawk with a wingspan of more than four feet. Not a pet, Jazz was a fierce predator with talons that could pierce skin and bone and yet, she was willing to work with a human to hunt. From the first moment Jazz swept down from a tree and landed on Sy's leather gloved fist, Sy fell under the hawk's magnetic spell. Over the next few years, Sy spent more time with these magnificent creatures, getting to know their extraordinary abilities and instincts. They are deeply emotional animals, quick... to show anger and frustration, and can hold a grudge for years. But they are also loyal and intensely aware of their surroundings. In this mesmerizing account, featuring sixteen pages of gorgeous color photographs, Sy passionately and vividly reveals the wonderous world of hawks and what they can teach us about nature, life, and love."--Publisher's website.

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Subjects
Published
New York : Atria Books 2022.
Language
English
Main Author
Sy Montgomery (author)
Other Authors
Tianne Strombeck (photographer)
Edition
First Atria Books hardcover edition
Physical Description
79 pages, 8 unnumbered pages of plates : illustrations (some color) ; 19 cm
Bibliography
Includes bibliographical references (pages 75-77).
ISBN
9781668001967
Contents unavailable.
Review by Booklist Review

Montgomery famously loves all animals, but she is especially in awe of birds. Like The Hummingbird's Gift (2021), this is a succinct, intimate, and captivating chronicle graced with color photographs, but here she focuses on a very different bird-human relationship, the ancient bond between hawk and falconer. Raptors remain inexorably wild, Montgomery reports, no matter how close a hawk and handler become. "If you do everything right, a hawk will allow you to act as its servant. And for this, the falconer is profoundly grateful." Hawks are vigilant, easily angered, and dangerous. They are also, Montgomery rhapsodizes: "Magnificent, graceful, strong, big, brave, and smart." Montgomery recounts her lessons with falconer Nancy Cowan, describing gear, techniques, and the experience of having a hawk fly straight at you, land on your arm, and grip you hard with its sharp talons, its lacerating beak inches from one's face. Hawks have the sharpest vision on the planet; "the tigers of the air, they hunt like no other predator." Montgomery's rapture in the presence of hawks and their "fierce, wild glory" is gorgeously illuminating and deeply affecting.

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Naturalist Montgomery (The Soul of an Octopus) explores what can be learned from birds of prey in this impassioned introduction to falconry. Blending memoir and research, Montgomery shares stories from her own experiences with raptors while weaving in thoughts from other naturalists, wildlife conservationists, friends, and her falconry instructor, the late Nancy Cowan. Montgomery began taking courses in falconry because of her love of birds, and she soon realized she'd entered "a strange new world" when she watched Cowan get bitten. With flowing, intimate, occasionally humorous prose--"A bird of prey, in fact, is so rarefied that it doesn't even shit like the rest of us"--Montgomery reveals the uniqueness of falconry and the birds it involves. As she travels from upstate New York to parks in New Hampshire to visit raptors, she reveals them to be enigmatic, sensitive animals that are prone to outbursts of violence. She also finds them alluring creatures, and conveys vividly their hold on her: "My whole soul feels like a yawning hole that only this bird can fill." The result is a heartfelt and informative primer, just right for adventure- and animal-loving readers. Photos. Agent: Molly Friedrich, Friedrich Agency. (May)

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review

Naturalist and author of 31 books for adults and children, including the National Book Award finalist Soul of an Octopus, Sy Montgomery's adoration of and respect for hawks is exuberantly communicated throughout this mix of natural history and memoir. Montgomery tells how her first encounter with a Harris hawk named Jazz fueled a years-long fascination with these remarkable creatures. She spends years learning with trainer Nancy Cowan, and is fiercely passionate as she describes falconry, past and present, and discusses the emotional and physical lives of hawks. She has no sentimental illusions about the birds' inner lives and emphasizes, despite her deep enjoyment in pursuit of falconry, that the raptors simply do not like humans. VERDICT Though listeners must rely on a supplemental pdf to view photographs of Montgomery's training and close-ups of the hawks, the author's irrepressible enthusiasm, vivid oral storytelling, and a brief clip of hawk sounds make this short listen, that grips and soars, an essential purchase.--Lauren Kage

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

The bestselling author of The Soul of an Octopus and The Good Good Pig turns her attention to hawks. Montgomery hooks readers with a striking opening line--"Inches from my face, I hold a living dinosaur"--the first hint of her passion for the subject. This slender, graceful work, featuring Strombeck's vivid photos, is more a monograph than a book, though scientific rigor is not its strong suit. Throughout, the author displays her abundant enthusiasm for this unique predator, but she sometimes gets carried away, giving the impression that working with the hyperfocused hawk is like playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun. Not that devotees will complain. Montgomery offers a good amount of stimulating information about raptor behavior, a primer on the language of falconry, and some surprising insights into what is thought to be a hawk's mindset. Montgomery's fervor echoes that of her mentor, the late master falconer Nancy Cowan, whose 2016 book Peregrine Spring possessed some of the same merits and deficiencies--most notably, too many flights of fancy. This is not to say that Montgomery isn't factual on the basics of humans hunting with hawks, including proven stratagems. She also explores at length, with admiring acceptance, what it means to be the bird's subordinate partner in the hunt. Occasionally, Montgomery's lyrical bent finds her indulging in the sort of dramatics and anthropomorphism that are more romantic than empirical: "On my hand, I hold a waterfall, an eclipse, a lightning storm. No, more than that. Jazz is wildness itself, vividly, almost blindingly alive in a way we humans may never experience." It's a lovely thought but overwrought. Yet the author helps us forgive these excesses, and a rather selective love of animals, with her powers of observation and total absorption. Not Montgomery's best but mostly enjoyable reading on a consistently intriguing raptor. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Introduction       Inches from my face, I hold a living dinosaur.       Like his ancestors, the creature I hold on my fist is a hunter, an eater of meat. As did his forebears, the therapod dinosaurs--creatures like Allosaurus, Velociraptor, Tyrannosaurus--this bipedal predator possesses long arms, swiveling wrists, large finger bones, and forward-facing eyes bestowing excellent binocular vision. Like them, when he hatched out of the egg, he was covered with down. As with many of them, his baby down then gave way to feathers.     The difference is, unlike the other dinosaurs, the one before me can fly.      His name is Mahood. He's a young Harris's hawk, a species native to the American southwest, with bold feather markings of mahogany brown, chestnut red, and white, and long yellow legs, his feet tipped in curved, obsidian talons. In August, he was transported from the breeder where he'd hatched in upstate New York to take up residence with my friend and neighbor, Henry Walters, a poet, parent, and master falconer.       Mahood and I are meeting for the first time. He has not yet learned how to hunt. Henry is trying to teach him. Henry wants Mahood to get used to being around people, which is why he's asked me to grab my falconry glove and come over.          Mahood consents to perch on my glove.  But the next moment, without any warning, he turns his head, looks into my eyes, opens his yellow, razor-sharp beak, and screams, full force, into my face.        Mahood does not like me, and is not shy about announcing this. His is not a scream of fear, but of fury: the voice of an angry dinosaur.  All birds, we now know from fossils and DNA, are, in fact, what became of the reptiles who once ruled the earth, creatures we all used to think were extinct. That they are not is a truth that Darwin's champion, Thomas Huxley, suspected as early as 1867; he called birds "glorified reptiles." But the connection between birds and dinosaurs is impossible to miss in a raptor.       My husband, watching from a comfortable distance, is alarmed by Mahood's scream. He's used to seeing strange dogs and cats, pigs and chickens, horses, and even an octopus, relax to my touch.  But I am not surprised at all by Mahood's reaction. Hawks, as I now know well, are different.        My falconry instructor, Nancy Cowan, made this clear from the start: A hawk does not want you to touch it. It does not want to be petted. Ever. Not even a hawk you have raised from a hatchling and fed from your hand. Eventually, some hawks will, under certain circumstances, consent to your touch--but they don't like it. A single mistake handling a raptor, even one you know well, may provoke it to bite you, stab its talons into your flesh, or both.        Sometimes a hawk you've worked with for months or even years will attack. Henry's previous hawk, a big female redtail, Mary, one day flew out of a tree and, instead of landing on his glove, strafed his ear, slicing through the cartilage with her outstretched talons. The upper part of his ear flopped over like a Labrador's. (Emergency room doctors braced it so it would heal upright again.) Why? We never knew. (My husband sent me out with a hard hat the next time I flew her with Henry--but I left it behind, because many hawks dislike hats and scream at you till you take it off.)        Hawks do not play by our rules. You can never assume that a hawk, even one you raised from a chick, will forgive your mistakes--sometimes a single error ruptures the relationship forever.  A hawk will not come to your rescue if you're in trouble. A hawk will not comfort you if you are sad. What a falconry hawk will do, if you do everything right, is allow you to be their hunting partner--"the junior partner," Nancy is quick to point out, for the hawk, with its exquisite vision and lightening responses, is always the superior hunter.        "It's a funny kind of relationship you have with a hawk," Henry tells me weeks later. We are walking through the forest, and Mahood is keeping pace with us, flying overhead, then perching on tree limbs, looking down and keeping track of us below, what falconers call "following on." Mahood is still immature, and Henry is well aware of the responsibility he bears for nurturing this young soul. But what is the nature of the bond you can share with a raptor?       "It's confusing," says Henry. "It's love, but all mixed up with nerves and hunger and the hunt. Humans love trying to keep up with superhuman things. It's not like any other relationship you have with anyone else."        If you do everything right, a hawk will allow you to act as its servant. And for this, the falconer is profoundly grateful.       The birds of prey preserve an ancient, primal wildness, conserved in their kind since the beginning of the world. And it's exactly for this reason that, more than a decade after my first experiences with falconry, which I will share in the following pages, I still come back for more. I am still learning.          Today, the birds I first flew with Nancy are gone, but I have come to know their successors, and enjoy flying them with her. I'm thrilled Mahood is living on our street and plan to join Henry flying him often. And I am always looking overhead for raptors, listening for the wild and savage sound of their voices.       I am drawn, and expect I ever will be, to the company of hawks--to be bathed, like a baptism, in the presence of their fierce, wild glory. Excerpted from The Hawk's Way: Encounters with Fierce Beauty by Sy Montgomery All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.