Since I was a child
Long before I picked up a camera, I was the child who stopped for every buzzard on a fence post. Raptors and owls were my favourite animals even as a child. Nothing about that has changed to this day.
When I was around 30, I flew to Abu Dhabi. There I met a falcon breeder who explained to me how falconry works in his country – in the Emirates it is still a firm part of the culture today.
Here at home in the Camargue, I see birds of prey every day: harriers quartering the reeds, kestrels hovering over the meadows, ospreys over the water, sometimes even a greater spotted eagle – and owls calling at dusk. (If you are curious when which species is around, have a look at my month-by-month guide to the birds of the Camargue.)
The long road to the fist
A bird of prey is not a pet you simply buy – and fortunately, in France you can't. First comes the permis de chasse, the French hunting licence, which is compulsory for anyone who wants to acquire a raptor for falconry. I passed mine in February. Before and after that, I spent months learning alongside an experienced falconer. Falconry is a craft that is handed down in person: no book can teach you how to read a hawk's mood.
The next step was the autorisation de détention, the official permit to keep birds of prey and owls. With it, I am now allowed to keep up to six falconry birds for chasse au vol, the French term for hunting with trained birds. I decided to start with two.
Photo: Dirk Koster
Tina and Elvis
Both of them came to me as five-week-old chicks, and I have raised and trained them myself from the very beginning.
Tina is a female Harris's hawk. Harris's hawks are the most sociable of all raptors: in the wild they even hunt in family groups, which makes them unusually cooperative partners for a falconer. Tina is a natural for bas vol ("low flight"), the style of falconry in which a hawk is flown straight from the fist, the falconer's gloved hand, at prey close to the ground. Its counterpart is haut vol ("high flight"), the classic falcon style, where the bird climbs high and waits on above the falconer before stooping (diving) at its quarry.
Elvis is a Siberian eagle-owl, and he lives up to his name. Eagle-owls are famously headstrong and among the hardest falconry birds to train. Every step with him takes patience, and then more patience. Where Tina asks "what are we doing next?", Elvis asks "why should I?"
The daily routine: scales before skies
What most people never see is the quiet work behind every flight. Each day begins on the scales. I weigh Tina and Elvis every morning, to the gram, and write it down. In falconry, weight is everything.
Every bird has its flying weight, the weight at which she is healthy and strong but also keen to fly and hunt. If a hawk is too heavy, she is "fed up": content, lazy, and much more likely to sit in a tree and ignore you, or to drift off for good. If she is too light, she loses strength and condition. The art lies in finding that narrow window and keeping her in it, day after day, through heat, Mistral and winter cold. When everything is right, a hawk is sharp-set: alert, eager and focused on the fist. The old falconers' word for a hawk at the very peak of her hunting mood is yarak.
Weighing is only the start. Every day I also check:
- Feet: clean, with no swelling or sores. Healthy feet are vital for a bird that lives on her talons.
- Feathers: no broken or damaged feathers, because she needs every one to fly well.
- Mutes and castings: a hawk's droppings, and the pellets of fur and bone she brings up after a whole-prey meal. They tell me a lot about her health and digestion.
- Behaviour: how she sits, how she reacts, whether she seems relaxed or stressed.
Between flights the birds rest in their mews, their sheltered aviary, or sit out weathering on their perch in the fresh air and sun. It is a daily rhythm of care that never takes a day off, and I love it just as much as the flight itself.
Photo: Dirk Koster
The first free flight
Every young falconry bird starts on the creance, a long, light training line attached to the bird so she cannot fly off while she learns to come back to the fist or the lure, a bundle of feathers or a piece of meat on a cord that the falconer swings to call the bird in. Day after day she flies a little further, always on the line. Then comes the day you take it off.
In early October I did exactly that. I cast her off (released her from the fist) and she flew free, with nothing holding her to me. And then she came back.
I cannot describe how that feels. A hawk you have raised since she was five weeks old, who could go anywhere, and who chooses to return to your glove. That is not obedience. It is trust, freely given, and it is the most beautiful feeling I know.
What falconry gives my photography – and vice versa
Since I started working with Tina and Elvis, I photograph birds of prey differently. I read their body language: a bird that shakes itself or quickly mutes once more is usually about to take off – and I am ready before it happens. I know that birds of prey take off and land into the wind, and I choose my position accordingly. And I recognise earlier when a bird is stressed and I should keep my distance.
In turn, photography has made me a better falconer. Sitting for hours in a hide has taught me patience, and looking closely means I notice every change in their body language. When I photograph wild birds of prey hunting, I learn how Tina would behave in the wild – and in my photos of her flights I see things that escape the naked eye.
Why I see falconry as the most natural way to hunt
Our next goal is Tina's first real hunt. People are sometimes surprised that I, a wildlife photographer, want to hunt at all. But for me falconry is the most natural form of hunting there is:
- It is nature's own way. The hawk hunts exactly as she would in the wild. It is not me who hunts, but her – I simply give her the chance to do what she was made for.
- The prey has a real chance. Most flights end with the quarry escaping. Rabbits and other wild animals know every trick, and they often win.
- It follows natural selection. Like wild raptors, a hawk most often catches the weak, slow or sick animals, which keeps wild populations healthy.
- It is quiet. No shots, no disturbance for the other wildlife around us.
- It is a partnership. We hunt as a team of three: my Münsterländer Thommy flushes the rabbit or pheasant, and Tina takes it. A hawk cannot be forced. She hunts with me because she wants to, and every flight depends on our trust.
Falconry is one of the oldest ways in which humans and animals have worked together, and since 2010 UNESCO has recognised it as an intangible cultural heritage of humanity. For me it is simply the closest I can come to the wild life I photograph every day: not as an observer behind a lens, but as a part of it.
A small falconer's glossary
- Fist: the falconer's gloved hand, the hawk's home base.
- Bas vol / haut vol: low flight with hawks and buzzards from the fist / high flight with falcons that wait on high above.
- Chasse au vol: the French term for falconry, hunting with trained birds of prey and owls.
- Quarry: the prey a falconry bird is flown at.
- Creance: the long training line used until the bird returns reliably.
- Lure: a feathered or meat-baited bundle on a cord, swung to call the bird back.
- Cast off: to release a hawk from the fist into flight.
- Flying weight: the weight at which a bird is fit and keen to fly.
- Sharp-set / yarak: keen and ready to hunt / at the very peak of hunting mood.
- Fed up: overfed and unwilling to work.
- Mutes / castings: droppings / pellets of undigested fur, feathers and bone.
- Mews: a falconry bird's sheltered aviary.
- Weathering: time spent outdoors on the perch in fresh air.
Questions I'm asked again and again
Why does Tina come back to you?
Much like a dog: we have a close bond that has grown through daily training. My fist means food and safety to her. She flies at her flying weight – motivated, but never starved. And every single time, she chooses to come back to me of her own free will.
Why doesn't she attack you?
Your dog doesn't bite you either. I took Tina in at five weeks old and raised her myself. To her I am neither an enemy nor prey, but her partner. She uses her talons to hold on to my glove – not against me.
Did you know? – The Harris's hawk
- It comes from the semi-deserts of the Americas, from the southern USA down to Argentina.
- It is one of the few birds of prey that hunt together as a family group. Sometimes they even stand on top of each other on a post or cactus to get a better view.
- As in almost all birds of prey, the female is larger than the male – so Tina is the 'big one'.
- Because it is so social and even-tempered, it is considered the ideal bird for starting out in falconry.
Why are the females bigger?
In almost all birds of prey and owls, the female is larger and heavier than the male – the reverse of most other animals. The difference is greatest in fast bird hunters: a female sparrowhawk can weigh almost twice as much as the male. In falcons, hawks and buzzards it is still clear – the old falconers' word tiercel for the male comes from the fact that he is about a third smaller. In vultures, males and females are almost the same size.
Why this is so has never been fully explained. A common theory: the larger female incubates and defends the nest, while the smaller, more agile male provides the family with prey.
Did you know? – The Siberian eagle-owl
- It is one of the largest subspecies of the eagle-owl and strikingly pale, almost creamy white.
- It comes from western Siberia, from the Urals to the Altai, where it lives in the taiga and forest steppe.
- Its wingspan reaches around 1.80 metres.
- Its eyes are fixed in the skull, so it turns its head instead – up to 270 degrees.
- It flies silently: fine, comb-like edges on its feathers muffle the sound of its wings.
- Here, too, the female is larger than the male.
- The 'ears' aren't ears: the two feather tufts on its head are just feathers – they help with camouflage and show its mood. The real ears are hidden at the sides of the head, and the round facial disc channels sound towards them like a satellite dish.
Did you know? – Owls in the Camargue
Several species of owl live in the Camargue – some all year round, others only in summer or winter:
- Eurasian eagle-owl: Elvis' wild relative. It lives in the Camargue.
- Little owl: small, with yellow eyes, and often seen by day on old walls, roofs and fence posts. Sadly, it is becoming rarer and rarer in the Camargue.
- Scops owl: a summer visitor from Africa. On warm nights you may hear its soft, monotonous 'tjoo' – but it is well camouflaged and quite hard to find.
- Long-eared owl: in winter, several often roost together by day, well hidden in the tamarisks.
- Short-eared owl: a rare winter guest in the Camargue that also hunts by day – with a little luck you can see it in the afternoon, flying low and buoyantly over the marshes and meadows.
Want to follow Tina's first hunt?