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At home from Panama to the Arctic, red-tailed hawks are a common sight in the skies of North America. But because red-tails are understandably shy of humans, they are usually a distant sight, and few people get the opportunity to observe the raptors up close for more than a fleeting second.
Peri McQuay, a Canadian writer and naturalist, is one of those few. Called on to help raise a young red-tail that had been taken from the wild early and trained--but only partly--by a would-be falconer, she embarked upon what she clearly considers to be the adventure of a lifetime. Warned that Merak, the young bird, might have imprinted on humans and therefore likely could not fend for herself, McQuay spent the next several seasons encouraging Merak to find a home for herself in the world to which she belonged, probing the depths of raptor psychology in an attempt to help Merak learn to hunt, find a mate, and return to the wild state that was her birthright.
The experiment, as McQuay writes in this thoughtful memoir, had mixed results. Her portrait of Merak is sympathetic, affectionate, and full of surprises (among them the humorous revelation that a bird of prey and a cat can arrive at an accommodation, and even live in peace), if tinged with sorrow for what has become of so much of the wild. McQuay's affecting tale of "the gift of this pitiably damaged yet magnificent hawk" will inspire any student of wild birds. --Gregory McNamee
From Publishers Weekly
In 1998, a two-year-old red-tailed hawk, taken illegally as a nestling by a falconer, was released back into the wild on the 800-acre protected wildlife area in eastern Ontario where McQuay and her family lived. Because the hawk, whom they called Merak, was human-imprinted, it took the McQuays four years to shepherd her transition more or less successfully back into her natural environment. In this engrossing memoir, McQuay (The View from Foley Mountain, 1995) relates how Merak became a part of her family's daily life, and, despite the bird's hunting ability, depended on them for sustenance, particularly during the molting season. Her clean, careful prose sometimes yields lovely imagery, as in this description of Merak's acclimation: "she practices teetering hops from branch to branch" with "a sober elation.... She seems to be holding up her feathers like a little girl hampered by long skirts." McQuay unsentimentally evokes the bird's harsh beauty, and the frequent anguish inherent in harboring a wild creature; the hawk harassed the family's dogs and would have attacked their cats without human intervention. Meanwhile, McQuay constantly worried that Merak was undernourished, and supplemented her food with skinned muskrats from a neighboring trapper. Merak built nests and laid eggs every spring, but they were never fertilized. Although Merak eventually undertook an almost completely independent existence, she still visits the McQuays when she is in need. B&w photos not seen by PW. (Mar. 20)
Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc.
