Sometimes I ask myself why I practice falconry, all the money it costs, all the time it takes and all the worry caused should you lose your feathered friend.
I came accross this poem and it just about put the whole sport into perspective:




....It comes in the moment when she on your hand is ready to go,

The further she flies,

The closer she seems,

The higher she soars,

Where are you now?

Weak of eyesight, Slow of foot,

So mount your limits,

And fly,

Fly under her wing.......