Falconry? Thank you, no.

I like birds as much as the next guy.

I mean, they can be beautiful. They can make beautiful sounds. And they can fly, which in itself is something of a miracle. Bonus points that birds are what dinosaurs evolved into. 

I love seeing the first robin each spring. Of course, these days, I don't know if it's the first robin of spring, or a robin which was just comfortable to hang on during our increasingly milder winters. Still, my spirits are always buoyed when I spot a robin red breast in February or March.

I love the occasional spotting of what to me, a non-bird watcher, is a rare bird: a cardinal, a Baltimore oriole, a scarlet tanager, a goldfinch.

I love the less rare sighting of a blue jay. Sure, they make an obnoxious cawing noise, but blue's my favorite color, so...

I love seeing hawks - or are they falcons? anyway, something raptor-ish - swoop around, although I could have lived without seeing the decapitated pigeon one left on the Boston Common. And a few years ago, I saw a magnificent hawk perched on a mound of snow that had accumulated in the bed of a pickup truck. I was walking on Brookline Avenue, and there it was, just a few feet away from me, stopped at a red light.

I love seeing hummingbirds gathering nectar. (They're so tiny: how do they survive?)

I love watching starlings swirl around in their intricate murmurations. (Yes, I had to look it up.)

I used to love to hear woodpeckers pecking away in the woods next to our house when I was growing up.

I just plain love crows.

On the other hand, seagulls and pigeons...

Not to mention the stalking, terrifying urban wild turkeys that abound in this area. Talk about don't make eye contact. 

And I'm not wild about the idea of birds as pets, especially when they're allowed free range in the house. (It happens.)

But mostly I'm cool with birds.

The most interesting bird sighting I ever had was on a trip to a client in San Antonio, Texas, where I had a hard time looking at the client, given that the tree outside his window was loaded with buzzards.

That and the raptors I've seen a few times at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum in Tucson, where they have daily free flight raptor shows. Fascinating. 

Despite my genuine disinterested quasi-affection for the bird family, I was a bit taken aback by a headline I saw in the Boston Globe the other day: Are you a good candidate to own a killer bird?

Well, the obvious answer is NO.

Even though I could live quite contentedly without mice, rats, or snakes, and squirrels aren't my jam, I really wouldn't want to own a bird of prey, namely a faclon. So just say no to falconry.

Still, I was intrigued by the Globe article by Billy Baker on what being a falconer is all about.

First off, who knew that you can't just go out and buy a falcon. Instead:

You go out and capture a falcon. That is the law. It’s kinda weird that any of this is legal, and the fact that beginner falconers are required to capture their first bird is definitely one of the weirdest parts. (Source: Boston Globe)

Given how I feel about birds in the house, I wouldn't have been a candidate, but, in fact, you can't keep a falcon as a pet. 

Falconry is an ancient practice, but this is not about having a bird of prey for a pet. That is actually against the law. You can’t just read “Harry Potter” and decide you want an owl, though that does sound cool. Falconry is instead an active hunting partnership, where the bird remains wild the entire relationship, free to take off and not come back.

"Active hunting partnership?" The only active hunting partnerships I've been been part and partner of was when I used to haunt the Bonwit Teller sales in Filene's Basement. 

The falcons generally do come back. That's because they're trained to do so. And because it's in there self interest to have a human assist the falcon when they're on the hunt. The falconer may, quite literally, beat the bushes, rousting out mice, voles, chipmunks, and whatever else is in there, making it that much easier for the falcon to find prey. 

But there's more to this than capturing a falcon and start beating the bushes for them. Becoming a falconer is a long and complex process.

First you have to check off a painfully complicated list of legal requirements designed to discourage all but the most serious applicants. MassWildlife, the state’s conservation agency, reports that lots of people make inquiries about the licensing process each year, but only one or two become a licensed apprentice allowed to capture a bird. For that to happen, you must first pass a 100-question exam. Then you need to build a dedicated shed, known as a “mews,” to house the bird and the required gear, all of which must be inspected by Erik Amati, the state’s falconry coordinator, which is an actual job title. And finally, and most challengingly, you need to find a licensed falconer willing to sponsor you for the required two-year apprenticeship, and there are only 48 of them in Massachusetts.

I'm not generally someone who carps about where her tax money goes, but given that only one or two falcon apprentice licenses are issued each year, and that there are only 48 licensed falconers in the state, I'm sure hoping that "falcon coordinator" isn't a full-time, full-time paid position.

But once you do become a real, post-apprentice falconer, there's plenty of things you can do. 

Well, then you can buy your next bird — including owls! Or you can keep capturing them, or you can get a license to breed them, or you can become a mentor, or you can leave them alone and get a pair of binoculars and just look at them.

Which you can do without being a licensed falconer. So I'll stick with that. That an seeing if I can spot a Ford Falcon when I'm out and about. They're rarer than the hawks I see
regularly.