I'm Back, But Petrie Isn't (Final comments)

Final Comments
by me, Anna

HE was the first boy I ever loved

And the only one I ever kissed

He was the one that helped me fly when I felt earthbound

He reminded me that I had potential

We never had any real conversation

All our communication was movement

Fluid, dancing

He saw me, not as a monster, but as hunter

A guide, a helper

He was my companion

I was always around him

And when I was not

It was like the world was broken

Dying, wilting, falling

One day, I let him go

And He stayed

I promised myself that every day

We would work in our silence

Learn his body movements

And He learned mine

No, we did not speak

No, we did not need to

I counted his wing beats to know how far he was going

He counted my strides to know what I was watching

We knew what the other was thinking

Without actually asking

He knew where we were going by the coat I wore

And I swore that there was no way in hell I was letting him go again

I have not let him go

I have not moved on

He is long gone

But I am here

The first day after I found out he was dead

I was in the car, driving on the freeway

When a semi came up next to me

I thought ‘I could swerve

Right now

Just a little

And it would all be over’

I slid my hand up the wheel

Just a little

My front seat passenger slapped my wrist

Told me stay in my lane

But this is hard

I see Him on the other side of the truck

But I am stuck here,

The pain, they tell me, will go away

I do not believe them

But I have both my hands

And that means that my options are always open

One day… I promise myself

Some day…

I'm Back, But Petrie Isn't (continued)

A few days ago, my sponsor lost her imprint kestrel, and my immediate thought was that it was my fault.

It was the one day I'd gone to visit them in months. That night she lost him. I felt like the worlds biggest bad luck charm. That's not even adequate to describe it. I felt like my resistance to skipping a year in falconry, meant that God was taking it out on her, to show me once again that this year was a bad decision.

I just never learn.

Monica was infatuated with her kestrel, Anakin, more so than a normal falconer is with their bird. She had all these plans for him, all these goals she wanted to achieve. She had a billion things that she wanted to do. He was all that she talked about.

When imprint birds are lost, you only have a day or two to find them. Being raised with humans means that they don't know what they're doing in the wild and they die very quickly. Monica never found Anakin. And I still blame myself.

At this point, we're all just dying together and it's my fault.

I'm Back, But Petrie Isn't

This is about to get personal, dramatic, and a little religious, so there's your warning.

This whole season, I've had what I would describe as "a rock in my stomach" about falconry. I love falconry. You should know this by now. I can't fully describe the love that I have for this sport. I am in this for life. But I've had this feeling, like God was letting me know that falconry wasn't a good idea this year.

Now, I'm only a second year apprentice. I can't just skip a year. That's skipping half of my apprenticeship. And even if I could skip a year, there is not a single thing on the earth that would have convinced me to do so.

So, I got my bird; Bellatrix.

Then I lost my bird.

Then I got another bird; Petrie. I worked with Petrie. He was the most perfect bird I could ever hope for, but I couldn't provide enough game for him. That's the reason I let him go at the end of the season. I didn't want him to become dependent on me and end up unreleasable. But letting him spend a summer as a wild bird was exactly what he needed, and he was going to be perfect this season.

We started free flying and he was ready for hunting, but I had things going on that week, so we couldn't hunt quite yet.

On Tuesday, I started getting ready for our outing. We were going to go for a walk through the subdivision so he could get a lesson on following. This is where the bird is released completely and expected to move from perch to perch or in a soar and follow the falconer. Petrie was very good at this last year.

But I had a bad feeling.

So I took my time getting out of the house. I found my good boots. I did my hair. I put on my makeup. I did all the stupid little things I could to postpone our outing that day.

Then we went out, and Petrie was being perfect. He followed me like he hadn't gone anywhere over the summer. He hopped from rooftop to rooftop with little prompting.

Then a wild female came in. I didn't scream at her because I didn't want to freak out the neighbors on their porches, mistake number one.

Petrie ran from her and hid in a tree; her tree. She knocked him right out of it and the two tumbled to the ground. One stood on top of the other, but I couldn't tell which. There was a fence between us, that I should have just vaulted, but I didn't because I spent too many extra seconds worried about my bird and trespassing, mistake number two.

Finally, the two untangled themselves and Petrie took flight over my head. I frantically threw the lure out, even though there was nothing on it, mistake number three. He went for it, then skyed-up at the last moment. She chased him into another kestrel's territory and he chased him into another's until they were too far away for me to even know what to do. I can't drive and no one was home to drive me.

So I went home and cried. And as soon as people got home, they took me to a rehearsal I had for a play I didn't enjoy, that took up all my time. Mistake number four was going to rehearsals. I should have just dropped out. I knew I wasn't going to enjoy it and I knew that it was going to take up my time. And I let it.

Mistake number five was letting other things take up my search time.

Mistake number six was flying him in those oversized jesses.

Mistake number seven was not telling anyone but my sponsor.

Mistake number eight was thinking he would be okay.

A week later I had a borderline panic attack at 10 pm. I vowed to myself that I would go searching for him the next morning and only come back when I had him.

Mistake number nine was letting my mom convince me that she needed my help Christmas shopping. Even if I didn't go with her, though, I wouldn't be able to search half as well without the car. So mistake number nine was also letting myself wait till the next day.

That morning, someone found him dead in their pool.

That afternoon I picked up his body at their house.

That night I buried him.

I can't describe the rest of that week deeply enough. Petrie was dead and it's because I couldn't accept that I wasn't supposed to do falconry this season. I just wasn't.