I was sad when I sold my camp up country. I spent hours sitting in the screened in porch, or in the yard, or along the river, or in the woods, watching an abundance of wildlife.

Of all of the animals, a perrigine falcon was my favourite. The first meeting in late May was quite a surprise. I walked along the deck on the side of the camp and when I came out from under the eave, "Beaker" was on the upper deck railing. It flew a feet feet over and perched again, no more than ten feet from me. I sat on the lower deck railing and started talking to it. It was calm and accepted my presence.

For the rest of the summer, I watched it hunt for mice and snakes and partridge and whatever for hours at a time. Mice were getting into the camp for a while and I was catching them. At first, I would toss them to Beaker on the upper deck. Then, in the air and he would snatch them. Then, hold them by the tail in my outstrected hand and Beaker would swoop in, turn sideways, and grab them.

Unfortunately, Beaker nailed a Moosebird (Canada Jay) one day. Partrigde? Understandable. Blue Jay? Fine. Whipoorwill? Even better. But, a Moosebird? Unacceptable. I revoked his hunting license.