The Defender. Lindsay McKenna
know, not much isn’t known about those who live in this valley.” She chuckled and settled the hat back on her head. “If you want to hire him, I’m all for it.”
Katie nodded. She looked up at Joe. “I’d like to test you with a few of the raptors. I want to see how you handle them.”
Iris smiled. “Good. Well, I just wanted to drop in and say hello.” She picked up her muddy gloves. “Katie, you put him through his paces. Nice seeing you, Joe.” She waved to them and disappeared through the glass doors.
Internally, Joe went on guard. Would the raptors give him away? God, he hoped not. Would Katie ask him to work with Sam? Eagles were more persnickety than the hot-blooded falcons.
“Your choice. Would you like to work with Harlequin?”
“Sure,” Joe lied. Great, a falcon. They were well-known to be flighty, nervous and to pick up quickly on a person’s energy.
“Do you have your own falconry equipment with you?”
“Yes, it’s in my car. I’ll bring it in....”
Katie watched him leave. There was nothing to dislike about Joe Gannon. He was respectful. He seemed to listen. His handling of a raptor would tell her a lot more than any résumé. He soon returned with a black canvas bag across his shoulder. He took the bag over to the desk and opened it. Curious, Katie watched him draw out a dark brown gauntlet. She saw all the scratches across the well-used kangaroo-leather glove. It was a good sign he had been working regularly with Eddie.
“Why don’t you go down and get Harlequin? I’ll stand to one side and just watch. If you need anything, I’ll be there to coach you.”
Joe pulled on the glove. “Do you want me to feed Harlequin?”
“Actually,” Katie said, “he needs to be weighed. Every morning each raptor is weighed on those scales over there.” She pointed to a long desk on the other side of the aisle. There were two scales on the table. One was for the eagle and the smaller one was for the rest of her raptors.
“Okay,” he said, heading down the aisle. His heart was pounding. He had to get this job. It didn’t matter what Iris Mason wanted and Joe knew that. It would all come down to this: how he handled a raptor. Swallowing hard, Joe forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. As he approached the mew and unlocked it, Harlequin warily eyed him from his perch. Joe knew better than to look any raptor in the eye as this was a sign of threat. Averting his eyes, he focused on quietly entering the clean cage and closing the door behind him. One never left a door open. Ever.
Katie stood back, attentive. She watched Harlequin, who was a red-hot pistol to deal with. If Joe could handle this testy tundra peregrine, he could handle any raptor under her care. She liked the way Joe moved. He slowly brought his glove up to the perch. Harlequin looked at it and then at Joe. A slight smile pulled at Katie’s mouth. Harlequin was all male. And she knew he was sizing up this male stranger in his mew. Raptors remembered faces and they literally memorized everything they saw. Would Harlequin suddenly fly away from Joe because this was the first time he’d ever seen him?
Joe tapped the glove with his index finger. It was an unspoken command every raptor in captivity understood. The falcon looked disdainfully at the index finger on the glove. And then he looked away, toward the other mew where Quest was perched. “I think Harlequin’s focus is elsewhere,” he joked to her in a quiet tone.
Chuckling softly, Katie said, “Gotcha. Yes, he’s wanting to be in her mew. It’s time they mated. Keep tapping your glove. He’ll eventually climb on it.”
Liking her quiet direction, Joe did as he was told.
Harlequin really didn’t want to leave his mew or his mate-to-be. He flapped his wings but remained where he was, ignoring the signal.
“This guy has attitude,” Joe said.
“Yeah, he does. Keep at it. You have to be more stubborn and persistent than he is.”
Smiling a little, Joe again tapped his glove.
Harlequin hopped onto it.
With quiet, smooth motions, Joe attached the jesses to the soft kangaroo leggings around each of Harlequin’s yellow legs. So far, so good. After placing the jesses between the thick fingers of his glove, he slowly lifted the falcon up and headed for the door. If Harlequin tried to bolt and fly back to his perch near the lady falcon, Joe would now have control over him.
Katie nodded her approval. Harlequin seemed all right being on the man’s glove, but he kept looking back with concern toward Quest. “I think once you get done weighing and feeding Harlequin, we’ll transfer him over to the other mew after we weigh and feed Quest.”
Joe walked the falcon up the aisle. Harlequin was looking around, suddenly caught up in viewing all the other raptors on either side of him. “Do I need to put a hood on him? He looks like he’s getting ready to fly.”
“No, he’ll be okay.” Katie knew that most falcons, when brought out of a mew, were always hooded. That kept them from being overstimulated by the changing environment, making them stressed and flighty. “Harlequin is pretty laid-back for a boy falcon,” she said with a laugh. “The only time I’ll hood him is when I take him out for flying time.”
Joe caught her gaze. Her smile melted his heart. She was happy. And so was he, despite the worry the falcon might take flight. Walking to the counter, he placed his glove next to the perch wrapped with outdoor carpeting and securely taped to the top of the scale. Joe tapped the perch with his index finger. Harlequin quickly leaped from his glove, fluffed his feathers, preened a bit on the perch and looked around as lord of all he surveyed.
Katie walked up and picked up a nearby clipboard. “Every morning you’ll weigh each raptor. Depending upon his or her weight, you’ll feed them a certain amount of meat.” She flipped the pages to Harlequin’s file and read the scale numbers. “What amount should he be fed based upon this weight?”
Joe knew the test and glanced at the numbers. Every raptor had a normal weight for their age and size. “I think he’d like about two ounces of meat.”
“Good call. I agree. Hold on...” Katie crouched down to a small refrigerator beneath the counter. Opening it, she drew out a plastic bag bearing Harlequin’s name. “You can do the feeding.”
Joe withdrew the quail meat. He placed it on his glove between the thumb and forefinger. Harlequin instantly gobbled it down and appeared satisfied. Joe smiled and handed the bag back to Katie, who then placed it back in the fridge. “He was a little hungry, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, I flew him yesterday.”
“Makes sense,” Joe replied. “Back to the mew for now?”
“Yep,” Katie said, stepping away.
Harlequin was a good boy this time and with one tap on his glove, he hopped from perch to the fist. Wrapping the jesses around his fingers, Joe walked him back to his mew.
Once Harlequin was on his perch and free of the jesses, Katie said, “Every morning after weighing and feeding, you’ll need to clean all the mews.” She pointed to several small feathers on the gravel beneath Harlequin’s perch. “You can pick up feathers, scat, give them clean water in their bowl. The bath bowl is changed daily.”
Joe nodded and shut the mew and locked it. “That’s what I did at Eddie’s place.”
“Cleanliness keeps them safe. Mites and other insects won’t be around to give them problems,” Katie said. She walked with Joe up to the front once again. He took off his glove and placed it carefully back into the canvas bag, then Katie said, “You handled Harlequin really well. Now, I want you to take out Hank, the red-tailed hawk. We’re going to fly him outside the building. He’s already been weighed and I purposely didn’t feed him because I knew you were coming.”
Surprised, Joe pulled his glove back out of the bag. He’d thought the test was over. Judging from the