Flight of the Falcon

Joe Taggart walks 'round the corner of the bird pen and shakes his head as he explains why one of his white doves is dead. There are scattered feathers and blood stains on the ground.

It was the work of a Cooper's hawk.

"He was eating this when I come around the corner," Taggart says. "It flew in and killed it before I got out here."

The doves sometimes roam loose just outside their coop, and when they do, it puts them in danger. The Cooper's hawk, explains Taggart, is fast and fierce and feeds on smaller birds. The doves make good targets.

The Rathdrum man holds no animosity toward the hawk, but says he must stop it from returning for its next meal.

"Once they start killing them, it's free food," he says.

So Taggart sets a trap, a dove as bait. When he catches one, he releases it - far away.

"I don't know how many I've let loose up on Silver Mountain," he says.

Taggart, friendly and talkative, has been raising and working with falcons since he was 12, more than 40 years.

"My father used to read me articles from Birds of Prey before I could read," he says.

Raising falcons is difficult, costly, time consuming, isn't as popular anymore, he says. He used to breed falcons and ship them throughout the country, and estimates he has worked with hundreds of birds, including hawks and peregrine falcons, during his career.

These days, he's raising four falcons, including two males named Dennis and Green Hornet, along with around 50 white doves.

He owns 70 acres that he bought after moving to North Idaho from Pennsylvania in his early 20s to fly and hunt with falcons. The Rathdrum Prairie was once a wonderful place to do that.

Times have changed.

"It's not any good anymore. There's nothing left. There's no game left. Twenty some years ago, the Rathdrum Prairie was full of game," he said, disappointment in his voice.

Taggart, who hunts and fishes, raises falcons in his house before they get too big.

"When they start flying, you have to move them out because they start breaking things," Taggart said, chuckling.

"They get just like dogs and cats. They love to play. They're very intelligent. If you start throwing a ball they grab it and bring it to you," he says.

The indoor introduction works, he says, because the falcons imprint on him. They trust him.

Like Dennis.

The Gyrfalcon, the smallest of falcons, sits on a stump outside the Taggart home patrolled by a 14-year-old chocolate lab, Spody, who barks, mostly grins, and waits for attention.

Dennis, almost a year old, weighs around 3 pounds. The white falcon with black eyes peers at visitors, turns his head, then squawks at Taggart.

"He's always in trouble, so I named him after Dennis the Menace," he said, laughing.

Before he takes Dennis out for a short training session, he places a hood on the bird's head, then attaches a transmitter and secures a small bell. He's careful to not feed the bird too much before letting it free.

"If they're real fat, they're not going to want to chase stuff and kill it and run it down, or it will fly off on you," he said.

Training is critical for their survival and success. Falcons are like athletes, Taggart adds.

"The more you work with them, the better they do," he says. "If you just take them out and fly them just a few times, then the wild game is in way better shape than they are and they can't catch it," he said.

During the training session on his property, Taggart releases a dove, and Dennis shoots after it, diving straight down, changing directions and speeds with ease, or circling high with its three and a half foot wingspan to spot his prey, then diving again.

This time, the dove flees successfully back to its home.

Another dove takes flight into trees and brush, but is flushed out by Dennis. Still, it too eludes his claws and Dennis doesn't pursue it far before turning away, bored with the chase.

The falcon, gone from sight for a few minutes, lets out little cries as it lands on Taggart's extended arm covered with a protective vest.

"He didn't chase them very hard today," he said.

Gyrfalcons, relying on razor-sharp vision, go after pheasants, ducks, sometimes bigger game.

"The falcons are every aerial," he said. "They're opportunistic."

A Gyrfalcon can reach up to 200 mph.

"They were probably the fastest thing in the world until man made jets," Taggart said.

He prefers falcons, he said, because "they're smarter and they're more aerial. Hawks aren't very aerial."

"Falcons put on a much more spectacular aerial show."

The Gyrfalcon is special, Taggart says. It's one of the few birds that can survive a winter in the arctic. And white falcons, still treasured in Dubai, used to command $25,000. Now, they're worth around $5,000.

Money is not what motivates Taggart.

"It's more or less than a love for me," he said.

Taggart has paid the price for raising falcons.

He has lost birds, and had them shot, too. He has been bitten, clawed and scratched. A talon has punched through a finger and out the other side. One falcon got loose and grabbed him in the face, another seized his stomach.

"Boy, did that hurt," he says, smiling.

Still, he's not worried about Dennis, who sits on his arm and looks warily around.

It's nothing malicious, Taggart says.

"The last thing this guy wants to do is hurt me," he said. "I'm like his buddy."