RIP Ella

 There's a hole in my heart that the light passes through

And the pattern it creates is the shape of the absence of you

Tim Minchin, "The Absence of You"

When I was 13 years old, I bought a book on falconry.  Not some adventure story or romance - this was a nuts-and-bolts training book.  I had a cousin in Illinois that I had never met - but he was training hawks and we corresponded.  It was a dream.

But we transferred overseas, and when I came back to the states I went to college and got married and did Life, and that dream went by the wayside.  

50 years after buying that book, I found myself in a walk-in cage with a red-tailed hawk.  I was working at the Tallahassee Museum by then, and to my great joy had been handling a couple of the owls.  We got this hawk from a rehabber (unfortunately common case of vehicle vs. hawk).  Most of the educators were busy with various programs, so I was asked to glove train her (she couldn't fly, but the goal was to be able to have her be able to be an education bird).

Perhaps the timing wasn't the best.  This was at the beginning of 2013.  My mother had just passed away, my father had fallen and broken his ribs so I was moving him to a nursing home and shutting down his apartment, and things were falling apart at work.  What I found out was that when you get in close proximity with an wild hawk (and she was a big girl) - you check everything else at the door.  You have to be calm and focused on the bird.  Being with her was the only time I could stop my brain from racing.  It got to be addictive - no matter how busy the day, somehow between teaching and then going across town to deal with Mom's affairs or to visit Dad, I would (often still in my work clothes) get over to spend some time with her.

 I grief bonded with her; she helped me get through that rough time in my life.  The rehabbers who took care of her after the accident had named her Cruella because of the strength of her grip.  That soon got shortened to Ella, and then nicknames of Bella or Bellisima, my beautiful one.

She was a lot of bird, and could be intimidating, with those glaring eyes, powerful beak, and even more powerful talons.

Of course I liked the ego boost of handling her in public.  I always found it amusing that when I had our little round fluffy barred owl out, I had to be careful of people getting too close, wanting selfies, asking if they could touch her.  Then I would put the owl up, get out Ella - and watch everyone back off.  We were on TV once for an advertisement for the museum, and in the video you can see that the host was carefully leaning away from her.

Ego aside - my favorite times were just the two of us.  I wanted to keep her used to being handled, to being carried on the glove, so I would just get her out and take a walk around when the museum wasn't crowded.  We would go along the boardwalk and just sit and look out at the lake.

I never kid myself that this adoration went two ways; she was a hawk.  I loved her, she tolerated me, and I accepted this relationship.

A big moment came for me in late 2014.  A commercial was going to be filmed about a constitutional amendment to protect the environment, with Jim Fowler as the spokesman.  Yes - from Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom.  I loved that show as a kid (probably caused my love of nature).  He wanted to be able to hold a hawk while filming, and at the time I was Ella's only handler, so I got to take her to the filming and spend time with Jim.

Can't resist a random picture here.  Although she didn't have a mate, she would sometimes lay eggs in the spring - and when her hormones were up, we couldn't handle her for about 6 weeks.  I couldn't resist this shot of her on the nest.  She was making it clear that I should back off - but I can't help but think that she looks like an angry Muppet.

Alas, good things come to an end.  Our education director was getting increasingly difficult to work with - I put up with it because I liked working with the animals and doing educational programs.  But at one point she decided that we needed to change the protocols on how Ella was handled (side note - she had never handled her, or even spent any time with her).  I didn't think they would work (they might for some birds, but not her).  When I asked if we could talk about it (as I was Ella's trainer and primary handler) she made it clear that she didn't have to discuss her decisions with mere staff.  I handed in my resignation from the education department.

I then pissed her off by promptly volunteering in the animal department.  Being vindictive, she stated that under no circumstances was I to be allowed to handle the birds.  I missed it of course, but even cleaning their habitats I could visit with them. After this director was "invited" to leave the museum, the woman who took her place allowed me to start handling the birds again (it's good for them to be handled, and she doesn't always have enough people to do it).  The problem was that Ella was developing some health issues.  Every time I was prepared to meet with the new director and get re-certified - something would go wrong.  She developed fatty liver syndrome.  After that cleared up, she had a prolapse and needed surgery.  Then she developed bumble foot.  When that finally was cleared up, it was decided that she didn't need the stress of being an education bird, and a year ago she was released into our large aviary.

I was happy for her.  Plenty of room, no one to bother her; this spring she was even "keeping company" and piling up sticks with one of the other hawks.  I missed handling her, of course, but I enjoyed seeing her finally living her best life.  After we do the morning cleanings, we have to walk past the aviaries (or often even go in to clean them as well) and I would always look for her, say hello to my beautiful Bellisima, and smile.  I was simply happy to see her.

This past Tuesday I was cleaning in there, and something was wrong.  She was on the ground (not unusual) but was walking slowly and unevenly.  I alerted Suzie.  She brought Ella to the kitchen.  She was weak, and had lost a lot of weight.  Since then, Suzie has been tube feeding her, or hand feeding chunks of meat, which Ella couldn't  always keep down.

Ella died this morning.

I'm gutted.  And I desperately wish I had something more than a pillow to cry into, that there were arms to hold me.  Bob was proud of me for being able to train her.  On our anniversary after I started with her, I opened a gift from him to find a beautiful green leather falconer's glove.  He understood.

I'll miss her.  I'll very much miss that feeling of happiness just walking past the  aviary and seeing her there.  Goodbye, my lovely.