On a recent morning in late October, master falconer Alina Blankenship strides purposefully through rows of vines sagging with full bunches of grapes, yelling Goose! in a high-pitched tone. The sky is overcast, the clouds heavy with rain and, for a moment, it’s entirely empty—until a flock of starlings flutter up and scatter. Then, with spread wings that complement the sky’s overlapping shades of gray, Goose emerges from the mist and swoops down to catch a morsel of raw meat that Blankenship has tossed into the air.
Goose, an eight-year-old barbary saker hybrid falcon, is following Blankenship’s directions about where to go. Their task?
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