Chris didn't care. The truck rolled along and the pigeon flew above it. Whenever it felt the tension of the line it fluttered and fell a few feet. They had not gone far before the hawk they'd seen lifted itself from the branch on which it rested and with a few strong wing beats climbed to its hunting height. Cooper's hawks are not whirling hawks, they are air-to-air fighters, and they do not waste time in search. They measure the distance of engagement, then fly to a place from which to strike. They are not large in the hawk world, but they fly like lasers and they hit birds at high speeds with their razor talons so that they kill on impact. Peter noticed the hawk first and motioned with his chin.

 

"Here comes one," he said.

 

Chris looked down at the harness on his chest. He felt like the line was wrapped right around his heart and that the bird was tugging his insides along with it. He thought of Jake in the hospital bed and his eyes teared up. Chris looked past the flapping pigeon, who was tiring of the resistance, and saw a dark shape a hundred feet higher in the sky coming on a straight vector, its wings beating in steady even strokes like a Roman galley intercepting a Phoenician trader. Chris knew they would catch the hawk with a certainty he'd never known before. He could see how it would happen and he was sure. But now something in him made him afraid for the pigeon attached to his chest and he did not want the hawk to strike.

 

The pigeon struggled along, confused by the weight of the harness and the resistance of the line. The hawk tipped forward, tucked its wings, and dove. It fell like a bullet from the sky and streaked at a pure angle of intercept for the pigeon. The boys' mouths fell open at the raw speed of the hawk. They could see the impact happening before it happened, the two lines of flight like lines on a chalkboard making a clean angle, colliding. There was an instant where there was blue sky between the two birds and then a puff of feathers. Chris jumped when the hawk hit and imagined he felt a pain in his chest. He closed his eyes. When he opened them the birds were falling together, the hawk fluttering its wings as it tightened its grip. It spread its wings to catch its fall then beat them powerfully to lift away. When the hawk felt its feet stuck in the mesh web, the fibers tightening on its feet, it let out a furious scream that cut through the heavy summer air.

 

Leroy looked out of the window. He knew the sound. He kept the truck moving forward until he was sure the hawk was stuck, and then he stopped the truck and put it in park. He climbed out and came around the side.

 

"Now wind the line in steady," he said to Chris.
Chris seemed to have forgotten that he was not the pigeon that had been struck.
"Chris," Leroy said. "Wind the line in now."
"Wake up, squirt," Peter said. "You caught a bird."
"Just crank on the reel slow and easy," Leroy said again.

 

Chris grabbed the crank and began to turn it. The hawk struggled against it and the harness creaked on his chest. Leroy pulled a pair of giant leather gauntlets out of the front of the truck and a big bird net and then he came back and hopped in the bed with the two boys. Chris regained his composure. The power of the struggling hawk filled him with strength and his face was determined as he reeled the bird in. The hawk struggled against the line and screamed. Another hawk, hearing the cry, rose from its position on the tree line into the sky and whirled high to watch the event. When the trapped hawk was only fifty feet away it turned back towards the truck bed, looked Chris right in the eye, and screamed.

 

"He doesn't have anything to strike with," Leroy said.

 

The bird tucked its wings and dove right at Chris who backed up against the cab of the truck. Leroy steadied him with one hand.

 

The hawk pulled up short a few feet above them in a loud flap of wings, knowing it couldn't strike with the pigeon attached to its feet. Leroy reached up and grabbed the line. He let the net fall from his other hand, jerked the line toward him, and grabbed higher up with his free hand. The hawk lost the air under its wings and tipped over. It struck out fiercely with its beak but Leroy held firm. He grabbed its two legs close to its body. The bird slashed at him again but could not break through the thick leather of the gauntlets. Leroy tipped the bird forward and grasped its head from behind. The hawk spread its wings a last time but it was helpless as a hanging turkey.

 

"Peter cut the line, wrap around the legs and tie it off," and then, "Chris, grab that burlap bag."

 

The boys did as they were told. When the legs were tied together, Leroy lowered the hawk into the bag and then tied it off tight enough that it had no room to move its wings.