Here Be Falcons

I noticed something odd on the way to work the other day (Well, I notice something odd on my way to work EVERY day, but that's because I take public transport . . . in Canada. . . on the west coast--seriously, if I get to the office without seeing a.) lap dogs in knitted jumpers, b.) ice skates, or c.) blatant drug deals, then it's probably Saturday, in which case I'll probably see something odd as I travel back home). Walking down the steps as I exited the Sky Train station in Burnaby, a woman was standing on the platform with a hawk on her arm. It was trained, obviously, and she was wearing a high-vis vest and falconer's gloves, so it didn't seem to be an accident (although I don't really know how a woman could "accidentally" wear a giant bird of prey on her wrist). Naturally, this piqued my curiosity.

In my head, she was part of an elaborate scheme by city planners to rid Vancouver of pigeons. In my head, she was merely one of a number of falconers who would soon be patrolling areas all over the city. In my head, the sky would soon be full of hawks and eagles instead of pigeons--those disease-ridden, rats of the air. In my head she was French . . . I'll just leave that one alone. But since "what happens in my head" and "what is real" are rarely even remotely similar, I decided to strike up a conversation with Hawk Lady.

It turns out she was part of an elaborate scheme by the city planners to rid Vancouver [Sky Train stations] of pigeons. She was one of many falconers working in the city, and I would no doubt be seeing many, many more raptors "patrolling" the skies. All this rattled off speedily in a bouncy, French accent.

Well I'll be damned.

Imagination, meet Reality. You've never met, but it turns out you have a few things in common, after all.