In an email exchange with Steve and me, Reid mentioned an essay he plans to write expanding on some of the themes from his good posts below. He may draw some comparisons between traditional hunting & gathering bands and today’s street gangs. It will be a good essay and we’ve already put in for an advance read!
Whether modern street gangs truly mirror prehistoric hunting bands, I hope never to learn first hand! But I sent Reid a coarse description of an activity I have long thought to contain myriad natural elements to which (at least some) humans are clearly well-adapted: Group hunting with Harris hawks.
Briefly for the non-falconers: Harris hawks [Parabuteo unicinctus] are among the most popular species flown in falconry today. They are slightly larger than crows, generally dark-feathered but with ochre shoulder patches and a striking white tail band. They are superb hunters of just about any prey animal up to the size of a jackrabbit, and uniquely (to falconry birds, anyway), they are social. Wild Harris hawks often live and hunt in bands of 5-15 birds, all sharing in the work and spoils of the hunt. This behavior transfers naturally and quickly to group-hunting with willing human beings, dogs and whatever else might want to join in.
I set the scene a bit for Reid:
There are usually 4-5 of us hunting together, sometimes as many as 15. We are generally in mixed mature woodland abutting a cleared or transitional zone (because that’s where the bunnies are, here). Above us, following and leading are the Harris hawks, about 7 or 8 of them, all related to one another and friendly. These birds are of course new to falconry, but in effect, they could easily be a pack of dogs weaving in and out between us and waiting for the group to flush something.
We proceed basically in a big circle, the group flowing loosely along the wood edge, more or less staying together, but occasionally sending out sentinels (bird or human) to briefly explore a fallen log or thick bush before returning to the group. Once a rabbit or squirrel is flushed, everyone converges, and the excitement level jumps about 5,000%.
The group dynamic is also characterized by our differing ages (among our friends, usually mid-20s to late-50s), both sexes, plus various ages of the hawks (a mix of this year’s “babies” plus their older sibs, aunts, uncles, etc). It feels like a family group on forage. A weird family, yes, but even so….
As we roam along through briar and palmetto, we all get little cuts and scratches, but they are minor and remarkably, they tend to miss the eyes in such a way that you instantly know why people (and hawks) have brow ridges!
Our eyes and ears are well-tuned to pick out movement and other clues to game; our legs are just right for jumping logs; our hands surprisingly adept at killing rabbits and squirrels. We all remember the routes and places we’ve already been and searched. Everything just WORKS right. Plus, there are some interesting gender differences, with Jennifer’s uncanny ability to recognize each hawk by its face (they are all nearly identical black birds) at a distance, and the rest of us better at identifying them in flight. Some of us spot hiding game better than others, and some of us are better at taking clues from the hawks. At one point or another in a group hunt, everyone’s particular skills and experience will be employed and appreciated.
I don’t know how a street gang might move through its territory, but I know very well how a small hunter-band moves through cover. It’s a wonderful, natural experience.
Sounds like Ortega y Gasset’s “Municipal Paleolithic Man” to me!
I always loved that phrase of his.