I have always loved falcons. They are my kindred spirits, my celestial companions, my avian alter egos. While the wolf may represent my terrestrial soul, falcons are the embodiment of my airborne dreams. These feathered daredevils, these sky-bound speedsters, are everything I aspire to be but, alas, can never achieve. My introduction to their world was less a grand revelation and more a confused stumble, much like trying to walk down steps in socks on a slippery hardwood floor.

My first memory of truly understanding falcons was during an ill-fated school assignment. I was tasked with writing about DDT the pesticide, not the wrestling move, though both wreak havoc in their own ways. The assignment required researching the damage DDT was inflicting on the eggshells of birds. While I initially approached the task with all the enthusiasm of someone volunteering to clean out a clogged drain, something curious happened. I stumbled upon images of falcons, and it clicked. Those swooping silhouettes I had admired against the backdrop of countless sunsets. Falcons. Those majestic creatures I had tried to sketch on the margins of my notebooks, never have been good at drawing birds. Falcons. I had unknowingly been their admirer for years, and this pesky essay was the key to unlocking the obsession.

Now, let me pause here for a moment to say that I do not merely like falcons. I am fully convinced that falcons are the chaos agents of the bird world, and I say this with complete affection. They’re not just birds; they’re the rebellious teenagers of the skies, breaking speed limits and defying gravity. Peregrine falcons, for instance, are the Usain Bolts of the animal kingdom, reaching speeds of over 386 kilometers per hour during their stoops (fancy bird talk for “death dives”). Forget sports cars or motorcycles if evolution handed out speeding tickets, peregrines would need a legal team on retainer. Not that I don’t dream about having a Ninja or a Hayabusa 2^nd Generation that is near impossible to insure due to its power and speed. There is a reason the Hayabusa 2 is drooled after by motorcycle racers after all. Oddly enough when you look up the names you get quite a kick out of it. That is a story for another day though. We are talking about the Falcon after all.

But it’s not just their speed; it’s their audacity that gets me. Falcons are the “hold my coffee” species of the avian world. You probably have seen the meme with a driver going “hold my coffee and watch this” in heavy ass snow at least to most of the human population (see below). That is not me at all, not ever, I didn’t grow up around rally car racers that taught me how to do this from the time I could see over the dash, nope. Let’s admit it, I loved learning all that and it saved my life in 2019 with my car accident that I should not have survived. They’ll divebomb prey mid-air, perform acrobatics that put human daredevils to shame, and then perch somewhere high just to gaze smugly at the world below. And who can blame them? If I were capable of such feats, I’d probably strut around like I owned the place too.

Now, falcons, as a group, are ridiculously diverse. We’re talking over 40 species spread out across the globe, each bringing its unique brand of drama to the skies. There’s the peregrine falcon, which is basically a Formula One car with feathers. Then there’s the gyrfalcon, a hulking beast of a bird that reigns supreme in the Arctic. If peregrines are the sprinters of the falcon family, gyrfalcons are the linebackers big, burly, and not to be trifled with.

And don’t even get me started on the kestrels. These guys are like the falcon family’s quirky cousins. They’re smaller, less imposing, but still ridiculously skilled. They can hover mid-air like tiny, feathered helicopters, scanning the ground for unsuspecting prey. It’s the avian equivalent of creeping up on someone in a grocery store and stealing their parking spot. Absolutely savage. Not that I do that often at all, nope I don’t back up really quickly into a stall ever to get the spot I need. I’m honestly not skilled at backing  up at all… ok I can’t even keep a straight face typing that one.

But as much as I adore the flashy stars of the falcon world, there’s something to be said for the underdogs the lesser-known species that quietly go about their business without much fanfare. Take, for example, the red-necked falcon, a bird that looks like it’s perpetually dressed for a colonial-era tea party. Or the hobby falcons, which sound like they should be selling arts and crafts supplies but are instead zipping around the skies like feathered jet fighters.

If you’re wondering why I know all this, welcome to the chaotic filing cabinet that is my brain. I don’t remember where I left my car keys or what I had for breakfast, but I can tell you that the laggar falcon is found in South Asia and has a hunting style best described as “surprisingly relatable levels of laziness.” Don’t ask me how this works; it just does.

Now, let’s talk about falconry because you can’t bring up falcons without mentioning the ancient art of training them. Falconry is like the medieval version of Pokémon, where instead of Pikachu, you’ve got a bird with razor-sharp talons perched on your arm. For centuries, humans have trained these majestic creatures to hunt prey, and honestly, the whole thing feels like an elaborate excuse to hang out with cool birds. And I get it. If I had a falcon, I’d probably spend hours trying to teach it tricks like fetching my snacks or scaring off unsolicited visitors. Hmm I wonder if I could get into falconry here, it would be amazing to have such a powerful bird adore me enough to help me hunt prey… not that the unsolicited visitors are prey, nope.

What fascinates me most about falcons, though, is their adaptability. These birds are like nature’s Swiss Army knives versatile, resourceful, and incredibly efficient. Peregrines, for example, have made themselves at home in bustling cities, nesting on skyscrapers and preying on urban pigeons. It’s like they looked at human civilization and thought, “Why settle for the countryside when we can have the penthouse suite?”

But let’s not forget the actual science behind their awesomeness. Falcons have uniquely shaped wings that allow them to cut through the air like a knife through butter. Their keen eyesight is eight times sharper than that of humans, to the point where they can spot prey from nearly two miles away. THREE KILOMETRES. Meanwhile, I can’t even find my phone when it’s under a couch cushion.

And can we talk about their eggs for a moment? Falcon eggs are a testament to resilience. Despite the damage caused by DDT, falcons have made a remarkable comeback thanks to conservation efforts. Their eggshells are thicker now, more robust, as if nature decided to give them a little extra armor to deal with the curveballs life throws their way. It’s a small but poignant reminder that even the most delicate things can find strength in adversity.

But beyond their physical prowess and ecological significance, falcons are, more than anything else, inspiring. There’s something poetic about the way they navigate the skies with such confidence and grace. They remind me to embrace the chaos, before I even admitted to needing to do this, to dive headfirst into life’s challenges, and to always keep an eye on the bigger picture (even if it’s just over 3km away).

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “How can one person write this much about falcons and still not cover everything?” And to that, I say, challenge accepted. I could write a volume on the mythology surrounding these birds, their appearances in art and literature, their symbolic ties to freedom and power. But I’ll save that for another day because, let’s face it, this bird brain of mine needs to pace itself, however we all know I will undoubtedly come back to this topic. I am starting to notice a pattern here to my writings.

Falcons are not just birds. They are icons, mischief-makers, and marvels of evolution. They are the rock stars of the animal kingdom, living life at full throttle and inspiring the rest of us to do the same. Whether they’re stooping at breakneck speeds or chilling on a high perch, these birds remind us to look up, dream big, and never let a little turbulence hold us back. So, here’s to the falcons the wind riders. What is your favorite bird and why?