Jack with one of the juvenile Harris' Hawks.

I must have been quite a sight when I showed up at the Trust for my first day of volunteering. Long, unkempt hair covered half my face, wearing an old, tatty t-shirt and battered old boots. Perhaps, considering my appearance, it was no surprise that my first job saw me hidden behind the scenes, cleaning the hospital.

The first item on the agenda was to clean a bay that was the temporary home to a juvenile Griffon Vulture. For those of you who have never known this rather unusual joy let me put it frankly; growing vultures make a huge mess, which is accompanied by a smell that is completely indescribable! Unsurprisingly, I began to question what my good intentions had got me into. Of course, I had expected this kind of situation so I’d mentally prepared myself to grin and bear it, and as a result kept myself in high spirits.

I finished my duties in the hospital, was issued a uniform and asked to mind the gate at the 12 o’clock display. It was time for me to face the public for the first time. Unfortunately there was little public for me to face on a grey, miserable September Saturday, and those who had braved the chill were prompt to their seats before the display had begun. Still, it gave me a chance to watch the flying display and remind myself why I’d volunteered in the first place.

Of course, not every day of volunteering consists solely of scrubbing bird mess. In my time at the trust I’ve helped with all manner of maintenance, also at the flying displays, assisted with experience days and even with the training of a couple of birds. It was on a blustery winter’s day during the closed season I was asked to help with the training of a young Harris’ Hawk. The weather settled down and everything was going well, until the hawk decided to fly off and sit in a tree. I was sent to try and coax it out with a bit of food. Chicken in hand I thrust my glove into the air and waited. After a couple of minutes, the hawk decided that the reward on offer was worth the effort of leaving the tree, so it began its flight back . The relief I felt at seeing the flight was unfortunately short lived as just before it reached me a strong gust of wind pushed the hawk upwards. As this was an inexperienced bird it was unable to right itself and grabbed for the nearest vacant perch, which just happened to be my head. As it turned out, my head was not a very desirable perch as the hawk jumped straight off and onto the floor, leaving a very noticeable red scratch on my forehead. Predictably, the name Harry Potter followed me around for a week or so while the scratch healed.

I didn’t begrudge the hawk in the slightest. After all, the hawk was inexperienced and gained a little more knowledge from the event, as did I.