As a teenager, inspired by neighbor Wilford Brimley (famous for his role in the 1985 classic, Cocoon), the above subject turned to falconry. He caught the falcon in the expansive woods near his home in Salt Lake City, Utah. He caged the animal, kept it in the dark, lovingly fed it and whispered reassuringly into its ear. Over a period of six months, the falcon grew to trust him. Soon it could return to the woods, a place now foreign to the captive. The falcon learned to fly freely but always return to its new home.
The dream of every young man then became satisfied.Our subject became the envy of his peers. The falconer invoked wide-eyed stares and salivating mouths of neighboring youth as he walked the suburban streets with a giant leather glove hugging his extended forearm, unbeknown to onlookers that his falcon flew at a 2 miles radius above their heads. Only when he raised the two-finger signal would the bird swoop back to its perch.
From here however, our story turns dark. On a day like any other day, the falconer took his neighborhood stroll, his majestic feathered friend in tow, gracefully gliding above his head. And like many other days, his younger brother begged to follow. They ambled down the road together, discussing boyish matters and admiring their pet. As they watched, the bird unwisely came to rest on the pole of a power line. Immediately the body dropped out of the sky like a rock, catching in the branches of a nearby tree, hanging upside down at eye-level, it's cold, lifeless stare meeting that of the horrified children. After that (and a murdered dog incident), as most teenagers do when their falcon is killed before their very eyes by its own stupidity, he turned to social deviance.
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