Patrick Porter of the Pigeon list (also a bird hunter, botanist, horticulturist, and damned good writer), sent Libby a bunch of huge Dahlia tubers. (Wish I had thought to show scale-- some of these are finger long.) We shall provide updates.
The Gos, who was molting loose in the mews, very suddenly developed a serious case of Demonic Mews Possession Syndrome. Sounds funny, but I don't care for a large well- armed bird hanging from my throat. Brought him into the house for retraining and he turned back into a pussycat-- here he is turning his head in the universal hawk greeting signal.
But having a hawk, as opposed to a falcon, in the house is always tough-- they excrete horizontally for one thing, and our poop catcher is not 100% reliable. And even the best hawk (as opposed again to falcon) is a nervous fidgety thing. So we built a screen perch for the mews and are feeding him out on the hawk lawn. Not sure if he cares for this but it is the best we can do.
Matt who flies Harrises as sweet as my falcon, is saying things like "Just when you thought it was safe to go back to Accipiters" and "They'll turn on you, you know!"
Meanwhile the baby falcon is a delight. Here he is with his favorite monster.