Scott Simpson

After nearly 43 years together it’s very difficult to know where to begin. Scott had so many facets that made up the whole of the man he was. Outdoorsman, falconer, shooter and hunter, motorcyclist, builder, patriot, an extraordinary life partner and so much more.

Let me tell you about Scott the falconer. Being readers, we were both familiar with falconry in history, but we were unaware that it was being practiced in the United States. Neither of us had ever met a practicing falconer, so when we saw a demonstration at the Atlanta Zoo we were hooked. Forty days after that visit, we had a mews built and inspected, Scott had passed the falconry exam and had a sponsor, equipment had been purchased and we were ready. And what a ride this turned out to be! He and Malcolm Edwards trapped his first redtail, and even though Joshua was not a great hunter, training him was a tremendous learning experience. Scott had a connection with every raptor he ever flew that was fascinating to see and he had that same bond with all of his dogs as well. He had such an affinity for the raptors that he even made the connection with the rehab birds he worked with. He observed every bird he was around, and gained a wealth of knowledge from gang hawking redtails in Georgia. He continued to build from that foundation and ultimately trained and flew falcons, Harris’ hawks, and some excellent goshawks and golden eagles. Scott learned something from every falconer he ever met as well, and a few became friends that he valued for the rest of his life.

We moved to Wyoming for the opportunity to hunt jackrabbits outside the back door of our home. Having state and BLM land on two sides of our property afforded us hunting that simply couldn’t be topped, plus we got to watch pronghorns, mule deer, turkeys, sage grouse and so many different species of wildlife that we always had the finest in entertainment. We saw Goldens take down pronghorn, and once watched several golden and bald eagles, ravens, coyotes and magpies compete for a place on a carcass off our back property line. That saga played out over several hours and is something that very few people ever have the opportunity to see. Scott’s falcon Whiskey used to wait for Scott to get there when he had killed his prey and would only eat once he was perched on Scott’s foot. Maggie would fly over to the house after they’d been out slope soaring in the front yard and she’d jump up on the steps and just walk into the house and go over and hop up on her perch. I remember gang hawking in Georgia with several birds up chasing a squirrel that was the luckiest critter in the world that day. After being pursued through the tops of the pines he finally bailed out and hit the ground running with five redtails right on his tail. The birds hit the ground right behind him as he ran, sounding like concrete blocks thrown to the ground and every single one missed him. Jinking jackrabbits have nothing on that guy, and I’m sure that squirrel became legend in his neck of the woods! Bob Gordon taught us the finer points of trapping early on and Scott, Bob and I spent many days trapping in pursuit of the perfect redtail. Once we spotted one that we were sure was an albino and we tried so hard to catch her. Never did but had a lot of fun trying. Scott and Mike Ballou came up with an idea to make a BC trap better, putting stand off nooses on an igloo shaped trap. It truly was a better mousetrap, danged thing was unbelievably effective and we were able to catch birds for lots of apprentices. One of the goshawks Scott raised from a downy was out just learning to fly and hunt one day when she decided the jackrabbit she saw looked pretty interesting. She gave chase, Scott and I running as hard as we could to keep up (she is fast), when she just disappeared! We called, whistled and searched for the longest time, then she popped out of the ground right in front of him. She had evidently followed that jack down a hole but she didn’t bring him back out. But she never missed another jackrabbit the whole time he flew her. Jeff Kisak flies her now, breeds her as well. I understand she’s still a formidable hunter and I’ll never forget how much fun we had raising and flying her. Scott raised a couple of goshawks from fuzzy tennis balls and they were exceptional. Scott just had a magic touch with every bird, dog and cat he ever had the pleasure to partner with. He had a kestrel once that would search the house for Scott, just to perch on his shoulder. Rode there like a parrot. Once he rehabbed a nighthawk, and that bird came back to the house for five years after going back to the wild. He’d come hang out on the back porch chairs for a few days then he’d go on about his business.

So very many memories, it’s impossible to recount them. I’ll have a whole set of encyclopedias to review in my dotage. Scott told me when we started dating that we’d never be rich, but I’d never be bored. I have to say, he was right. He was the best man I’ve ever known, capable of anything he decided to do, and the best partner a girl could have hoped for. This world and I lost an immeasurable treasure. He will be missed by many people whose lives he touched. Cali and I have lost our North Star.

Contributed by: Cate Simpson