This not actually related to falconary. I was mowing some pasture at my farm this weekend and it is typical to have 3-4 redtail hawks sort of follow you around because when you are mowing you scurring allot of field mice and rats. The hawks dive down and get them. Yesterday I had a smaller hawk ( not a redtail) that would fly along side the tractor and get within 20 ft of me sometimes. I could easily make out all the details on his head and body. He showed no fear. He stayed with me for 3 hours. Really neat! He looked like a very large peregrin but was too large. He was thin winged like a falcon; just a beautiful bird!
Most animals are not scared of Tractors. I suppose they know they are just slow and methodical. We have deer and coyotes that pay no attention to me when in the pasture on these machines. The hawks keep you company!

EZ

The smallest falcon is the Kestrel..A good chance that you saw one . They often hover and here they like to sit on a telephone line overlooking a field looking fo Voles etc.The vole BTW always dribbles urine which reflects UV light which the kestrel can see !!

Sparrow hawk locally thinks the pasture belongs to him.

Here's a male:

So THAT'S what he was! Fifteen years ago I went out to the garage on the place where I was living, opened the door, and saw broken glass all over the workbench. Worried about my toolbox, I stepped in to Investigate, and saw movement under the bench. Suspecting a Snake, I closed the door, turned on the light, and grabbed a slate bar from the corner. As I got close, a sparrowhawk jumped out and went hopping like mad across the floor. He had apparently tried to fly in through the window, thinking it was an open one. He had hurt his right wing too badly to fly. Anyway, knowing something about Birds of Prey, I pulled on a pair of old Welding gloves, chased him around, and gently caught him. Holding him with one hand, I slipped off a glove(MISTAKE!) and gently felt his wing bones to make sure they weren't broken. They weren't, he'd just pulled a muscle or bruised Hell out of himself. Apparently he didn't care much for my Bedside Manner as quick as wink he struck at my hand, which was behind him, and Nailed Me GOOD. Took a pretty good-sized divot out of the side of my hand.Oh. Right. He needs a hood! So I tied a piece of twine around his leg for a jess or trace and set him down. Found an old work glove with worn-out palms, took my knife and sliced off the end of a finger, cut a notch for his bill, two holes for a string, and Voila, Instant Hood. Then I cut up an old broomstick, nailed it into a T-shaped perch, and nailed it to the wall at an angle. Then I spent the better part of three hours chasing grasshoppers and catching worms for him. He seemed to like the hoppers pretty well, but didn't seem impressed with the worms. He kept staring at me in a haughty way, like, ' I'm a HAWK, Stupid, not a fish!' Right. Got on the phone, called then-wife at work, told her to bring a pound of hamburger home for Henry. "Who's Henry? Do we have Company?" she asks. " Not really, Henry is one of our neighbors, you've seen him around, but he don't talk much, and never visits. He's got a Bum Wing right now, and he'll be staying with us a few days." She kept pestering me for his last name, and I told her it was 'Hawk'. That got me a tearing, because I was always a BIG Foghorn Leghorn fan, and she knew who Henry Hawk was. 'If you wanted chili for supper, just SAY so!' That taken care of, I went out with a pan of water, CAREFULLY caught him up again, and set him down by it. He was thirsty, and seemed to appreciate it. I fixed the window with some duct tape while he drank, then introduced him to his perch. He seemed to like that a LOT.
Well, the wife was Impressed with him and wanted to keep him, and looked Hurt at my 'What The HELL is WRONG With You?' expression. " He's some kind of HAWK, Woman! You don't put a HAWK in a CAGE! He'll DIE." Then she wanted to argue about How Did I Know He Was a Hawk. " Look at his Weapons, Honey, he damn sure ain't no barn swallow! Better yet, stick yer finger over and try to pet him, he'll show you his License to Kill." And she DID! I couldn't BELIEVE it! She only did it ONCE, though. She wasn't from Missouri, but you DID have to Show Her, and he surely did. I laughed so hard I cried! " O.K.," she said calm as could be as she watched the blood trickle down her hand from her index finger where Henry had peeled a slice of hide off her knuckle and down the finger, about 3/4 of an inch long. " So he's still a little WILD. A little time and Love will calm him down some," she said. The words were no sooner out of her mouth when Henry jumped off his perch and lit on her hand! He BURIED his talons to the hilt in the web between her thumb and index finger, and nailed her twice more with his bill before I could grab him with the gloved hand and her with the other. Having neutralized that vicious little bill, it took me some few moments to wrestle her hand up closer to him so his talons could release. She wanted AWAY from him pretty bad and couldn't believe I was trying to do anything but FEED her to him. I managed to quit laughing long enough to explain that Henry didn't come with Extensor muscles from the Factory, he was a Stripped-Down High Performance Model and only had ligaments that worked his talons and he COULDN'T Let Go, even if he wanted to, which he didn't. At any rate, I finally got the airborne fishhooks(meathooks?) out of her hand, and put his little hood on him, and set him on his perch. Then I had to run to the house and hide all the shells for the shotgun. She had pretty much the same Temperament as he did. She was VERY hurt and Offended that he should have taken such rude action in response to her kindness. I didn't blame her much, but Henry was a HAWK. So I spent the next several days explaining to her about Raptors in General while feeding Henry raw burger with a sharp stick, which he LOVED. He ate, he drank, and he covered the wall with spots of , well, YOU know. And he healed. After about three weeks, he seemed to be flying around the garage pretty well, and would land on the workbench when I showed up with the beef and water and let me feed him. So after his breakfast one morning I took off the strings, curled him up in my hand, and took him in the house to show her, and she watched when I said 'Goodbye' and gave him a Low-Powered Cat Shot out over the yard. Little feller Took Off JUST like an F-14 on Full Afterburn! Straight as an arrow and twice as fast he shot into the treeline, and lit in a big hickory. He sat there, looked around a minute, ruffled his feathers, and took off again. Now that we knew to look for him, we'd see him circling around the house and wave to him. I always thought he was a Sparrowhawk, but I didn't know for sure, because I never knew their range covered Northeast Kentucky, Red-Tails being the only raptors in the area that I knew of. Now we have some few Eagles, and the occasional osprey around the lakes and reservoirs due to reintroduction and some few migratory pairs. But I always wondered what Henry was, and I'd forgot all about him til I saw this picture. Thanks for the memory, and the chuckles.
KY Jim

Yeah, sparrowhawks hover and drop. Evidently they go after insects. This photo, with the leg laces (whatever they're called) looks to be someone's "hunter."

Raptors have a sort of "ratchet" in their talons. When they grab prey, the tendons lock up in their sheathes, allowing for a tight grip without a lot of expended energy or exposure to fatigue.

Friend of mine, Master Falconer, had a Harris' Hawk. I'd walk the fields with this bird on a gloved hand. My arm would get tired and the "perch" would get lower and lower. So "Cochino" would hop onto my hat as a perch. And the talons go right through the cotton hat and into the scalp! Ouch!

Takes one time to learn about keeping the "perch" up in the air.

Ages ago there was a parrot in a thrift shop, in a cage over one of the racks. He'd not only talk, but call crows through the open door of the shop, from on the sidewalk outside.

Evidently he was owned by someone in an arcade, because he'd make pinball machine noises. Evidently the previous owner was a smoker, because he'd "hack" and "cough."

Anyway, he's sitting in his cage, over the clothes rack.

"Hey! Come'ere."

"Hey! Come'ere."

So my Ex heads over to see him. She sticks her finger in the cage to see if he'll perch on it. He bites her hard! And then he chuckles.

I stuck my finger in a parrot cage once and got bit. The owner watches me jump and says, "Ohhhhhhh hey! That's Nasty Jack."

Henry sounds like a great save. Good work!