The desert wind carries a silence that is both ancient and absolute. For centuries, that silence was broken by the sharp cry of a falcon and the soft whir of its wings slicing through the air. This was the sound of falconry, an art form woven into the very fabric of Middle Eastern culture. It was more than a method of hunting; it was a symbiotic relationship between man and bird, a testament to patience, respect, and a deep understanding of the natural world. Known in Arabic as ‘Al Saqarah’, it was the sport of kings, sheikhs, and nomadic Bedouins alike, a practice that defined social status and survival in the harsh expanse of the desert.
Imagine a time before sprawling metropolises and superhighways crisscrossed the Arabian Peninsula. Life was a rhythmic dance with the seasons, dictated by the availability of water and grazing for camels. In this world, the falcon was an indispensable partner. A trained bird could provide fresh meat for the tribe, hunting prey like the Houbara bustard or desert hares, which would otherwise be impossible for a human to catch on foot. The bond between the falconer, or saqqar, and his bird was forged over months of meticulous, patient training. It began with a process called ‘manning’, where the falconer would carry the wild-caught bird on his gloved fist for days, even sleeping with it, until the raptor accepted the human presence as non-threatening. This was a dialogue without words, built on trust and routine.
The Golden Age of Al Saqarah
During its zenith, falconry was an intricate and respected discipline. The most prized birds were the Peregrine falcon (Shaheen) and the Saker falcon (Hurr), renowned for their speed, intelligence, and hunting prowess. Training was a guarded tradition passed down through generations. The falconer would use a leather hood, the burqa, to keep the bird calm and focused, removing it only when it was time to hunt. The lure, or tilwah, often baited with meat and swung on a long cord, was used to train the falcon to return to its master. This wasn’t about domination; it was about creating a partnership where the bird would willingly fly free, hunt, and then choose to return to the falconer’s glove.
The hunt itself was a spectacle of strategy and skill. The falconer would ride on camel or horseback, scanning the horizon for signs of prey. Once spotted, the hood was removed, and with a whispered command, the bird was cast into the air. What followed was a breathtaking aerial ballet. The falcon would climb high into the sky, becoming a mere speck against the brilliant blue, before folding its wings and diving at astonishing speeds—a stoop that could exceed 300 kilometers per hour. This deep cultural significance meant that falcons were treated with immense reverence, often considered part of the family, sharing food and shelter with their human companions.
The Unraveling of a Tradition
The 20th century brought changes that swept across the Middle East with the force of a sandstorm, and the ancient art of falconry found itself struggling to survive the tide of modernity. The discovery of oil transformed societies almost overnight. Nomadic lifestyles gave way to settled, urban living. The vast, open deserts that were the falcon’s hunting grounds were suddenly fragmented by roads, cities, and industrial zones. The practical need for a hunting bird diminished rapidly as markets and modern conveniences became commonplace.
Technology also played a crucial role in its decline. The rifle replaced the falcon as the primary tool for hunting, offering an efficiency that the bird, for all its grace, could not match. The traditional camelback hunts were replaced by fleets of four-wheel-drive vehicles, altering the pace and spirit of the chase. This new form of hunting, while effective, lacked the subtlety and the profound connection to nature that defined traditional falconry. The intimate partnership between man and bird was overshadowed by the power of the internal combustion engine and gunpowder.
The shift was not just practical but also ecological. The modernization of hunting practices led to a severe decline in the populations of traditional prey, most notably the Houbara bustard. This, combined with the unregulated trapping of wild falcons to meet growing demand, pushed many raptor species to the brink. The very ecosystem that had sustained falconry for millennia was now under threat.
A Modern Revival with an Ancient Soul?
Just as it seemed the art might fade into memory, a concerted effort began to preserve this vital piece of cultural heritage. Today, falconry is experiencing a resurgence, but it is a different creature from its ancestral form. It has transformed from a means of survival into a highly regulated heritage sport, a passion project for wealthy enthusiasts, and a powerful symbol of national identity, particularly in the UAE, Qatar, and Saudi Arabia.
Modern falconry is a blend of ancient tradition and cutting-edge technology. Captive-breeding programs have become the primary source for birds, reducing the pressure on wild populations. These state-of-the-art facilities produce strong, healthy falcons, ensuring the continuation of noble bloodlines. On the hunt, GPS transmitters are attached to the birds’ legs, allowing falconers to track their prized raptors across vast distances, a safety net unimaginable to their forefathers. Major competitions and festivals, sponsored by royal families, offer staggering prizes and celebrate the skill of the modern saqqar.
Recognizing the importance of this cultural practice, UNESCO inscribed falconry on its Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. This international acknowledgment highlights the global significance of falconry not just as a hunting method but as a living human heritage. It also reinforces the modern emphasis on conservation and the ethical, sustainable practices championed by today’s falconry clubs and associations across the region.
Yet, a question lingers in the desert air. Is this modern, high-tech version the same art form practiced by the Bedouins? The core skills of training and building a bond with the bird remain. The patience, the intuition, and the deep respect for the raptor are still paramount. However, the context has irrevocably changed. What was once a silent, spiritual contract between a man, his bird, and the harshness of the desert is now a celebrated, televised sport. The “art” has not been entirely lost, but it has been profoundly transformed—preserved in a new vessel for a new era. The whir of falcon wings still cuts through the air, but it now echoes with a different story, one of survival not against the elements, but against the relentless march of time itself.
