Donors

Alan Beske, Bryan Culbertson, Mike Dupuy, Francine

Forrester, Sean Gallagher, John Harrell, Charles Harry,

H. P. Lee, Stanley Marcus, William Mattox, Michael Perry,

Marek Plater, F. P. Ward, Michael Yates

I don’t recall when or where I met Lou—it was

probably on Assateague Island or when I was

visiting Corny McFadden—but sometime in the

1960s we became close friends after he moved

his family to within a few miles of my home. We

were both hustling the buck at the time, but

we found time to innovate falconry issues like

designing better fitting hoods, more effective

trapping equipment, and telemetry in pursuit of

our passion. Most important, we trapped and

hawked together.

Our finest hours together were, of course, in

the field, at a time when falconry was a rare

anachronism without enabling legislation, and

all raptors, with the exception of accipiters and

hoot owls were protected and therefore a gray

area in the law at best.

In 1963-64, the Maryland authorities were

aware that some men from the Tri-state area

were trapping peregrine falcons on Assateague

Island, Maryland, each fall, but they were totally

ignorant of how this was done. I recall an inci-

dent where Corny took the local warden out

for a day on his sailboat, while Lou swept the

beaches clean of falcons. Rumor has it that Dr.

Squeaky Clean Bill Maddox was also involved in

this charade. Some of us were forced to swim

the channel with birds to avoid taking the ferry

toward a possible confrontation, and on at least

one occasion the warden had an untimely flat

tire and was precluded from giving chase. All

rumors, no doubt, but a sign of volatile times

ahead.

When Corny and Lou arrived home that year,

Pennsylvania wardens were waiting. They visited

me as well but did not confiscate any birds.

We were given six months to pass a law legal-

izing falconry. Lou and I mounted the usual

letter-writing campaign and visited legislators.

The opposition was unaware of our bill until

it passed overwhelmingly in the Pennsylvania

House of Representatives.

Things changed. Both Audubon and the Hawk

Mountain Sanctuary Association mounted ag-

gressive campaign to kill our bill in the Senate.

We were outgunned and out manned! The

day of the Senate vote, Lou and I entered the

Senate chambers with a dog-tame eyas tiercel

Peale’s peregrine. We were immediately sur-

rounded by senators asking questions, which

we politely answered. Suddenly, one of the sen-

ators asked if Senator “so and so” could touch

the bird, and I started to explain that birds were

not like dogs, when another senator whispered

in my ear that Senator “so and so” is blind.

Immediately I asked the blind senator if he

would like to hold the unhooded falcon on his

fist? With a scowl he nodded “yes.” After a few

seconds a broad smile broke out over his face as

he exclaimed, “ooooo prickly feet!” All the other

senators smiled as well. We held our breath as

the vote was cast. We needed 26 votes to win,

and that was exactly what we got.

Lou and I had worked long and hard to make

this happen, but it was the impression made

by two clean-cut well-dressed young men and

a bird that made it happen. Maryland also ap-

proved falconry as a field sport that year, among

the forerunners of legalization. Maryland issued

nonresident take permits for peregrines until

the Federal Endangered Species Act shut down

all trapping of the species in 1970.

Lou found it hard to adapt to life without beach

peregrines; trapping a new bird or two each

year had been a major part of his falconry.

Lou’s mentor, Corny McFadden, succumbed to

an untimely death during this period, which

was a blow to all who knew him. Lou also had

domes

tic problems at home and was soon di-

vorced.

Lou and I saw each other socially, and I am

pleased to recall that Lou met Sandy Malek

Benjamin at a party at my home many years

ago, and it was love at first sight for both of

them. They have been inseparable ever since.

Since moving to Wyoming in 1978, I only saw

Lou at the few falconry meets I attended. Old

friends are good friends, and our infrequent

meetings were joyous reunions. Lou’s memory

will always be a part of me! — by Bob Berry

NAFA JOURNAL 2009, Vol. 48

Excerpts from Tributes to Lou

Woyce from the NAFA Journal 2009

Lou Woyce passed away on May 24, 2009 near his

home outside Berlin, MD at the age of 81. Lou had

been ill with various ailments for some time and, ac-

cording to his wife Sandy, died peacefully and will-

ingly.

Lou should certainly have had no regrets. He had

moved in 1990 to a house near Assateague Island

beach, where he was able to live a retirement life of

flying favorite falcons and seeing the annual autumn

passage of his beloved peregrines. Through last fall

he rode the beach to band peregrines with Mike

Yates and Bill Seegar.

I met Lou in the late part of 1949 when a small

group of us went out to “Widener’s” near

Philadelphia to watch Carl Schreiber fly his passage

peregrine. Less than a year later Lou was drafted into

the U.S. Army and spent time in Korea as a recon

leader.

Louis Charles Woyce, Jr. was born in the Mt. Airy

section of Philadelphia on March 27, 1928. His fam-

ily was half Polish and half Irish. He was one of

four kids, and attended LaSalle Prep School where

he was City champ in the long jump. He attended

LaSalle College where he was on the swim team and

starred on the track team; he was Middle Atlantic

Conference champion in the long jump.

After his stint in the Army, Lou worked for IBM

and in 1962 joined West Virginia Pulp & Paper

Corporation. He always flew falcons, never short-

wings. After protection of the endangered peregrine

he flew a saker, prairie falcons, and various hybrids.

Lou was an intense, dedicated falconer, a leader of

the so-called Corny’s Army, trapping with McFadden

on the beach and flying at Widener’s. When Corny

conned young falconry neophytes to undertake

various chores around his place, I don’t think Lou

was taken in too badly. He taught himself to make

hoods, using blocks and patterns of his friend Bob

Widmeier. Lou was always innovating; he is, with

Widmeier, credited with the “smiley face” beak open-

ing of the Dutch hood he made with unusual skill.

Lou also made fine blocks. He was known for his

high-flying falcons. Lou had unusually keen eyesight,

was an athletic man, strong, personable, and loyal.

I corresponded with Lou for years, especially when

I lived overseas. I learned most about Lou’s activi-

ties from Corny McFadden, who had an old portable

typewriter on which he cranked out letters to falcon-

ers from USA to Holland, Belgium, and the UK.

Lou’s service in the Army in Korea prevented him

from going to Greenland with Corny in 1951. But

you would think that he’d been there because he

knew all the stories front to back! And he savored

the times flying the prized white gyr with Corny, who

was so casual about everything that it drove Lou up

the wall! That casualness finally lost a good white

hawk.

A good, strong man’s-man has left us. Falconry ben-

efited in untold ways from this craftsman falconer.

— by Bill Mattox

Lou was the real thing. An Army combat veteran of

the Korean War, he was earlier a lifeguard at Ocean

City, NJ. He briefly dated Grace Kelly before the

world became her stage. A 1964 Saturday Evening

Post article by Bob Berry featured a full-color photo

of Lou in a mid-air dive to secure a noosed per-

egrine on Assateague Island. I met Lou over four

decades ago at joint gatherings we D.C. area and

Pennsylvania falconers held. I also encountered him

during trapping expeditions at Assateague. I didn’t

get to know him well then, but was always grate-

ful that men like Woyce, Berry, Rice, Nye, McDonald

and Gatti took the time to eventually befriend punk

kids like me. Through the fog of time I remember

that Lou’s birds often flew the highest and the best

during falconry gatherings. He was also one of the

premier beach trappers, and I wanted desperately to

emulate all his attributes.

Lou and Sandy bought land in the 1980s on the

mainland looking across the bay to Assateague and

built their retirement home. They moved there upon

Lou’s 1990 retirement and he soon began to fly fal-

cons again. We renewed and expanded our acquain-

tance, and he became a fixture in my truck during

the autumn surveys whenever he wished (which

was often). We became fast friends, and through

our long talks I learned of the qualities that made

him such a success as a falconer and a man. He

was steadfast, resolute, thoughtful, giving, humor-

ous and self-deprecating. Lou was not, however, all

sweetness and light. He had an acute BS detector,

no respect for those who did not properly care for

their birds, and no tolerance for fools or braggarts.

To my knowledge, he excelled at every endeavor to

which he applied his considerable talents and ener-

gies. Lou had few peers as an equipment maker, and

was constantly surprising me with gifts of his latest

gear. It might be a beautiful hood that fit my hybrid

perfectly, a leash or swivel, or even a falcon block he

crafted from washed-up timbers we had collected on

Assateague during breaks in trapping. He sold that

gear, but it was never about the money. Lou’s satis-

faction came from having his creations in the hands

of those who could truly appreciate them and would

use them to elevate the quality of their falconry.

His stories were captivating and, if you missed some

details in any one you could count on hearing it

again before too long. I enjoyed the early beach

trapping tales and those of flights with some of his

favorite falcons, such as the saker “Kismet” and the

first-year haggard beach bird “Rags”. Many of Lou’s

tales involved Corny McFadden, whom he idolized.

I knew Corny as well, and he was an imposing and

iconic figure in early American falconry. But while

Lou knew he was a much more proficient falconer,

he probably never came to understand that his own

accomplishments and lasting influence on our cul-

ture far exceeded those of his mentor. Some of my

favorite stories were those where Lou enjoyed and

provided a good laugh at his own expense. One of

those involved the perfumed letter he received after

publication of the Saturday Evening Post photo, and

his smiling anticipation as he read the fawning words

of admiration and attraction from the writer. The rev-

elation that the signature read “John” never failed to

elicit a hearty laugh from all present.

In February the time had come for me to take cus-

tody of Lou’s beloved 13-year-old hybrid tiercel

“Arrow” as I had promised a couple of years back.

Lou honored me by entrusting Arrow to my care.

I flew east to see Lou two weeks before he passed

away, and his clarity of mind belied the ravages his

body had undergone. I showed him photos of trap-

ping peregrines in Texas, Greenland, Alaska and

Russia. He proudly presented me with one of his

beautiful and innovative “Khan” hoods. We talked

of September on Assateague and plans for trapping

together once more. Instead, we will be scattering

his ashes there where mine will ultimately reside. I

see Lou every day in Arrow when I visit his chamber,

and can’t wait to put him in the air this fall and thus

continue my bond with his partner. What is it about

falconry that attracts the best of men and women?

There may be no real answer to that question, but I

do know that Lou was among the best of men and

that we were all fortunate to have him in our ranks

and in our lives.

— by Mike Yates

I think most falconers can look back at their early

years and identify one or two individuals who

were very influential to them. For me it was Vic

Hardaswick and Lou Woyce. Vic found me at

Michigan State University. I was drowning in a sea

of ignorance and inexperience. It was 1960, I was 19

and had spent the last ten years without every meet-

ing an “Honest to God Falconer”. Vic was light years

ahead of me in experience. He knew all of these

wonderful falconers with names like Meng, Rice,

McFadden, Berry and Woyce, to name a few.

I had seen Lou’s picture in the Saturday Evening Post.

They were doing an article on trapping peregrines

on Assateague Island and wanted an action shot, so

Lou complied. The picture has Lou stretched full

out, in midair, diving on a harnessed peregrine.

Lou told me later that he would never approach a

trapped bird that way but it did make a very dramatic

photo. At Christmas break Vic invited me to visit him

in Connecticut. We headed to New Jersey to see

Lou, and he could not have been more gracious and

giving. He immediately started showing us how he

made his beautiful dutch hoods, and we left with

blocks and matching patterns. That’s how Lou was...

so giving and with no big ego to get in the way of be-

ing a genuinely nice guy. The next day Lou, Vic and

I headed for Philly to see Corny McFadden and Bob

Berry. As we raced down the turnpike with Lou driv-

ing, he kept pointing out distant raptors. Some were

so far way that I couldn’t see the tree, let alone the

bird. He had phenomenal eyes for spotting hawks.

That afternoon we went out with Corny to fly his

birds. He had a cast of beach birds that were all over

the sky. He kept asking Lou where were they, and

were they coming back? Lou was so patient with

him, and you could tell that they were very close

friends.

In the fall of 1965 I met up with Vic and Lou to

trap Assateague. This turned out to be one of the

greatest trips of my life. We headquartered in an at-

tic of a house that had succumbed to a hurricane.

The room was filled with screen perches loaded

with fresh-caught tundra birds. It was really some-

thing to behold. That night Corny invited all of us

over for a steak dinner. The wind was blowing the

sand around so hard we couldn’t keep it out of the

meat. No matter, as Corny was relating how he had

gone AWOL from the Army during WWII to look

up George Lodge, the famous British painter who

was so renowned for his works on falconry. Corny

obtained several of Lodge’s original paintings. They

adorned his home in Philly and were fabulous.

Eventually we trapped three birds, thanks to Lou’s

expertise and great eyes. He was very disciplined

in his approach to trapping. He always kept at least

two or three lure birds harnessed at all times. He

demanded that we be on the beach before any sign

of light was in the eastern sky. I thought he was

crazy when we set out to run the beach with the

headlights on. Sure enough, we found a peregrine

on a flicker it had just killed. It was totally dark! He

taught me the do’s and don’ts of trapping...to re-

spect the nooses and how to maintain them. Over

the years Lou sent me some wonderful birds, never

asking for anything back. He truly did make wonder-

ful hoods.

Eventually I sort of lost contact with Lou. I had

moved from Michigan to Washington so we were

a continent apart, but I have never forgotten the

kindness of this most gracious man. Lou Woyce

was a prince! If any of you has occasion to be on

Assateague Island the last week of September or the

first few weeks of October, keep a close lookout for a

phantom jeep being driven by a tall, lean, handsome

individual whose passenger is a hulk of a man with

bushy eyebrows and flowing white hair. I am sure it

will only be a quick glimpse as they disappear over a

distant dune. Odds are it is Lou and Corny, together

again and going like hell to get ahead of just one

more beach bird. Thank you Lou, for being you! I

am sure that God has blessed your soul.

— by Mike Perry

Some time in the early Sixties I had the good fortune

to meet Lou Woyce at Heinz Meng’s in N.Y. A fellow

falconer, H.B. Risley and I had traveled to Heinz’s to

watch him fly his passage peregrine. Lou happened

to stop by and, having heard of his falconry exploits

over the years, I was honored to actually meet the

man.

A long friendship of nearly fifty years developed from

that chance meeting in New Paltz. When Lou came

to our wedding in ’62, true to form, we were han-

dling a bird and Lou got footed in the chest. A bit

messy, but the ceremony went on as planned.

A few years later Lou invited me to spend a week or

two trapping on the coastal barrier beaches. These

trips spanned about ten years and to say Lou and I

had a great time is an understatement. From eating

freshly dug clams and enjoying soft shell crabs, bar-

gaining with the local fishermen for fresh-caught fish

and bathing in the surf, Lou was full of life and fun

to be with. I still chuckle at the photo of him skinny

dipping one afternoon on the outer banks of North

Carolina.

Lou was a great friend who is sorely missed by me

as well as the falconry community. He leaves a great

void and his memory will always be held in the high-

est esteem by all who knew him.

— by Vic Hardaswick