Laura Swartz lifted her arm parallel to floor. A red-tailed hawk dug into her denim shirt. The steady arch of his beak feigned nonchalance, but his eyes captured every tiny motion in the room.
Swartz wore a heavy canvas glove for protection. Her movements were sure, rehearsed. She spread the hawk’s right wing. An audience of forty Las Vegas residents leaned forward to examine the raptor’s plumage.
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