THE captor released his grip and the wild duck rose gratefully, quickly picking up speed as it flew west over the desert into the low afternoon sun.
Freedom would be short-lived.
A falconer, resplendent in the white dishdasha that flowed to his ankles, carefully removed the hood from the great bird that dug its talons into the protective leather strap around his wrist.
The falcon's piercing eyes locked on to the duck which had already gained 400 metres. The pursuit was on.
The duck was fast, but the predator gained rapidly, and within a minute it drew level, stabbing needle-sharp claws into its prey, and they plunged together towards the sand in a dance macabre of the sky.
Not the kind of conduct to draw respect from the RSPCA, but the Arabs around me were continuing an age-old tradition, a ritual which in the past saved many a bedouin from starvation in the desert wilderness.
I was in Dubai, one of the seven sovereign sheikhdoms that form the United Arab Emirates in the Gulf, a strange, compelling mixture of stark contrasts, ancient and modern walking hand in hand.
