The mountain was already crowded when the first Saf, a Eurasian Sparrowhawk, was released by “The Uncle” (Al Khal) as people call him. Below it, children pressed against the edge of the fence; older men watched from the shade, and falconers locked their eyes upward. For a moment, the mountain fell quiet. Then whistles and cheers cut through the silence as the Saf swooped down on its prey.
This scene unfolded on June 25, 2026, during the 57th edition of the Saf Festival a celebration of the region’s long-standing falconry tradition held annually since 1967. The festival takes place in El Haouaria, a coastal town at the northern tip of the Cap Bon Peninsula, where the mountains meet the Mediterranean and the coastline narrows toward the sea.
El Haouaria lies along a major seasonal migration route for birds crossing between Africa and Europe. Its mountain, surrounded by the sea on three sides, serves as a natural landmark and resting point along their route, according to Hedi Ben Faraj, president of the Regional Association of Falconers.
“I consider us lucky, as a region, to witness thousands of migratory birds crossing the El Haouaria–Sicily Strait each year on their journey north,” Ben Faraj told Meshkal.
His association, together with the Association of Bird Lovers, also documents and monitors the different species that pass through the region.
A Heritage Rooted in History
Falconry has long been woven into the life of El Haouaria, where generations of residents have practiced the traditional art of hunting with birds of prey. The region became particularly known for raising and training raptors, especially the Eurasian Sparrowhawk, known in Arabic as the bashik (الباشق) but called in local dialect the Saf, according to Amine Mekki’s unpublished master’s thesis, “Falconry: A Cultural Heritage of El Haouaria”.
The Saf was traditionally used as a hunting tool to catch quail, much as a firearm or other hunting method might be used. But locals only use the Saf now for the festival between March and the end of June, when their migration route brings them to the area.
More than a hunting practice, falconry has been part of El Haouaria’s cultural heritage and a way of life, carrying social and economic significance. According to Amine Mekki’s research, using Saf for hunting was historically a livelihood–either to hunt or to catch and sell to hunters. The spring migration coincides with spring and early summer, when many local farmers face financial hardship because many staple crops like grain are not yet ripe, while legumes still require labor before they can be harvested. As a result, spring was often a season of scarcity and food insecurity. The Saf was used to hunt quail, which became part of the region’s traditional food heritage.
The exact origins of falconry in El Haouaria are difficult to trace, but its presence in the region is preserved through generations of oral memory. For local falconers, history lives in the stories, practices and knowledge passed from one generation to the next.
Ben Faraj, the president of the falconry association, traces the tradition back four or five centuries, drawing on his own family’s oral history.
“This is a heritage…. said to go back to the Ottoman period, although it may have existed even before then… at least 400 or 500 years, with generations passing it down in El Haouaria,” said Ben Faraj. “I grew up with my grandfather…He himself learned this tradition from his grandfather.”
From Migration to the Hunt
The official capture season runs from March to the end of April, after which the Saf undergoes a gradual process of taming and training that continues until the end of June, when the hunting season ends.
“There are two traditional methods of capturing Saf: fixed nets and mobile nets,” Ben Faraj explained. “After capture, the bird is placed on a specific diet. We feed it, but we do not let it become completely full, so that it loses some of its body fat. If we feed it until it is completely satisfied, it will stop hunting because it hunts instinctively. It has never hunted for humans or for competitions. It hunts to satisfy its hunger.”
On the day of the competition, for example, the bird is not fed at all. It continues hunting during the competition and eats what it catches.
The training, however, extends beyond preparing the bird to hunt. It also involves gradually building trust between the Saf and its handler, particularly as the bird is introduced to crowds and unfamiliar environments.
“The bird is also gradually accustomed to crowds and public places so that it remains calm and feels safe with its trainer. It also needs to be fed directly from the trainer’s hand. During the first few days, it may refuse because building trust is not easy. But eventually, a bond develops between the bird and its trainer,” Ben Faraj added.
In the early stages of training, the bird is physically connected to the falconer by a short cord, allowing it to become accustomed to returning to its handler. As training progresses, the cord is no longer held by the falconer but remains attached to the bird’s leg, functioning as a psychological cue. The bird associates the sensation of the cord with the limits of its flight and with returning to its handler.
“Once the cord is removed, it no longer comes back,” said Ben Faraj.
For Ben Faraj, how the birds pursue and capture prey is part of the spectacle and is taken into consideration when the birds are evaluated in the festival.
The techniques involved in capturing, handling and training the Saf are only one part of the tradition. Equally important is how this knowledge is passed from one generation to the next, often through family participation.
“Every year, we open the Saf hunting season with what is known as the “Kharjet El Bayaz”, the falconer’s hunting outing, in a family-friendly atmosphere. I take my three children, aged 13, 9, and 5, as well as my wife, and we go camping in the Tazraref area, which is close to where I live in Mansab El Bab. It is also close to the falconers’ headquarters because the land belonged to my ancestors. My grandfather, Omayra Ben Kahla, was one of the oldest falconers in the region,” said Amine Ben Kahla, director of the festival.
For Ben Faraj, this kind of family participation is key to the tradition’s survival:
“This heritage is passed down naturally. We have never had someone from outside the region come to us asking to learn how to raise and train these birds. Everyone inherited the tradition from their families, whether from an uncle, grandfather, or father. As we say, from one generation to the next.” Ben Faraj said.
Beyond the Saf: A Different Kind of Bond
Nevertheless, the Saf is not the only bird at the heart of El Haouaria’s falconry tradition. The Borni, or Peregrine Falcon, is another native bird used in falconry. Unlike the migratory Saf, which passes through El Haouaria seasonally, the Borni lives among the rocks overlooking the Mediterranean and has become deeply associated with the landscape and the community’s falconry tradition, according to Ben Faraj.
“There are several types [of Borni]: some live inland… while others inhabit coastal areas. The ones we have in El Haouaria are more aggressive. They live among the rocks and the sea, and they hunt birds they spot approaching from the sea. It is stronger than the Saf and can prey on it. It has an extremely powerful dive, reaching speeds of up to 380 km/h when striking its prey. However, unlike the Saf, it is not as skilled at evasive manoeuvres.”
The differences between the two birds extend beyond their behavior in the wild. They also shape the way falconers relate to them. While the Saf is a seasonal companion, trained for a limited period before being returned to the wild, the Borni can remain with its handler for years, becoming part of the family itself. That bond is particularly visible among the younger generation, for whom falconry is not simply something to watch during the festival, but a tradition they are learning to carry forward.
“I treat my Borni the same way I treat my children or better. Just as a mother feeds her child, I feed my Borni,” said Mohamed Tabib, a falconer from El Haouaria.
For Fadi Ben Hmida, a 30-year-old professional volleyball player and participating falconer, that attachment is equally personal.
“My relationship with my Borni, I called her Baya, is a family relationship. I love her very much and take great care of her. I had a tracking device placed on her leg so that, God forbid, if she ever gets lost, I can find her. As a child, I was drawn to the Borni more than the Saf because I see it as a free bird, flying through the sky as if it owns it. You call it, and it comes to you. It is different from the Saf, which follows its prey.”
Keeping the Tradition Alive
The clearest sign that falconry is still being carried into the future can be seen among the youngest faces in the crowd. Children were everywhere at the festival, watching from behind the barriers, following the competition and, for some, taking part themselves under the supervision of adults.
At just four years old, Younes Tabib is already taking his first steps into the tradition. His father, Mohamed Tabib, says the boy had been coming to the association every day for nearly two months, training with his cousin and preparing to take part in the festival’s honorary participation.
Also among the youngest participants was 16-year-old Sabrine Cherif, whose relationship with the Borni began at home.
“I fell in love with the Borni when I was very young. I found my father raising one, and he was the one who passed this love on to me. My father taught me from a young age how to handle it, feed it, hold it and tame it. I loved it from that moment on,” Cherif told Meshkal.
Encouraged by both her parents, she began taking part in the festival’s “honorary throw” of the bird at around 13 or 14. At her age, her participation remains honorary and takes place under adult supervision, as participants must reach the legal age of 18 to obtain a falconry license.
Challenging a Male-Dominated Tradition
Sabrine’s presence, however, is unusual in a tradition that remains largely male-dominated. She was the only girl participating in the Borni category, while 23-year-old Wissal Bou Aicha was the festival’s only female licensed falconer, holding a license for the Saf.
For Wissal, the path into falconry began in childhood, but it took years before she became a practitioner herself. She first learned about the tradition from her uncle and spent years attending the festival as a spectator. Her passion was reignited after she met her fiancé, who comes from a family of falconers and encouraged her to enter the world she had long watched from the sidelines. She obtained her Saf license three years ago and went on to win first place in the 2024 competition.
“All the hunters and license holders are men. I received a great deal of encouragement and support from my fellow hunters, as I am the only female falconer and the only one who holds a Saf license. I especially want to encourage girls to enter this world and discover it without being afraid. Unfortunately, there is very little participation from girls, and I want to tell them: I am with you,” said Wissal.
For Sabrine, her bond with the Borni is inseparable from its place within her family.
“The Borni lives with us throughout its entire life and becomes part of our family. It is not like the Saf: once you have trained it and it has become accustomed to you, you release it,” she said.
For Wissal, however, separation is an inevitable part of the relationship with the Saf.
“I hope the festival continues and that I can keep participating every year and pass this love on to my own children. It is very difficult for me, and for every falconer, to release the Saf after becoming accustomed to it and growing attached to it. It is a beautiful thing that the Borni can live its entire life with you and that you do not have to experience that separation. But it is even more rewarding when I see the Saf return to the wild and continue living its life, carrying a part of us with it.”
Between Tradition and Regulation
Keeping a tradition alive, however, requires more than passing knowledge from one generation to the next. It also depends on the rules and institutions that allow falconers to practice the tradition while protecting the birds at its center. Tunisia’s Forestry Code provides the legal framework governing the capture, possession and training of these birds, while forest authorities are responsible for monitoring their treatment.
“The Saf is subject to regulations intended to protect the birds and ensure their return to the wild. Under the supervision of the Regional Commissariat for Agricultural Development of Nabeul and the Kelibia sub-district, we are responsible for monitoring the Saf, particularly during the festival,” said Daoud Ben Slimane, a forest ranger in El Haouaria.
“Once the festival ends, we contact the licensed falconers and ask them to bring us their Saf birds. We then release them in a safe area with access to water, in a monitored forest, in order to prevent any attempt to recapture the birds after they have been released.”
The rules do not end with the release of the birds. They also govern who can participate and how the Saf must be treated while in a falconer’s care. Daoud Ben Slimane explained:
“According to the participation regulations, a falconer must be well-mannered and respectful, and the association must approve their participation before they can obtain a hunting license. The Saf itself must be well cared for and in good condition. It must be healthy, with clean and well-maintained feathers. If a Saf is found in a condition that does not meet these requirements, the penalty can go as far as having the falconer’s license revoked. There are violations every year, but the numbers remain low.”
A Festival Surviving on Local Solidarity
For more than half a century, the Saf Festival has survived largely through the commitment of the people who inherited it. But that commitment has increasingly had to compensate for a lack of financial resources and limited institutional support.
“We don’t even have enough money for the simplest things needed to organize the festival properly. The association has no money. The festival committee raises around one or two thousand dinars through individual contributions. Local residents, people from the region, donate money every year so that the festival can take place.” said Daoud Ben Slimane, the forest ranger.
For Ben Slimane, the problem is not new. He has watched the festival struggle for several years, despite its long history and the continued commitment of the local community.
“We inherited this festival from our ancestors. It is a shame to see it gradually declining. It has been severely struggling for four or five years now. A festival which lasts for four days does not have a budget. I am 54 years old, and the festival is older than I am.”
Fadi Ben Hmida, a participating falconer, pointed to the conditions at the falconry club, where spectators lack basic facilities and falconers face difficulties providing for the birds.
“One of the problems we face in relation to this sport is infrastructure. At the falconry club, as you can see, there are no stands. When people come, they have nowhere to sit. We also have difficulties providing healthy food for the birds.”
Ben Hmida believes the issue goes beyond the festival itself. He sees falconry as a traditional sport whose recognition and preservation requires greater public support.
“This is a very old sport, known among Arabs and princes, and I hope the state will officially recognize it and that its reputation will extend beyond Cap Bon and reach young people throughout the country. As a hunter, I am not seeing any support from the state, either for me personally or for efforts to preserve this heritage,” he added.
Yet not all the festival’s organizers describe their relationship with public institutions in the same way. While some participants spoke openly about the lack of state funding and inadequate infrastructure, Amine Ben Kahla, the festival’s director, chose to highlight the support the event has received, while acknowledging that direct financial assistance remains limited.
“The festival is funded through the association, which receives membership fees, as well as income from a commercial exhibition and donations from association members. However, this is not enough.”
“To be fair, the Regional Directorate of Cultural Affairs has supported us by providing three funded performances. They have also provided us with institutions and prepared spaces where we organized Children’s Day under the slogan ‘Today’s Child, Tomorrow’s Falconer.’ There is moral support. However, in terms of financial support, there is a lack of funding. That is why we have developed a strategy to strengthen the association’s own sources of income.”
Can the Festival Survive?
For 57 editions, the Saf Festival has survived through the commitment of the people who inherited it. But its longevity has not been matched by the state recognition its organizers say it deserves. The festival sits at the intersection of several public responsibilities: the Saf is regulated by the Ministry of Agriculture; the event is a cultural heritage gathering; its setting gives it potential for tourism, and its survival depends on the protection of the natural environment in which the birds migrate and rest.
For Daoud Ben Slimane, this should make the festival a shared responsibility rather than one left primarily to the local community.
“Just as the hunter has a responsibility to protect the environment and the bird, the ministry also has a responsibility to protect the hunters and guarantee their rights,” he said.
He also called on cultural and tourism authorities to recognize the festival as part of Tunisia’s cultural landscape, particularly because of the young audience it continues to attract.
“As for the Minister of Culture, I ask you to pay attention to young people. This is their culture. It is a cultural event whose audience is predominantly young people, so I hope the state and all the institutions concerned will give this festival the recognition it deserves. The Minister of Tourism should also attend, along with the Minister of Culture. They are the ones who can help revive the festival.”
The gap between the festival’s importance to the community and the attention it receives was visible on June 25 itself. The competition was scheduled to begin at 4:30 p.m., but by nearly 6 p.m., the invited officials had still not arrived. The falconers and spectators were left waiting on the mountain for the ceremony to begin.
“I am sure the Governor of El Haouaria has sent invitations to all the relevant authorities,” Ben Slimane assured Meshkal around 6 p.m. that day.
For a festival that has managed to survive for nearly six decades, the delay reflected the wider tension surrounding El Haouaria’s falconry tradition: the community continues to invest time, money and knowledge into keeping it alive, while the institutions that could help secure its future remain inconsistently engaged.
The Ecological Impacts of Climate Change
The Saf Festival depends on a seasonal cycle that may itself be changing. According to Hedi Ben Faraj, the Falconry association president, climate fluctuations in recent years have altered the Saf‘s migration patterns and created new pressures on the local ecosystem.
While the Saf traditionally passes through Tunisia as part of its migration between Europe and Africa, Ben Faraj says rising temperatures in parts of Europe are altering that pattern.
“In spring, when temperatures rise in southern Africa, it returns to Europe. But because of climate change, Eastern Europe has become much hotter for the birds, and they have begun choosing to remain in El Haouaria, where they breed.I am a hunter, and I know these birds. I have started seeing Saf throughout the entire year, rather than only during the migration season.”
For Ben Faraj, the change also has consequences beyond migration. He says the growing presence of the Saf is putting pressure on other bird populations in the surrounding forests, as the species consumes large quantities of prey.
“Even the presence of just four Saf birds in a single mountain can be enough to wipe out the creatures living in their surroundings because these birds eat a lot, an average of five or six birds a day. Imagine what happens when their numbers become very large.”
Yet the falconers cannot simply intervene by reducing the population. The Saf is a protected species, meaning that it cannot be killed to control its numbers. For now, Ben Faraj says, they can only observe the changes and allow nature to take its course.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.