The memoir's style is both confessional and documentary. Macdonald records tiny details and observations in the interest of understanding their emotional journey through grief and falconry. One good example is a passage in Chapter 10, when Macdonald congratulates themself on doing a better job with Mabel than T. H. White did with Gos:
I opened the curtains the next morning. The brightness of the room made me clearer, which concerned her for a while. But when a broad stripe of sunlight fell across her back she raised her feathers to greet it. Now, standing in a shallow bath next to her perch, she nibbles her toes, takes precise and tiny bites of water.
This passage's details would almost make it at home in a scientist or naturalist's field journal. The book is a repository of tiny observations about experimental procedures and hawk behavior, down to Mabel's toe-nibbling and "precise and tiny bites of water." At the same time, the passage is full of imagery that betrays emotion. The bright morning sunshine floods the room with hope that the two of them will get along. Macdonald clearly enjoys watching Mabel in the light. Hope is soon dashed when Macdonald tries and fails to hood Mabel, blocking out the light. If Macdonald is a sort of scientist or naturalist, they are not one who ascribes to objective distance. Their emotions are always informing the way they perceive what is in front of them.
Here and many other places in the book, Macdonald shifts verb tenses within the same passage. They initially "opened" the curtains (past tense), but soon Mabel is "standing in a shallow bath" (present tense). Macdonald's mixed verb tenses are almost certainly deliberate. They convey a sense of disorientation in time. Macdonald can lose themself in a memory of Mabel or of their father, and suddenly something that happened in the past is happening right now. In this way, the book offers the reader not only a description but also a taste of the way grief twisted Macdonald's timeline in on itself.