We have had a hawk looming around the farm for some time now. The hawk has snatched a few chickens and has become more "brave" in the last few weeks. He would sit at the barn, waiting to grab a chicken, even with people there making plenty of noise. A couple of weeks ago I walked outside and found him sitting on the fence in our back yard. It was then that I made it very clear to my husband that the hawk had to go. Immediately. Sure it was bad that he had already killed a few chickens, but hanging out in our backyard, um, bring out the shotguns, please. So Jody has tried several times to shoot him. Jody is a great shot, but couldn't ever get him. His Daddy was sure he had killed him one afternoon only to discover he had killed a buzzard. Everyone around knew about the hawk and knew that we wanted him gone. And today it happened. He was flying near the barn this morning and one of the boys that helps around the farm was able to shoot him.
But that's not the end of the story.
I had a tough night last with Will and his top teeth that refuse to make their entrance. So when he woke up at 7:15 this morning I didn't know how I was going to function. My sweet husband took him and the other two boys out so I could go back to sleep. And sleep I did. Until 10:30. What woke me? The sound of my boys playing outside? No. The smell of breakfast cooking? Um, no. The telephone? Again, no.
I was awakened by my husband opening the door to our room and calling my name. Through blurry eyes I saw him holding something large. Jack was standing beside him and said, "Look, Mama. Look. The hawk! The hawk!" I sat up and nearly climbed up the headboard. There was my husband holding that huge, dead hawk under his arm like he was a pet. A parakeet or something. I screamed to "get it out of my house" and I must have said it with enough fear and panic that my husband knew I wasn't kidding. He took that nasty thing out of my house and laid him in the driveway. He had the nerve to ask me to take pictures of the boys with the bird to which I might have shot him a nasty look. So he grabbed my camera and took pictures of his prize.
Seriously, look at this thing. Talk about fear. Birds freak me out. It's no secret. But all fears have levels. A hummingbird or robin...slight raise in my pulse and maybe a little sweating. Chickens, large tropical birds, geese...major heart racing, clenched hands, walking very, very fast, intense sweating, likely nausea. Eagles, hawks, owls, ostriches...call the coroner, I'm a dead woman.
Look at the claws on that thing. I am sweating as I type. I can hear my heart beating in my ears. Hello, nausea.
Had he brought that thing any closer to me this morning, you would be reading about my funeral arrangements. The inside of my nose is raw from smelling Lysol all day. I used an entire can to kill any lingering germs or bird dander. And tonight my husband informed me that he pulled out the feathers so the boys could dress up as Indians and that he couldn't wait to show me the talons. Yes, he cut them off. Yes, he intends on saving them. That's it. I'm a dead woman. It's been nice knowing you.
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