Mama Says Knock You Out

I am not exactly what one might call "maternal." When a child starts crying or whining, I look to the nearest Mommy (theirs or otherwise) and beseech, "Can you fix this?" I'm pretty sure if I hold a baby incorrectly, their head will fall off and I'll be in all sorts of trouble. And childbirth...not magical.

Nevertheless, when someone (or some creature) messes with my corollary to babies, I get pretty damned protective. So imagine what went down as I pulled in from work this afternoon and saw one of my roosters running across the drive like a bat out of hell. (Yes. I have chickens. I'm like a real life Dorothy Gale and shit. Moving. On.) We do occasionally let them out to run amuck, but this little guy had a bit too much hitch in his giddy up for me to brush it off. I parked, grabbed all my crap, and exited my car, only to be assaulted by the most horrid noise I could imagine.

I ran around to the backyard as I heard a few of the chickens yelping and carrying on like banshees. I initially thought they must be fighting with each other (which has yet to happen, but, as I refuse to give up all roosters but one, may likely occur any day now), but then it hit me that something else was at play. Something was very, very wrong, and this time, throwing a shoe wasn't going to do the trick.

I yelled (my first reaction in most situations, especially those in which I am not quite sure what to do) at the feathers flying around within the flowerbed, and suddenly I saw a dark figure move very quickly to the garden. About this time my mom came running out of the house and immediately laid eyes on the figured I'd seen.

"No. No. No, no, no, no!"

And then I saw it. A giant hawk with one of our little hens in its clutches, prepared to take off with her shivering in its grasp.

Oh. Hell. No.

I ran over, fists clenched, yelling at the top of my lungs, "Let her go, you mother f***er!!"

(For the record: hawks don't like it when you cuss them out. Just so ya know.)

He paused, started to take off, then dropped her and flew off into the horizon, my mom's airborne shoe barely missing his giant wing.

I don't know what is ultimately to become of my little hen as she is roosting, obviously shaken up, a little bloody, and hot messed up. I hope she makes it through the night and gets her sass back. But I am still amazed at how quickly I lunged after that ginormous bird to save ladybird. I mean, what the hell did I think I was going to do to that hawk? Have you seen their talons? They're not effing around. But I would have gladly given that damn bird the fisticuffs of his life if that's what it took to save my girl.

The moral of the story: sometimes, an F-bomb can save a life. Write that down.