Eeeeew, those hawks, I have had two encounters over the past two months with them, never had an issue with them before, but this year things must be hard for them, no clue why, it has been no different than other years. Well, that I know of.
The first time, I was around, the hawk flew into one of the chicken yards and landed in a tree, just on the perimeter. I hollered and yelled at it and was running to it throwing sticks. It flew away. That was that. Everyone had hidden inside their houses or under some brushy stuff near the side of a pen. No rooster call that made an alarm that day, he must have been somewhere else.
The other day, I was doing some stuff inside the small chicken house. I heard the rooster scream. As you are saying Natalie, that sound that they make when they really mean business, is nothing on earth that you will ever forget. This I can only equate to a scream. The roosters spend their entire day watching the sky, the area around, everything, never foraging much, just watching. I heard Ivan scream, loud and clear and immediately went outside to see what was up. This sound makes my blood run cold, as I know it is a command from the rooster, not a warning, but a clear and present danger command. This command was given to all the chickens and roosters, about 35 birds in total. They knew if they didn't listen, their beautiful lives would be over, each one believes this very deeply. The cochins all ran into their houses, the younger set of birds all headed for the bushes, deep underbrush, covered in blackberry vines, where nothing can get at them, never in a million years could anything get down from above down into there, the older set of birds all ran to two separate houses, hiding in places I never would have dreamed they could fit, but they did (I was shocked at how small a place a bird can squeeze into when the desire is there). And Ivan stood there, beneath the wide overhang, watching and watching. I was watching him as I was watching the hawk.
The hawk alighted upon a wheelbarrow that I had recently been using. It was just outside the one side of the cochin run. It perched on that wheelbarrow, its back was to me. I ran out to that spot and yelled and yelled at the top of my lungs. Things I won't repeat here, smiling, I can make some pretty loud sounds for a small gal. I picked up a yellow plastic electric fence post and swung it in the air at it. It was this final measure that made it fly away. But not far. It perched in a tree that on the perimeter of my yard and looked at me. Nerve of brass. I still had the electric fence post in my hand and threw it as high in the air and with all my might (was really good at swinging at bat at baseball, and still have a pretty good arm). The fence post went high in the air, not even coming close to the bird, but it made a point. The bird flew away to another tree, as if it was taunting me. I picked up the fence post again and began to wave it, the bird finally left. Guess it got sick and tired of my silly antics and thought that there would be no point to further try to get a meal here.
The young birds would not come out of the bush for quite some time. I am a patient woman and I waited for them to come out. In the meantime, I encouraged everyone to go into their houses and I locked them in. Eventually with some nice coaxing the younger ones came to me, and I encouraged them to go home too. This was 11:00 in the morning, they stayed safe and sound within their night homes until about 3:00. I let them out again for about and hour or so. By this time the waning light is causing the birds to want to go into a nice place to rest and sleep, and with a teeny tiny bit of encouragement, all went back into bed, safe and sound, all tucked in, with my wishes for a peaceful sleep. Those hawks. Those hawks. Beautiful days, love and live them, with great health. Cindi