The hawk came by again last week and this time as it flew away, it took with it a chicken. Such violence is shattering. True, the hawk was doing what hawks do, but it wasn’t pretty to watch.

The first notion that something was wrong was a general racket out in the yard. The guinea fowl normally do a fair amount of squawking during the course of a day, but this was different. They were screeching, as were the chickens. I went to the door but could see nothing amiss. However, I noticed that a growth of bushy grass down by the pond seemed to be in as much of a frenzy as the birds.

As I watched, hens and guineas began to shoot out, feathers flying. I thought this was just another barnyard scuffle between the guineas and the chickens, arguing over territory. But as I watched, I noticed a huge shadow fly out of the grass. Hmm, the ducks were in on this, too, I thought. They fly around a lot.

I went back into the house and returned to whatever it was I was doing. Before long, the commotion started up again and this time the grass churned too much to be just chickens squabbling. Something must be after them I thought. A fox probably. I snatched up my broom on the way out the door.

Just as I rounded the corner, hollering at the top of my lungs and waving my broom, a majestic bird rose from the undulating grass and lumbered heavily into the air. A red-tailed hawk. A huge red-tailed hawk. Normally I am awed by these magnificent creatures, but this day I was stunned, caught between outrage and admiration.

Donnie came in, and I relayed the story. Hawks don’t normally go after chickens, he informed me. It was a hawk, I insisted. Okay, he said, but I could tell he thought I was exaggerating the whole episode.

It wasn’t long before screaming hens and guineas again brought us both to the door. The hawk was back and this time he had latched onto a chicken. The chicken was so big, the hawk couldn’t fly very far with it and finally dragged it down on the road and proceeded to tear it apart before it was dead.

It was a grizzly experience that presented us with quite a dilemma. What do we do about this? If a fox or coyote were after the chickens, we would shoot it or set a trap for it and that would be perfectly acceptable. A hawk, however, is not only a creature admired by us, it is also a protected bird.

Sentenced to the pen

Donnie went down with the shotgun, but came back without firing a shot even though the hawk was an easy target sitting on the road with its meal.

On the other hand, we feel responsible for our chickens. We do everything we can to protect them from harm.

We like to let them out of their pen because they enjoy it so much. We feed them and, although this may seem silly to the non-chicken-loving population, we are quite attached to these birds. They are attached to us. We have a relationship. Like children, I’m sure they trust us to take care of them.

It has not been easy, but we have closed them back into their pen where the hawk can’t get to them. We will let them out again when the hawks go south.

Yesterday, however, the hawk was back. This time it got a dove that was eating seeds from the bird feeder. What do I do this time? Take away the bird feeder? Earlier this year a falcon was after birds at the feeder.

I try to be philosophical about this, try to look at it from the point of view of the natural world.

Nature isn’t nice. Everything is food for something else. Humans certainly do their share of killing for food, and that isn’t pretty either. When the time comes, we will kill the meat chickens to put in the freezer. That is why we bought them, we will reason.

I was thinking of this last night as I watched yet another rehashing of the violence in New Orleans. I couldn’t help but wonder whether the looting and sniping and fighting was representative of humans’ nature or whether the thousands of acts of kindness and heroism that took place there is actually the true measure of our species’ nature.

I suspect that we are not so unlike animals and birds. We are survivors and that means that sometimes we will kill, not only for food, but to preserve and protect human life. There is a difference with us, however. Humans can think and therefore have a choice.

We can decide to not do what instinct tells us to do.

The hawk will not be killed by us for doing what hawks do. But I might whack it with my broom if it comes around again.

Jeanette Baldridge is a writer and teacher who lives in West Paris, who is a regular contributor to this column. She can be reached by e-mail at [email protected].