Bawk Bawk…HAWK!

It’s summertime, and the living is queasy because of those relentless raptors in the sky, the red-tailed and red-shouldered hawks.

I used to step outside on a summer morning and revel in the tranquility of our semi-rural neighborhood. You might hear a blue jay’s hoarse cry or a mockingbird run through its repertoire, but otherwise it seemed so quiet that you could hear the trees breathe if you paid close attention.

It looks peaceful, but a hawk is lurking nearby

Then we got chickens. And I learned to tune in to the cry of a hawk. And now that’s all I hear. Because currently, from dawn to the last moments of dusk, our property is patrolled by a trio of hungry hawks.

That’s not Santa on our chimney – it’s a red-shouldered hawk

In April we saw the hawks pairing off and there were quiet weeks in May while they attended to their babies, but by the second week of June or so, they were back in action, with mama or daddy hawk showing a young one how to hunt down my chickens!

Pay attention, girls!

Last week I learned that the predators I have assumed to be red-tailed hawks are actually red-shouldered hawks, thanks to my dog-walker Lee, who knows her hawks. She explained that bands across the tail indicate the red-shouldered hawk, which thrives along the California coast.  I think we have both species in our area, but our immediate threat displays the hunting behavior of the red-shouldered variety, which, according to Wikipedia, “…typically wait on a perch and swoop down on prey. When in clearings, they sometimes fly low to surprise prey…”

Tail of a red-shouldered hawk (image from http://www.hiltonpond.org)

Our little flock of hens are avid free-rangers, which makes for many stressful moments throughout the day. Indeed, as I have been typing this post, I’ve had to go outside to check on the girls three times as the piercing cry of the hawk comes closer and closer. Here’s what it sounds like:

Last week one of the hawks swooped down so suddenly that by the time I could get out to the chicken yard it was already gone and instead of six chickens, I saw only five plus a small pile of feathers on the ground where Pippa should have been! Surely there would have been more noise if the hawk had gotten Pippa, I thought, but I searched and searched and could not find her. Finally, after a few heart-stopping minutes, I discovered her, frozen in fear, but well-hidden beneath the bales of pine shavings we store on a workbench near the coop.

Our little bantams, Pippa and Luna, are the most vulnerable to hawk attacks

The hawks behave with impunity, as if they know they are federally protected. Kill a hawk without a permit, and you will pay a hefty fine. It is not illegal to scare a hawk away, but they don’t scare all that easily. When I’ve found them lurking in our oaks, they’ll wait until I get fairly close before nonchalantly flapping away.

Here’s a close-up of that hawk on our chimney; you can see by the tail that it is, indeed, of the red-shouldered variety.(Polloplayer photo)

The only fail-safe way to guard chickens from hawks is to keep them securely penned or in the coop. But, of course, that’s no fun for them. The CE and I go round and round about what level of risk is acceptable: quality of life or life vs. death? Some people recommend stringing aviary netting as I discussed in a previous post, others claim that nylon fishing line or hanging shiny CD’s to frighten the hawks will do the trick. I’ve also heard that getting a dog to guard your flock is the way to go. We’ve got the dogs, but I don’t think guarding chickens or anything else is in their DNA.

Soho guards the flock – sort of.

If you’re lucky enough to live where you can have a rooster to guard your flock, that’s a first line of defense. Otherwise, providing ample cover for the chickens and hoping they’re smart enough to use it is key. Our girls do seem to know how to scramble when death with wings swoops down, but one false move or a straggler like Luna whose Silkie pom pom obstructs her vision, could spell tragedy in the Chicken Kingdom. For the moment, we rely on vigilance – who knew that my job description would ultimately become Human Shield for Hens?

There he is again in our back yard (Polloplayer photo)

About polloplayer

Empty nester searching for meaning of life through the occasional chicken epiphany.
This entry was posted in All Things Poultry, Annoyances of Life, Chicken Facts and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Bawk Bawk…HAWK!

  1. Katherine says:

    So frightening. And I’ll have to rethink my love of Hawkeye Pierce, Ethan Hawke in Dead Poet’s Society, and Stephen Hawking’s brilliance. Speaking of which – you’d think Hawking would come up with a defense mechanism. Except I understand that, against all odds, he’s quite the ladies-man so perhaps he doesn’t want to create a defense against trolling for chicks.

    I’d send Karma over to protect the girls but I’m afraid he would be too preoccupied following Dizzy around hoping for another kiss.

  2. tdevir says:

    I have seen this hawk with my own eyes and am very nervous for little Pippa & Luna (and remind me to keep a closer eye on Buster during our visits!)
    Since the hawk has yet to dine on a chicken, I think you (and SoChlo’s intimidating presence) are doing a good job of keeping him at bay.

  3. Here in Northwestern CT we have Red-Shouldereds who’re raising kids in the back woods. We’ve just finished days of screaming. I’m thinking it’s the parents teaching the kids how to do it. I should ask our neighbors who have free-ranging chickens how they’re doing. This is a fun post.
    Patty
    http://www.wordswewomenwrite.wordpress.com

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s