That's my steer, Meatloaf, in the background. But I took this picture to show you the feathers all over the ground. Those are from my poor rooster. (Click on the picture to make it larger.)
We have one rooster (who used to belong to our neighbor) and a hen Cliff brought home because he felt sorry for the rooster. They roam around the place all day and roost in the barn, on the hay, at night.
We were getting ready to get on our motorcycle this morning when I heard Mr. Rooster squawking like crazy. I looked toward all the ruckus and saw Rooster and some big bird flopping and half-flying around the calf pen not twenty feet away from me. My brain wasn't processing the whole thing until our renter yelled out her front door, "Hawk!"
Indeed, a hawk had a death grip on our old rooster. I commenced yelling at the top of my lungs, and finally the devil-bird took flight. Cliff headed to the house to get his shotgun (yes, we know it's illegal to shoot a hawk) and I watched the evil creature circle and swoop near the ground looking for his prey. By this time, though, Rooster had taken refuge in the calf shed (which you can see in the picture) underneath a hay baler; and his bride had run to the barn.
What really irks me about this whole thing is that I had my camera IN MY COTTON-PICKEN' HAND and didn't get a picture of the attack because I was so taken by surprise and horror.
I hate when that happens.
When we got home from a four-hour motorcycle ride, both the rooster and the hen were in the barn, still scared to come out. Poor things.