information

The Coopers hawk swooped down from her perch in the locust tree. She was as silent as a falling drop of rain. When she hit the chicken there was an explosion of feathers, a loud gargle of squawks, and then silence. The hawk sat with her wings spread out over the still black and white Brahma.
Sammie (himself quite indifferent to the raising of poultry) heard the noise and stepped outside into the frigid air. He saw the hawk, her beautifully patterned wings spread out like a living coat of arms. The Brahma was barely visible. He rushed back inside and grabbed his camera, fumbling with case and straps and switches and dials. He took five good shots, creeping up slowly to catch the orange glow in the Coopers hawk's eyes. His heart beat fast.
"What? You went and grabbed your camera? Before you chased away the hawk? Before you checked on the chicken? What were you thinking?"
Sammie couldn't say.


(internet problems...been back-blippin' for a few days, friday and saturday)