A Hen, A Goose and A Hawk

Rodney, our resident hawk, is back. And he has a girlfriend.

We haven’t seen Rodney for a few months and, I must admit, we’ve missed him. So when Bill told me he saw him in the backyard, we were both pretty excited. We walked into the dining room and watch for a few moments as Rodney and his lady friend did the Tango with a couple of jackrabbits. As we turned to go, Mom glanced over at us.

“Are you looking at the hen?” she asked.

“Hen?” Bill and I both said, looking first at her then at each other.

“In the back,” she said. “I saw it this morning when I was looking out the window.”

Before he walked away, Bill gave me a sideways glance, rolled his eyes and whispered, “You can handle this one.”

“Are you talking about a chicken?” I asked. “You saw a chicken in the backyard?”

“I think so,” she shrugged. “It was a bird and it was as big as a hen.”

“It was a hawk, Mom,” I said, turning to leave. “It’s been here before. It really likes to sit in the birdbath.”

“Oh, well I don’t think a chicken would do that. Are you sure it’s a hawk? Maybe it’s a goose. They’re pretty big.”

“It’s a hawk, Mom,” I yelled over my shoulder as I rounded the corner and started down the hall toward the office.

“Well a goose would like the birdbath more than a hawk,” she shouted after me.

“Hawk!” I shouted back.

“Or even a duck,” she offered as a final shot. “Ducks like water too!”



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