Something Unexpected in the Yard

September 25, 2010.  Saturday.

Situation:  This afternoon I went out to the garden to get some vegetables for my Ramen noodle stir fry.  On the way back to the house, I suddenly see something in the middle of the yard that’s usually not there.  I freeze.  At first, because the thing, a sort of brown-striped thing, is just sticking up, I think it might me a log or a tree trunk that I just never noticed before or that Moi recently put there for one of her many projects.  But somehow I realize this is not likely.  I stand still, gazing at the object, until I see that it has a white head that is twitching around, keeping a lookout with its beady eyes.  Because of its white head and large size, I think at first it might be an eagle, and then, because its brow seems kind of hooded and the head looks fat, I think it might be an owl.  But as I keep on looking at it – and it amazes me as I’m doing so that it does not fly away – I settle on its being a hawk, probably a red-tailed hawk.  Earlier I had heard the chickens squawking outside, and Moi had commented about them squawking.  So I look around to see if I can see the chickens – and I don’t see or hear them anywhere.  Moi is taking a nap, and I’m thinking I should wake her up to tell her about the hawk.  Every moment I’m looking at it, I’m expecting it to fly away.  It flicks its tongue several times.  I take a few slow steps toward the house.  Still it doesn’t move.  I take a few more careful steps, and the thing rises slightly in the air, carrying up a dead chicken in its talons.  The hawk flies to the perimeter of the yard and stops there.  Feathers lie all over the grass where it had been standing.  I run into the house to get Moi.  As she’s rushing out the bedroom door, Mway leaps up, playing her stupid door game, and pushes the door against Moi’s back.  “Mwayla, you stupid asshole,” Moi yells and frees herself from the door.  Outside, I point out where the hawk is still standing.  “That’s my chicken,” Moi shouts and marches over to the hawk, which now flies away through the trees, abandoning the dead hen on the ground.  Moi finds the bulk of the other chickens hiding in the weeds by the pear tree, and I discover one rooster who’s hidden in the coop.  Moi and both work together tonight, and it’s approaching 3:30, about time to take Mway for a walk.

State of the Path:  As I put on my boots and helmet, Moi looks out the kitchen window.  “Mway’s outside,” she says, “Probably rolling in that dead chicken.”  When I turn around, though, Mway is standing at the door, smiling, her pointy ears perked.  As I gather the birch branch and the walking stick, Mway runs over to the feathers and starts sniffing them.  I walk toward her, and she shuffles away, looking at me guiltily over her shoulder.  The chickens are all in the cage or milling around in the Jerusalem artichokes.  The sky is cloudless, the same blue as the New York or New England asters.  Spindly insects leap up from the yellowing weeds.   The jewelweed flowers seem to be disappearing, their leaves withering.  Down at the creek, I stare at the green-sepaled plant, shaking my head.  Coming up toward the clearing, a monarch (or a viceroy) flies over my shoulder and lands on a goldenrod right in front of me, so I end up bumping into it.  It seems to take a few seconds to think about it before it flies away.

State of the Creek:  Brown crinkly leaves keep piling up between the rocks.  Both puddles at the narrows are now just splotches of mud.  The creek, I believe for the first time this year, is now completely dry.

The Fetch:  Mway fetches the stick only about four times, then heads toward the path back to the house, looking over her shoulder, though, once or twice, as if asking for permission.  “That’s okay, Mway,” I tell her.  “We’re done.   As I approach the walled garden, I hear the chickens squawking.  Mway has run ahead, and I wonder if she’s riling them or if something worse is once again happening.  I find the chickens under the corn crib, a few of them venturing into the weeds.  Maybe they’re squawking, as Moi tells me they sometimes do, because one of the hens has laid an egg.