I'm upstairs in the bathroom and I hear the danger cry from 50 beaks outside. I look out the bathroom window and see several hens at a dead run heading for the coop. I go to the bedroom and look out the back window. Note, we have lots of shrubs in the back perfect for hiding in. Through my limited view (and hearing) I hear a scuffle and see a good-sized hawk come out from under one of the bushes and land in a clearing where my chickens love to dirt-bathe. Now, of course, I'm kicking off my slipper socks and running downstairs. I slow down long enough to put on my flip-flops - grab a rake at the front door (we got some fill dirt yesterday and were raking it, hence the handy weapon) and run into the back yard. Of course by now there is no sign of the hawk. The chickens are all fine. They all ran into the coop with Rocky, my wonderful roo, standing in the doorway as if to say, you have to go through me to get to them! All's well that ends well, but my adrenalin is on full alert! My chickens love to free range and the hawks don't usually bother the grown ones, but if I let a little guy out, he's almost guaranteed to be hawk food this time of year, so my "littles" are in a covered pen 24/7. Okay, I'm starting to breath easier, calming down, everything is okay. On a side note, Frack, my house chicken, is in the kitchen bokbokboking her head off right now. When I came inside I found her hiding in the bathroom behind the toilet! Just another day in the life of a chicken-owned person!