She watches the skies.

This morning, we had a near death experience with a hawk. I did not see it, but we clearly had a hawk come in and make a try for one of our chickens.

Ron and I were playing cards while drinking our tea and coffee. The morning chores had been done a while. It was raining, so Ron said he was surprised when Boudica didn’t want to come inside. He said she looked like she meant to work this morning, so Bairre came in the house after chores but not Boudica. We were just about finished with a long game with our cards when Boudica started going off in a big way.

I didn’t run since it seemed like she was barking at the woods and we have good fences, but I did stop what I was doing and head outside. The stress of the situation hit me as soon as I got outside and heard everything. I couldn’t see the chickens at all, which was a big worry, and the birds in the trees were making very weird noises. It sounded like distress. That sound, coupled with Boudica, who was completely freaking out at this point because she was in a different fence and couldn’t get to the chickens, put me to work.

I ran toward the front, forested part of the chicken yard. I couldn’t see anything in the trees, but only a few people were in the coop. I figured everyone had to be in the woods.

When I got there, about half the flock came out running, some went to the raspberry bushes to hide, and others ran all the way to coop. I knew the situation must have been bad because they were all making terrified noises. Even Mary Jane, who was running by the way, was making the strangest noise I have ever heard her–or any chicken–make.

As I made my way into the trees, more chickens came out, and then I heard movement above my head. I saw a gray hawk fly out of a neighbor’s tree that is right above our chicken yard. It flew back toward my neighbor’s house. I am about 90 percent sure it was a Cooper’s hawk. It’s almost always a Cooper’s hawk in our woods.

Then, I started hunting. Ron came outside, and I filled him in. “Boudica is amazing!” he said.

“It’s the truth!” I replied.

I kept looking, and, eventually, Ron came to help. We both agreed that, surely, since I had seen the hawk, that it didn’t get anyone; still, I would feel better finding all of the littles. They are all nearly grown, but Tuesday, Wednesday, and Lenore, are still pretty small and could easily be carried off by a hawk. I will never hatch fall babies again. It’s warm enough now in Maine to do it, but they are pretty little still during hawk season. They have an extra risk.

I could find all of the littles except for Tuesday and Wednesday. Lenore and Annie were in the raspberry bushes, and Clara was in the coop. I found poor little Jacqueline out by herself by the front fence, trying to get into the coop the wrong way. She was completely panic stricken, so I reached down to just pick her up and carry her to the coop. When I did, she reacted violently. Her little head turned around, and she got me and my robe with her beak. She mainly got my robe, but it still hurt. She was just about to get me again, when I started talking sweet to her. She released her vice grip on my robe, and I felt her feet relax. That poor little baby had been traumatized. Because she was completely alone, she may have been a target, but I am not sure. I just know I have never seen a hen that traumatized.

I was still looking for Tuesday and Wednesday when I found Piatigorsky hiding so still in the bushes in the woods. She must have had a close call too. She was so still, I thought she was dead at first. I had to say her name three times before she moved. I reached in to pick her up, and she just buried her head into me. She is still the sweetest girl, and I am so glad she is okay. Next, I found Faure in a similar situation, but she didn’t want me to pick her up. I did have to walk her to Ron, who then walked her to the coop.

Ron and I continued to communicate as we gradually found people. Still, neither of us had found Tuesday and Wednesday. Ron told me to try to coop one more time and check the nest boxes. When I did, I found Wednesday. I was so happy to find her but then also a little more worried that there was no Tuesday. The chances of a hawk getting away with one baby in the time it took me to get out there was not zero.

Ron and I kept looking. We made our way back into the woods that we had already searched and searched when Tuesday came walking out of camouflage it seems. There she was, the cutest little thing I have ever seen–only aged a few years after that much stress. She stayed right with us as we walked her back to the coop.

“We had better go thank Boudica extra hard,” Ron said, and I agreed. We both made the biggest fuss over her, and she was so proud. I cannot express the depths of my gratitude to her in words, but I think she felt it. It is a gratitude I felt in my chest and in my bones this morning.

“She watches the skies,” Ron said. “It’s remarkable.”

I agreed.

It is humbling beyond all measure to be in the presence of such greatness. How lucky am I to have Boudica as my dear friend and partner on this homestead?

*It feels important that I add a quick note at the end of the story about Boudica and her magnificence. Boudica is a Great Pyrenees, a Livestock Guardian dog. She was not born knowing how to protect our flocks. She learned. It is a myth that you do not have to train LGDs. Great Pyrenees are the smartest dogs I have ever encountered. They have been bred for thousands of years to have strong critical thinking skills and to think for themselves without humans around. They learn so quickly, but they do have to be taught. Far too many Great Pyrenees are surrendered to shelters because people do not understand this.