Predator pressure

The gang’s all here.

You put these here for us, right?  We needed a grooming station.

The gang’s not really all there.  A few of them are trapped in the greenhouse with the Silkie moms and their chicks today, because I was worried.  Things are going to change.  I have to get the birds under cover for their own safety, asap, and it’s going to be hard.

Yesterday I got out of my car to a bald eagle hovering overhead.  We looked at each other, I told him to leave, and he tipped and banked towards the greenhouse.

I went over there.  All the birds were hunkered, still and  silent, under the nearest shelter they could find.  They watched me.  I watched the death raptor, circling low over us, beaky head taking everything in.  The eagle and I stared each other down, me standing in the middle of hen land, with a big stick that would be next to useless (a javelin?), daring him to try it.   He conceded and left, but I have  a feeling he’ll check back later.  I have to get everyone moved in, and they’re not going to be thrilled about it.