The Goshawk

We have a Goshawk in residence -- actually, a mating pair.

The environmentalist in me is pretty excited about it -- the farmer, not so much. I had never really heard of goshawks in these parts and it took a while to figure out what was getting at our chickens -- that is, until one managed to get itself caught in the brooder pen.

We have had all kinds of predators: coyotes, fox, owl, red tails -- each can be handled with a little ingenuity and some understanding of the animal you're dealing with. A bit of electric fence; strategic placement of fishing line; careful timing when the chickens go in and out -- there is usually a simple change that can encourage a predator to look elsewhere for dinner. The goshawk is different.

For those who might not know, goshawks live and hunt in the woods. They are very comfortable swooping through brush and tight places to get their prey. Unlike the wary red tail hawk who likes wide open space and will avoid any situation that it doesn't completely understand, the goshawk throws itself with reckless abandon at anything that seems like food. They are amazingly patient. I have had one watch me do chores for well on forty minutes from his perch high up in the willow above the chicken house.

Worst of all, these guys will fly right into a chicken house and hang around until it has finished it's meal. I knew I had trouble when I was finding partially eaten chickens and guineas lying in the middle of the coop floor. It never occurred to me that my adversary had less than four legs. It started as a one bird loss a week; then one every other day; then nearly every day. At that point, there was no sign of what was getting into the coop. Clearly it was happening in the late afternoon when we were either at work or picking up the kids from school. We started shooing the chickens inside and locking them down earlier and earlier in the day. It seemed to be working. And then...

One chilly Saturday afternoon in January, my eldest came running into the house screaming "Papa! come QUICK!". Out in a brooder pen was a dead chicken and a very alive goshawk. I had put the guineas and a few chickens in the small house with an enclosed pen attached to keep the guineas (who aren't too bright) from roosting in a tree and freezing to death. The top had only been rigged well enough to keep the guineas in. Unfortunately, there was enough of a gap to let the goshawk drop himself in as well. Getting out was another matter.

It was really fascinating to get such a close look at our intruder. Fear is not a word I would use to describe his behavior -- mad is more like it. He climbed around and hung upside-down and stood in defiance. These pictures are from that event. His talons are extraordinarily long and thin. Not as brutish as a red tail -- more like surgical instruments.

We let him go and started fortifying the chicken houses. He still has managed to get himself stuck inside a few more times and we have responded with more fortifications. This is difficult for me since I will not hurt this noble bird, but I am also committed to getting my girls on grass at least part of the year. Necessity is the mother of invention -- I have a few ideas -- we’ll see what we come up with.

Yesterday morning, I went out to feed the chicks and there was the goshawk as proud as you please. We are quite used to each other at this point. He was sitting on a stump watching my next batch of pullets scratch around in the wood chips. He looked at me as if to say: "well, you got those young'ns locked up pretty good."And then he flew up into the top of a locust tree. I watched as he launched himself out of the tree only to see a second goshawk also take flight -- this one with a twig in it's grip. I guess we'll be living with goshawks for a long time to come.