photo prompt by Julien Laurent via Unsplash
Jarrod enticed the birds with the poisoned biscuit. Rumour had it the stones would topple if the birds departed. Soon he’d know. The birds came, talons cutting, beaks pecking, wings flapping but none ate. The only departure was Jarrod as he ran bleeding.
In response to Sonya’s Three Line Tales
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I know exactly how scary this situation can be. I had to feed my brother’s caged and trained hawks for the week that he and the rest of my family went to Hawaii. I was 18, in my first year of college, and he gave me 30 minutes of instruction and practice. Hawks will only eat live food so I had to go into their cages, one by one, wearing a leather glove on my hand as I held it out to the bird, toss a piece of raw liver into the air, wait till the bird grabbed it, and then stand perfectly still while the bird came at me with its talons extended, hoping it would land on my hand to eat and not tear my eyes out. Five hawks, seven days, twice a day. Rumor had it my brother would be grateful. I don’t even think he ever said thank you.
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I don’t think you would have got me feeding the birds and without a thank you I never would have again. I had a rooster that used to attack me with his spurs. I was petrified. he should have been as he ended up in the pot.
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