there are blood stains on my grass

feathers and bits; a beak torn off in two halves, and pieces from which I avert my gaze, sickened. Man tchoeu chuckled at my tenderheartedness ('He has to eat!' he said of the hawk/raptor crouched over its prey, 'yes--but why on my lawn! was my plaintive reply) but he put gloves on and cleared away the remnants of the sky-snatch.

Men can be so awesome!