I came home one day, to find Mrs Bookworm out in the yard with a rifle. I admit to being a bit nervous when I asked her what was up (never can tell what a woman is thinking...).
She sez " i'm rooster huntin'. That thing has flown up at me for the last time."
We had a rooster that would attack from behind. I carried a 'rooster whacker' - a short piece of PEX tubing, when I went out there to tend the birds. When the little pecker would fly at me, I'd turn around and knock him from the air. Wifes' hearing isn't as good as mine, she couldn't hear the rush of wings.
She continued " I can see him in that copse of scrub oaks...."
Vastly relieved that the rifle wasn't for me, I went on in the house. A few minutes later I heard the .22 crack. We had chicken and rice from the pressure cooker that evening.