I hit a hawk in a Subaru when I was 17.

This weird little incident resulted in a broken windshield and a black eye. I worked in the cafe in my small hometown at this point so you can just imagine the attention that was cultivated.

On Tuesdays, it was the habit of the ladies from the Womens Shelter to come in for lunch. I told them that the special was a beef burrito with green chile and that we had cherry and apple pie.

One of them slid me a business card.

“Oh, no, ma’am,” I said. “I hit a hawk. In a Subaru.”

“When you need to talk, honey,” she said. “Let me know.”

I tell you that story so I can tell you this story.

Our farrowing barn is empty now for a few weeks before we start farrowing our showpigs. We discovered that Caden’s rabbit had babies the other night and I needed a heat lamp for them since it’s been so cold out here in eastern Colorado.

I made my way through the pitch black farrowing barn to a farrowing crate that I knew had a heatlamp in it. I had one foot in the crate and was leaning as far as my 5 foot frame would allow with my other foot hooked on another crate.

About the time I managed to hook my finger on the lamp cord to pull it to me, I heard barn swallows fluttering through the barn. When one flew into my forehead at full speed, I couldn’t utter a sound. I was too speechless even to curse which is the unbelievable part of this entire story.

The boys were waiting on me when I finally made it back to the bunny cages and they both looked at me and asked what took so long.

“I hit…a…bird,” I stammered. “With my forehead.”

They shrugged and took the heatlamp from me. I think this makes the score Birds 2, Rachel 0.