Hawk haunting

There is a hawk after my chickens and that pisses me off.  I am surrounded by 75 acres of field mice, snakes, little tasty crawly things, a virtual smorgasbord for predators, but this lazy guy thinks he needs my chickens.  Today, he actually was crashing into the wire on the top of a cage, trying to rip through to the tiny frightened Old English game birds two feet below.  Now, that is just rude.  Enough to make the girls quit laying,  Enough for me to fantasize about shotguns and puffs of feathers in the sky...

I know; they're protected raptors.  Ooo, be still my heart.  To me, that only means I can't shoot them when they are in my stock.  If they would stick to the fields, I would live in happy and peaceful coexistence with them.  But, no, they want fast food at the expense of my little farm.  So, I hex and curse them every day.  I give them the evil eye.  I run out, flagging my arms and calling them really bad names.  I have a little raptor voodoo doll that I stick chicken bones in.  That'll teach 'em...

(If I sound frustrated, I am.  I take my animals seriously and don't have spares or lose any lightly.  But, I am unable to defend my stock.  If a coyote, dog, feral cat, whatever threatened them, I could shoot to kill, as farmers have done for centuries.  But, not a hawk!  No, that is murder most foul!  Whatever...  (Hey--what if I just happened to be playing frisbee and one of the silly things flew right into the disc?!  I gotta think about this...)