About ten years ago, I was looking out my grandmother's back door. Two squirrels were playing in the yard.
A hawk swooped down and grabbed one. As it was batting its wings and gaining altitude, the other squirrel raced up a nearby tree, leapt off, rocketed down into God's Own Death From Above, and rescued his friend by curb-stomping the hawk out of the air.
They both ran away and the hawk limped off in confusion.
