Chester and I headed out for our walk a bit earlier than usual yesterday, the day was gearing up to be a hot one. The world is markedly quieter in the early morning – we were enjoying the solitude and lost in thought when a loud screech pierced the air. Suddenly rattled from my reverie I checked the area for something in distress. The the air was pierced again. I looked up and noticed a large eagle’s nest and a young eagle perched on the top most branch of a tree. It would have been completely camouflaged had it not been throwing a fit. It screeched again and I realized it was ordering breakfast.
I scanned the horizon for an eagle in a flap to get home.
The ocean was as slick as glass, disturbed only by the wake of a few paddle boarders smearing the reflection of a clear blue sky. Somewhere out over that shimmering expanse an eagle was hunting while its demanding teenager chick was kicking up a stink at home.
The big-little guy was all alone and probably lonely as well as hungry. Eagles don’t have a lot of friends – they are sort of top of the feathered food chain. Plus they aren’t all that friendly – they are stuck up and full of themselves. Once in a while a rambunctious crow or two will take a swing at an eagle – the eagle might let them land a few punches before lifting off and leaving them in a haze of eagle dust. Sometimes the foley of fools is fun to feed.
I’ve read eagles usually only lay two eggs during a season – an heir and a spare. Eventually both eggs will hatch and the heir will make itself known – the spare is the weaker of the two birds (oftentimes things don’t work out too well for the spare). The screeching overhead suggested the brat in the tree was an heir.
We watched the famished teen until it was time for to head for home – we left before breakfast arrived. While we walked I thought about eagles and teenagers and wondered if the parents of that rowdy chick were looking forward to their empty nest.
I dreaded my emptying nest back in the day – I was lonely just thinking about it, but I had a sense of pride each time one of my kids took flight – a sense of accomplishment. Mixed with the melancholy was an anticipation of what might be coming next.
We could still hear screeching as we made our way down the hill. Obviously that fledgling thought his parents had forgotten their way home. I wondered for a moment if maybe the parents were to ones who had left the nest – and then the screeching stopped and the nest wasn’t empty anymore.