Another entry was crossed off of the bucket list yesterday, an entry that had been there for some time. Apparently, it had been crossed off years ago. I just wasn’t aware it had happened.
I had always wanted to see a bald eagle in the wild. The only one I had seen was in captivity, at Zoo Atlanta. About twenty years ago I was there for an advertising function. In the middle of one of the walkways was an eagle in a large iron cage. His permanent home was a habitat adjacent to the cage. A placard stated that some unspeakable a-hole had shot him, permanently disabling his wing, thus rendering him unable to fly. He was found, rescued and came to Zoo Atlanta from a rehabilitation center. As I read the placard and looked at the bird, I began to cry. It was and still is beyond my realm of comprehension how anyone could shoot such a magnificent creature. I stood and looked at him for a long time. He stared back at me. Disabled or not, the bird was beautiful, regal and majestic.
Years ago I had a friend who was a big-time hunter. I don’t know how we got on the subject of eagles, but I said, “I just couldn’t shoot an eagle.” He looked at me like I was crazy. “By God, I could,” he said. “How? Why?” I asked. “So’s I could have one on my wall ‘fore they goes extinct,” he replied. That was the beginning of the end of our friendship.
I always thought that eagles lived mostly out west or in the wilderness away from populated areas. It turns out I was wrong. Earlier this summer Jackie and I were at City Pond Park in Covington watching her grandson Gavin play baseball. Between innings, a hawk flew very low across the outfield, then soared up and perched atop one of the light poles. I looked at it for a minute and then said to my stepson Lars, “Man, that’s a big hawk on that light pole.” He looked at it and said, “I don’t think that’s a hawk. Look at how long its neck is. I think that may be an eagle.” The more I looked at it, the more I realized he was right. “Yeah, it must be a brown eagle,” I said. Then I looked south and another was circling about a quarter-mile away. “There’s another one,” I said, pointing in that direction. “Yep,” he said, “they’re probably a pair.” I stood and watched the bird on the pole for a long time. When we got home, I opened up my bird Bible, the National Geographic Field Guide to the Birds of North America, and learned that there are no brown eagles in the southern United States, only the bald eagle. Their heads do not turn white until they are five or six years old. The bird we saw was indeed a young bald eagle.
A week or so later my buddy Tim, who lives in North Cobb county, called me and said, “I’m here at the front window looking at the biggest hawk I have ever seen in my life! He’s just standing in my front yard. His legs look like freakin’ tree trunks.” “Does he have a neck?” I asked. “Hawks pretty much don’t have a neck.”
“Yeah, he looks around from time to time.”
“That’s not a hawk, that’s an eagle.”
“Wow. I think you may be right. It must be a brown eagle.”
“No, it’s a bald eagle.”
“His head isn’t white.”
“Their heads don’t turn white until they are about five or six.”
I told him about seeing the eagles at the ballpark in Covington. We hung up and he called me back about ten minutes later. “Yep, that was an eagle,” he said. “ I looked it up.” “Is it still out there?” I asked. “No,” he said. “When it flew off it looked like its wingspan was about six feet. That was the biggest bird I’ve ever seen in my life!”
Yesterday I picked Gavin up from school in Covington. I arrived at the building about five minutes before they let the students out. I happened to look up and flying overhead was a bald eagle. There was no doubt this time. I saw the white head, the dark wide motionless wingspan and the white tail feathers. It soared past, not too high to be recognized and then was gone. I stood there, knowing what I had just witnessed and processing the moment. I had seen a mature bald eagle in flight and in the wild, if just outside of the square in Covington, Georgia could be considered the wild.
Found only in North America, bald eagles are obviously more plentiful around metro areas than we may realize. So, the next time you see a big hawk soaring above with a large wingspan and riding the thermals, look again. Chances are it’s not a hawk at all. Chances are it’s our national bird.