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nigh on full-fledged
My eaglet friend is pushing outright "eagle." Getting big. Perhaps mere days from that first flight, called "fledging."
This week at work I've had my windows arranged so I can keep an eye on her while I do the editing (and the reading over the editing) (and the playing HORSE vs. the computer). She stretches out her wings a lot. Flies from one side of the nest to the other. Hop-flies to hover, chaotically, inches above the nest. Now, with the new computer, I can watch her at home, too. Last few minutes she's been doing nest-keeping practice.
Those increasingly less awkward wings are a marvel, bent out at their angles, akimbo, but with feathers all lined up in exactly the right directions. She holds 'em up in breeze as if just to feel how that feels again, "yeah, right, hunh," then folds 'em back up against her sides.
She's also been doing a lot of sitting right on the edge of the nest, looking out. Looking like she's thinking about it.
This watching is different for me. A new thing. Watching this baby, the one survivor of the nest---and the parent eagles, doing their thing, all matter-of-fact--- I don't know what to say about it, but it keeps me coming back. I'm not branching out to other nests the watchers of this one talk about, when I go see what they're saying, to find out what junior's been up to while I'm gone, when fledging might happen, that they're thinking this one's female, where the parents are thought to be hanging out. I'm watching this one.
The feeding routine is changing, as the youngster is subtly encouraged more often to feed herself what they bring (though she still gets some beak-to-beak every day), and allowed to get a little hungrier, maybe so's to want to go find her own fish. Seems today as if part of the motivation for nestwork could just be getting these pesky big pokey sticks out of the way so they stop catching a wing or a foot during the flappy hovering.
Life is pretty much sitting there, seeing how the body parts work, eating, scratching an ear when it itches, futzing with the nest, resting, and chirping at the folks.
Pretty soon she's gonna do the thing that's so grand it's one of yer fundamental metaphors. It'll be grand, for her and for me, and it'll be, for her and for me, just another day, just what comes next. I'm excited about it. I'm in no hurry, and I'm not wishing that it hold off.
You look at the nest, you're in that moment. I mean, you're always in a moment, but, I dunno. I dunno.
This week at work I've had my windows arranged so I can keep an eye on her while I do the editing (and the reading over the editing) (and the playing HORSE vs. the computer). She stretches out her wings a lot. Flies from one side of the nest to the other. Hop-flies to hover, chaotically, inches above the nest. Now, with the new computer, I can watch her at home, too. Last few minutes she's been doing nest-keeping practice.
Those increasingly less awkward wings are a marvel, bent out at their angles, akimbo, but with feathers all lined up in exactly the right directions. She holds 'em up in breeze as if just to feel how that feels again, "yeah, right, hunh," then folds 'em back up against her sides.
She's also been doing a lot of sitting right on the edge of the nest, looking out. Looking like she's thinking about it.
This watching is different for me. A new thing. Watching this baby, the one survivor of the nest---and the parent eagles, doing their thing, all matter-of-fact--- I don't know what to say about it, but it keeps me coming back. I'm not branching out to other nests the watchers of this one talk about, when I go see what they're saying, to find out what junior's been up to while I'm gone, when fledging might happen, that they're thinking this one's female, where the parents are thought to be hanging out. I'm watching this one.
The feeding routine is changing, as the youngster is subtly encouraged more often to feed herself what they bring (though she still gets some beak-to-beak every day), and allowed to get a little hungrier, maybe so's to want to go find her own fish. Seems today as if part of the motivation for nestwork could just be getting these pesky big pokey sticks out of the way so they stop catching a wing or a foot during the flappy hovering.
Life is pretty much sitting there, seeing how the body parts work, eating, scratching an ear when it itches, futzing with the nest, resting, and chirping at the folks.
Pretty soon she's gonna do the thing that's so grand it's one of yer fundamental metaphors. It'll be grand, for her and for me, and it'll be, for her and for me, just another day, just what comes next. I'm excited about it. I'm in no hurry, and I'm not wishing that it hold off.
You look at the nest, you're in that moment. I mean, you're always in a moment, but, I dunno. I dunno.
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One day I was down at Crosswinds Marsh, watching one of the resident bald eagles sitting up in a tree, then taking off, and circling in a thermal, rising, and rising, and I realized that that bird had been patiently doing the same thing I did at a rocket contest feeling for that good air.
Yeah you take the time to observe nature, and you start feeling all connected and stuff. It's cool that you've got your own special eagle. Here's rooting for a magnificent flight!
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I wish I'd been paying closer attention to the eaglecam these past couple weeks. And I'm honestly thrilled for you that you've grown up with the kid.
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I want a goblet of wine and a big round bald head, and my elbow on the table. But it's time for bed.
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