Hello Eagle Friends,
Today was an a gorgeous day in the valley, night too. It was mid 60s when I arrived late this afternoon. The sun was out and
the threat of a storm no where to be found.
I found no activity on nest 7 or 8.
I hiked out to Daedee and Dancer's nest area and when I arrived, I found Daedee facing the west staring towards the sun. The early evening, golden light spilled across her light yellow eyes and made them glow like tiny Christmas lights until she turned head tipped her head into her nest.
D'ODEE Brian Michael was rising from beneath her breast and Daniels Charlie from the west side of the nest. D'ODEE and Daniel
tapped their beaks against each others and both rose up to find they were of equal height. With that proven, Daniel Charlie slinked back down and D'ODEE cuddled into his mother.
Everyone, including me, was watching the skies for The Dancer, Daedee's mate of at least 8 years. I was hoping to catch the evening feeding, but I think I missed it, or it wasn't going to happen until sunset. I hiked around to my north post hoping to catch a better glimpse of the twins, but they were already sleeping which convinced me even more that I'd missed the feeding and that is why I saw Dancer soaring above the nest tree when I left my truck.
I snapped off a few shots, but something felt off, something looked different, but I couldn't figure it out until I got up and headed toward the river. I had only taken two steps to the east when I saw a doe on the other side of the river sniffing the cottonwood tree leaves. Then another deer appeared and they walked towards me, but the third deer was the one who exposed my cover.
In a blink all three had lept to the top of the river bank and disappeared into the woods.
Then I watched a morning dove fly in and land on the trees roots protruding into the air. Who needs branches to perch on when it seems like more trees, in this valley anyways, live a good life and grow tall only to be toppled by the winds; leaving their branches clinging to the ground while their roots reach for the sky.
I knew another good wind would take the Twin Tree, I just hated that I knew it was going to happen.
When I left last night it was tipped down and ready to go. It was tipping over in the 50-60 mph winds that came through while I was sitting there last night. The winds snapped off parts of the Riverside North tree, too.
So I am, once again, glad I trusted my instinct to go photograph all the trees around and Daedee and Dancer's last night, during and after the storm. For now Riverside North has been reduced to a trunk with a few branches, and the Twin Tree, the closest tree to Daedee and Dancer's nest, and first tree the eaglets used to landed on, and their parents while coaxing their eaglets off the nest. The eaglets goal tree, the one to reach after their first flight no longer has a future here as a tree.
It toppled across the river, almost as I thought it would. There it was laying across the river at it's deepest point, which is about ten to twelve feet there, and the green leaves were still blowing in the wind, for they didn't know their life had been moved to the sandbar on the other side of the river.
In fact, I don't know how many trees every get to experience life on both sides of the river.
The 2008 eaglets will have to work harder to reach a good perch, on their first landing tree. Of course, in my lifes' experience, you don't know it's hard if you never had the easy or close branch to land on to begin with. You can't miss what you have never experienced. I suppose it will make these eaglets stronger fliers, and bigger thinkers. Of course, they will never know they missed an easy perch that their siblings before them all had practiced their first flights on.
I stopped and photographed the fallen tree and then I turned towards Daedee and Dancer's nest tree. Their tree is what I would now call "threatened."
All the windbreak trees grew up from seeds and protected this eagle nest tree all these years and now they have all served their purpose, and in the last four years almost all have fallen around the nest tree; exposing the core tree. The nest tree with its cracked trunk. The edge of the river creeps in closer every day, swallowing more and more of the riverbank as if it wants to give its water to the roots of the nest tree.
I moved on to nest 2. The Mayor was sitting above the nest looking down at 42 day old Terry Gail who remained out of my view. As I turned to grab my video camera, Judy flew in and exchanged nest duty with her mate.
I could hear Terry Gail crying out, but I never saw her. I loved how the sunlight came across Judy's face making it glow.
This is my favorite hour for picture taking.
I moved on to find the 8 gosling's who shared the four parents. I don't think the geese even know their own gosling's. The 1a family had five then they all merged splitting them 4/4. I laughed as the 1a mom honked and the gosling high-tailed it, flapping their three inch wings as they ran. The sun back lit them and I shot a few more frames and then just stopped to enjoy their beauty.
At nest 6 I found the goose mound 3 mom . . . still sitting. 38 days today. All the other gosling's will have feather's before her gosling's hatch, if they hatch.
Linda, the nest 6 female was sitting off to the east of her nest. I could see, barely, the twins walking around the top of the nest. They are like big chickens at this stage and I never tire looking at them. The other goose families had their little ones up on the grasses eating as I passed them.
At nest 5 the twins were siting up with their backs to me, facing the east. They are 6 weeks old already and will be fledging sometime during the next 6 weeks or less. The sun was going down quickly so I moved on to nest 3 and 4 so I could get some shots before it was dark.
The nest 3 eagle was sitting below its' nest watching the marsh. I could barely see the eagle on nest 4. My shooting was interrupted by an abrupt splash.
There was a beaver in the marsh in front of me. He slapped his tail and dove underneath the water before I could lift my camera. There was a great blue heron who was fishing in the shallows, red-winged blackbirds chattering, and the chorus of American toads with a handful of bull frogs in the background frogs calling out, "jug-jug-jug-a-rum," and all this noise, along with the sweet scent of violets and flowers filled the cool air with the sounds and smells of spring. A zillion gnats swarmed the ponds edge and as I stared into their swarm I could, for a moment close my eyes and be transported back to a similar place in time.
I could remember sitting in the boat with my dad as the sun set beyond the Boy Scout camp, and the sounds of dusk claimed ownership of the next several hours on the shores of Steamboat Lake while a daughter and father fished by the moons' light, and a little green light that worked--some of the time.
However, this time when I opened my eyes dad wasn't turning off the Evinrude or Johnson, or the electric trolling motor. Nor was he in a boat on the lake, smiling back from under his black and white RYBA hat, and with his sunglasses now hung on his shirt pocket. This time as I opened my eyes there was an eagle flying through the rising full moon over the marsh.
Then again, they say, and I keep rewriting it, eagles are messengers of Heaven; and for those few moments as I watched a solo eagle fly across my path I was as much with my dad in Heaven as I ever was, on any of those boat rides we shared on Steamboat Lake.
I'm looking forward to Day 132.
See you on the journey--
Lisa
Tune into KTTC 10 PM tomorrow night for the eagle journey.
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