Musings

Here are some musings I’ve put down.  Some are articles from the MERWA.  Some are thoughts that have flitted through my head.  Some are ramblings.

Let me tell you a story of love, bravery, endurance, war and second chances.  It even has a hopeful ending.  (Poetic license has been taken.  The names are mine.  The story is true.)

Braveheart and Heartsong had nested in a tall pine on the coast of Maine for thirteen seasons.  After the late winter storm, Heartsong returned to the nest and, with Braveheart's help, began refurbishing it and added on to the already generous quarters they had amassed over the years.  During that time, in spite of Braveheart's wound on his talon, they mated several times, on the branches of their tree, on the rim of the nest and in their favorite secret place.

Heartsong knew her time was near, and during the dark of the moon, many suns after the first big storm of the winter, she laid her first egg.  A day or so later she laid the second.  Now came the waiting time.  Sitting on the nest, keeping the eggs warm.  Braveheart brought food and spelled her so she could stretch her wings, but most of the time she settled in and waited.

The days were very cold and the nights worse.  She and Braveheart worried that their eggs would not hatch, but they never gave up.  A second storm roared through, dumping much snow.  Still, they continued to guard the eggs.  Finally, as the moon began to grow, the first chick hatched, and she named him Stormy.  On a sunny day, she burrowed him down into the nest, covered him over and she and Braveheart went hunting.  How wonderful it was to soar on the wind, catch a fish and eat some before carrying the remains back to the nest.  She did keep an eye on an odd looking contraption that circled the nest a couple of times.

Two suns after Stormy hatched, Frosty arrived.  Now, her family was complete.  Braveheart kept a goodly supply of fish and birds within reach.  She and Braveheart took turns tending the nest and ripping off choice morsels to feed the babies as they mewed for food, being careful not to nick them with their sharp talons.  One afternoon it was her time to be on the nest.  She landed on the edge but Braveheart ignored her.  She walked around, nudged him, but nothing.  Finally she started rearranging the nest.  When she "accidentally" bopped him on the head, he got the message and flew off.

In the dark of night, after Heartsong had settled comfortably into the nest, she heard the beat of wings not too far away.  She lifted her head and peered around.  An owl swooped in, trying to steal the food, or worse, one of her babies.  She couldn't let that happen.  Heartsong flapped her wings and screamed for Braveheart.  She couldn't defend the nest without his help.  Braveheart answered her call and landed on the rim.  When the owl did a second fly-by, Heartsong rose up and spread folded wings.  Braveheart joined her in a chorus of scolding, and the owl left.  Then, Braveheart settled down behind her to provide added protection for the rest of the night.

Several suns and darks after Frosty's arrival, Heartsong had an uneasy feeling.  A huge storm was brewing, one coming out of the Northeast.  They were always treacherous storms, and she had two chicks to protect.  The moon was nearly full when the storm hit.  The sturdy pine tree shook, the nest rocked, and rain and snow pelted her.

She struggled to protect her babies, keeping them as dry as possible and feeding them as often as she could.  If only the storm would stop, but it didn't. Braveheart did his best to hunt and bring food, but she knew his sore talon bothered him.  After the first night, cold and weary he dropped some food for her.  Hungry and worried about the chicks, she could do nothing else but settle back on the nest.  In the middle of the storm, when the wind was raging, Braveheart made a heroic attempt to relieve her.  She left the bowl of the nest.  With wings spread wide, he struggled to land, flapping his wings for balance, and finally touched down.

At times, Heartsong called to Braveheart to remind him that both she and the babies were hungry and needed food even though she understood how difficult it was for him to hunt during this terrible storm.

After three days of pelting snow, punishing wind and pounding rain, she knew they had failed.  In spite of the strength of the nest, rain and cold had penetrated the sides.  Stormy and Frosty had not survived.  She flew off the nest.  There was no reason to sit there any more.  Later that day, Braveheart perched on the rim of the nest and looked sorrowfully into the bowl.  His babies had barely had a chance at life.  Sitting in the warm sun, the water sparkling below, it was hard to remember the brutal storm.  Off and on he and Heartsong returned to the nest to mourn the loss.

But it was not too late.  Possibly there was time to re-nest, and they mated again on the rim of their nest.  Heartsong began rearranging the nest with Braveheart's help.

On a sunny afternoon, both were on the nest when another male flew into their territory.  Heartsong screeched a warning and the battle for possession was on.  Intruder dive-bombed the nest multiple times, even taking possession for a brief time while Heartsong, her back to the nest shunning him, perched on the Y branch.  Braveheart strafed the nest, just missing Intruder.  He crashed into a branch on the far side, flailed wildly to keep from tumbling over the edge, and was able to dislodge Intruder and regain control of the nest.  Eventually, Intruder abandoned the fight, at least for that afternoon.

As of this writing, Heartsong has not laid any eggs, but those of us who have cheered and sobbed watching these courageous birds fight the odds this Spring still have hope.  Braveheart and Heartsong are still battling for possession of their nest, probably because other eagle nests in the area were destroyed during the Patriot's Day Storm of 2007.

I would wish for all my heroes and heroines to be as steadfast a mate, as caring and loving parents as these two eagles.  Human beings like to think they are superior to animals, but animals do not abandon their young, they do not abuse their spouses, and, in most cases, they do not kill their own kind, merely posture and yell.  They kill to survive.

Judi Phillips  ã2007

 

The following pictures are provided with the permission of BioDiversity Research Institute, 19 Flaggy Meadow Road, Gorham, Maine  04038.  Check my links page to visit BRI on the web.

 

            feeding the 2006 chicks