Bald eagles are majestic creatures with wingspans to match. They are the national bird of the United States, the therefore inherently demand (and deserve) our respect.
Bald eagles used to be in short supply. In the late 20th century they were on the brink of extinction in the contiguous U.S. Populations recovered and the bald eagle was removed from the endangered species list and transferred to the list of threatened species in 1995. It was removed from that list in 2007.
Bald eagles currently live in Canada, Alaska, all 48 contiguous states and northern Mexico. They are thriving and we are glad.
We’ve been watching the eagles on the lake by our cabin for years. We know where they nest and each spring look forward to revisiting “our” eagles. Sometimes there is just one, other years there are two and rarely, there will be three eggs.
Bald eagles often use the same nest year after year. This is out of necessity, as the nest is no small project. It is situated in the highest branches of the tallest trees.
According to Wikipedia, a bald eagle’s nest can be as much as 13 feet deep, over 8 feet wide and weigh one metric ton. This engineering feat is located high in the tall branches of a massive tree and created by birds weighing about 7 to 14 pounds each.
To see the eagles soaring, high in the sky, right in our own backyard on the lake is nothing short of a gift and we embrace it with this mindset every year.
When they fly, they are often fishing. Bald eagles are accomplished fisher birds. They have excellent eyesight. They dive bomb at a speed of 75 to 100 miles per hour before snaring the fish in their talons.
We named our eagles George and Martha. Both mom and dad eagle take turns sitting on their eggs and looking after their offspring. When not in the nest, proper, they can often be seen on a nearby branch.
Last summer George and Martha had one eaglet; we weren’t sure if he (or she) was a male or female, but we named (him?) Washington. Washington was a busy eaglet. We often heard him crying for food.
This year we were considering naming our eaglets either Jefferson, John Quincy and/or Homer Simpson, depending on the size of the clutch.
We spotted the nest up high in the treetops. I had my binoculars ready. I could see, sadly, that the nest was unoccupied. There weren’t any adult eagles sitting on nearby branches. The place looked abandoned.
We visited again today and found the same lack of activity. What would make them abandon their nest? We don’t know.
The eagles were always a bright spot to our summer. There are likely other pairs on our lake, and we will look for them. If we are lucky we will find a family and get to know them. We may even come up with new names.
— Jill Pertler’s column Slices of Life appears regularly in the Times.
