Juvenile Bald Eagle

 

Day 118: Let's get one thing straight right up front: I am not impressed by eagles. I know, yes, there was a time when we were worried about the survival of the species, but no longer. In fact, here in the Pacific Northwest they're fairly common. Today, walking along the Bud Blancher Trail in the snow, I saw half a dozen or so ranging from juveniles (above) to adults, lined up in the trees and ready to perform their duties as garbage collectors. They'll eat the salmon carcases which wash up on the banks of the river, and they're always here in numbers during spawning season. Another good place to find them is at the county dump, joining forces with simiilarly-minded gulls and pigeons to rummage through the trash. They are far from the "noble" distinction put on them by humans. We'd have been better served to make the national bird the turkey, as suggested by Ben Franklin. At least you can eat a turkey.

Garbage Pigeons

Day 110: East coast friends think I'm exaggerating when I say that Bald Eagles are almost as common as sparrows in the Pacific Northwest. Well, here's the proof. There were at least thirty perched in the trees west of the Kapowsin landfill this morning with another thirty circling like vultures overhead, adults and juveniles in roughly equivalent numbers. It's a popular hangout for them, and long ago inspired me to start referring to them as "garbage pigeons." I doubt that my readers need to be assured that I love birds in general, but there are a few species which incur my disdain: Band-Tailed Pigeons, Starlings, and yes, Bald Eagles. I've often puzzled as to why the species was chosen as the National Bird, but I begin to see the logic as I follow current social and political trends. After all, this less-than-majestic denizen of the dump chooses to feed on garbage rather than putting out the effort to find something better, more substantive. Yes, Baldies are a good icon for much of today's American public.

Waiting For Dead Salmon

Day 97: On my way out of Eatonville yesterday, I noticed four Bald Eagles perched in the customary trees alongside the Mashell River, two adults and two juveniles. "Yeah," I said to myself, "they've dumped another load of salmon carcases." Noble bird, my eye! These iconic birds are nothing more than glorified pigeons, scavenging whatever scraps they can get: dead salmon after spawning season, elk remains, garbage from the local landfill. I see them perched by the dozen in the trees alongside the dump almost every time I go to town. The clever crows or ravens can easily get the better of members of this rather dull species, one bird distracting the eagle while another steals its prize. The eagles don't seem to understand the concept of teamwork and cooperation, and if the metaphor of their gullibility and affinity for garbage was ever more fitting than now, I couldn't say when.

Big Blonde Sparrows

Day 98: My east-coast friends get very excited when they spot a Bald Eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus). I keep telling them, "I see 'em almost every time I go to town. Out here, they're like sparrows...big blonde sparrows." These photos show three out of the sixteen I observed in the space of twenty minutes. Two were juveniles, one near the confluence of the Nisqually River and Ohop Creek, and the other alongside Alder Lake. The others were in Eatonville, drawn by a "fish dump" of salmon carcases (a habitat-restoration practice) in the Mashel River, nine at Smallwood Park. Iggles, schmiggles...what's the big deal? I'll trade you east-coasters a half dozen for just ONE Chickadee who will hold still long enough for me to get a picture!

Juvenile Bald Eagle, Haliaeetus Leucocephalus

Day 120: I know my east-coast readers will find it hard to believe, but Bald Eagles are a common sight in the Pacific Northwest, especially along rivers and lakeshores. As I began my walk on the Bud Blancher Trail on Tuesday, there were nine perched in close proximity to the first bridge. The present gathering is partly due to a recent "fish toss," the return of frozen salmon carcases to the waterway as part of a habitat restoration project. Word spreads among these big birds when the food source is plentiful; otherwise, this section of the Mashel is normally the territory of one or two pair and their offspring. Both adults and juveniles were out and about, this youngster posing for his close-up to the delight of local photographers.

Fowl Language

Day 106: "And don't sass me back!" The sounds of argument came down to me like a shower of hail as I walked the Bud Blancher Trail this morning. Clearly, someone was having their place in the pecking order explicitly defined with great vigour. Occasionally, I'd hear a mew of complaint, shrill and whiny, quickly followed by a stern command. The playground bully was made to stand in the corner of the classroom, head bowed in humiliation, as the teacher executed a silent repertoire of postures meant to reinforce the rule of the roost. I have never seen a Bald Eagle look as hang-dog as this one, clearly indicating a demotion from alpha by only looking up when both birds were distracted by a low-flying aircraft. After the plane passed, Raven made a gesture of beak-snapping and a head thrust to which the Eagle responded with a resumption of the "downcast eyes" position. Authority was re-established immediately.

The dispute was undoubtedly over feeding privileges. The Nisqually Stream Stewards recently held a "fish toss" nearby, returning frozen salmon carcasses to the waterway as part of a habitat restoration project. Dead fish always draw Eagles: in fact, I counted eight or nine individuals during my six-mile walk. Like other corvids, the opportunistic Ravens are always ready to join the feast and often get into arguments with the larger birds over possession. Intelligence invariably wins out over instinct, and no sensible Eagle will stand up to a Raven for long. This one certainly knew when he was licked!

Under The Double Eagle

Day 103: On my way in town today, I thought I'd take a short walk (3-mile round trip) out to the second bridge on the Bud Blancher Trail in Eatonville. At the turn-around point, I heard the familiar keening cry of a Bald Eagle and looked up to see two perched in a tree and a third circling nearby. All three were intently surveying the Little Mashel River until they happened to notice me. You can't really appreciate the size of these majestic birds properly until you come under the same scrutiny as a potential salmon breakfast. While I may not be exactly bite-sized (close!), when those yellow eyes were trained on me, I felt rather small indeed!

Eagle Day

Day 91: With something close to spring-like weather today, I opted to take a nine-mile walk on the Foothills Trail in lieu of a shorter local walk and second session on the exercise bike. Thick fog lay over Orting at the start of my hike, but dissipated over the first hour to reveal beautiful blue skies. As I approached the landmark I call the Warbler Bridge, I noticed two Bald Eagles perched in a tall cottonwood. Eagles are a fairly common sight along most western Washington rivers, but over my last several walks along the Carbon, they have seemed substantially more abundant than usual. Common or not, they are still a spectacular sight, and this fellow appeared to be taking advantage of the sun to warm his wings. The second bird was perched just below and to the left of him. I snapped several photos before continuing on to my turn-around point at the South Prairie Wetland interpretive area, but the eagles didn't budge an inch in the time I was gone. I was glad they were still there. I got better photos on the second shooting.

Vertical Bookends

Day 115: I was fifteen minutes into a workout on the stationary bike when I saw one of my back neighbors walking down the driveway. He was moving slowly as he usually does and I figured he was on his way out to get the mail, but a minute or so later, I saw his wife trotting out behind him. Neither of them passed into the field of view from my front window until several minutes had passed, and then I saw them both standing near the end of the driveway staring UP. That was enough to raise my curiosity, so I dismounted and followed the line of their gaze to a white head glistening in the sunshine high in one of Clyde's trees. Eagle! Hot and sweaty, I grabbed the camera, slid on a pair of shoes and dived into the cold clad in shorts, an athletic tank top and a bright red headband, drawing stares from every passing car as I stood beside the neighbors dressed in their winter woollies, right down to gloves and hats. Then I realized there were two birds, not one. Zoomed in at 74x (digital), the photo lacks a bit in clarity, but other than a slight crop, this image has not been processed in any way.