White Heads
On the morning of December 4th, I was heading to the river as usual. Something in my gut told me to head to where my old Eagle's nest was. That nest produced offspring since 2017, although last year 2019-2020, it failed. The eggs were deemed nonviable. Watching the pair fly off and leave the nest in late March broke my heart, yet I knew that Mother Nature is, after all, in control.
Reviewing my notes on that particular nest site, I saw that the adults arrived long before our typical mating season so I would occasionally take a run out there. My routine has always been to take a photo of the nest AFTER the pair (and fledglings if any) vacated the premises for the year. The photos become my "benchmark" to compare when and if any work is done to the nest for the upcoming season.
It's looked untouched and empty throughout September, October and November and I actually began thinking that the pair might not return. Sometimes, when a nest "fails" the adults will either rebuild a second nest within their territory or move on entirely. Again, nature's way.
So, on the morning of 12/4, I arrived long before daybreak. Sunrise was a long way off. Standing there in the dark looking in the direction of the nest, all I saw was total darkness yet I felt something. And then I heard them..."chitter, chitter, bleek, bleek, bleek"! Waiting patiently for daybreak, I stood silently clutching my binoculars and phone ready to dictate notes It seemed to take FOREVER to get light enough. Yet when it did, there they were, perched on their favorite branches connected to the nest. (Look for the two white heads.)
When I left that morning, I was, as usual thinking about my BFF who died last year. It was her that told me to come look. That day was the day she died.
seeing, saying, sharing...
White Heads
with you and
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