Heron ripped from the sky,
gray feathers hard ground—
an eagle’s trail remains.
Noooooooooooo. Not one of your herons!
A sign of hard times, I’m afraid Babsje. We saw the eagle in a pile immature Red Tail feathers the week before. The ground squirrel population has been reduced so much that most of the coyotes have left for the orchards in the Valley, only to be replaced by bears and lions out of the hills. It’s tough out there.
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Understood. That is the way of Nature. For the first time at my favorite lake here, Bald Eagles have established a foothold. We saw a couple intermittently last year, but no consistent presence. This year? An entirely different story. 100% of the Cygnets vanished this summer. The GBH did not breed in their two usual nests. I am sure it is an impact of the Eagles. I watched a Red Tail Hawk and an Osprey pester a juvenile Bald Eagle in flight last week, and saw the Osprey attack the Eagle mid-air, no casualties. The Eagles are a real game changer for the ecosystem here.
I understand the way of Nature and of change, but some things are heatbreaking nonetheless. Your photo and poem are poignant and evocative.
There is something regal about a GBH gracing a landscape, always such a shame to lose one.
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