As I walked to the lake yesterday (without boots!) I could hear the unmistakeable cry of an eagle. I hurried, hoping to see the adults switch places on the nest. Or maybe get a glimpse of them bringing food back.
But when I got there, the nesting eagle was alone. Every couple of minutes, it threw back its head to give the squeaky, danger-in-the-area call.
I kept waiting for the mate to fly in, as they usually do, to holler in duet against the danger. For twenty minutes, I waited, with one eye on the sky.
The eagle continued to cry, even though I couldn’t see what had upset it so. The loons weren’t in the area. Nor crows or seagulls. The osprey didn’t appear to be hunting either.
Suddenly, I heard the flapping of a large wingspan. Looking straight up, I realized a juvenile eaglet had been over my head, hidden in the branches of a big pine the whole time! It flew down the shoreline, only to circle around and come back again.
I never did get a good picture of the juvenile, as he soared over the trees I was standing under. I would have kept camera-hunting him, but the black clouds had arrived to let loose a steady stream of big, fat raindrops.
I still have no proof of the eggs hatching, but this eagle did seem to be sitting a little higher on the nest. I’ll check again tomorrow to see what I can see!