This past Saturday, my partner and I were in Point Richmond and spotted a bald eagle flying high overhead. The white head and tail feathers were unmistakable, and we stood there, staring in awe.
I saw my first bald eagle 15 years ago in the Boundary Waters in Minnesota. I could not believe my eyes or ears. It is such an iconic bird, yet for the first three decades of my life, they were endangered. I was never sure I’d ever see one.
I can’t remember the first time I saw one here in Northern California, but they no longer surprise me. Heck, there was even a pair living in Piedmont last year, just a few miles from where I live. It still feels special, though.
The very next morning, two flew high overhead while we were doing our regular habitat restoration at Skyline Gardens. They were accompanied by a turkey vulture, a red-tailed hawk, and an irritated raven trying (and eventually succeeding) to chase the large raptors away. I couldn’t believe my luck as I stared up at them in wonder.
About ten years ago, I saw Corey Arnold give an amazing presentation at Pop-Up Magazine about how bald eagles were seen as pesky flying rats in Alaska because of how they picked through trash en masse. It muted my awe of bald eagles a little bit.
But not that much. This morning, I wondered what Matt Kracht’s The Field Guide to Dumb Birds of North America, which my nephew had recently given me for my birthday, had to say about bald eagles. I wholeheartedly agreed with its assessment:
Is this bird flawed? Hell, yes — it’s a bird. But it stands for the promise of something good. Please, don’t even get me started, because this is the best motherfucking bird there is. Period.
