It’s Sunday, March 19th and nothing’s changed.  An eagle sits on the nest and another circles overhead. They call out.  Are they warning us away or communicating with one another?

On Monday, we try something new and park our vehicle further down the road. We make our way to a rocky ledge on the opposite bank of the river where a clearing in the canopy gives us a view although we’re now 200 yards away with an expanse of water between us and the nest.  Ted’s camera is nearly maxed out at this distance. His photos are blurry.

Through binoculars I  see nothing unusual.  I’m cold and tired of snow and freezing rain. Will spring ever come this year? Will the eggs ever hatch if they’re even there?  We haven’t actually seen any.  We leave our post and go for a short exploratory trek in the woods.  Upon our return, she’s gone.

Has the eagle left her eggs unattended on a cold afternoon? Phew! Our eagle is not ruthless afterall.  We spy a glint of her white head in a tree nearby, her eagle eyes glued to the nest.  Poor bedraggled dear, she must be tired, too, of infinitisimal waiting. Where is her mate?

On Wednesday, March 20th, we observe the mother alone on her nest. Ted thinks he sees her spitting out something white as if she’s cleaned her nest of feces, he says. Has she projectile vomited whatever she’s plucked up with her beak? I’m amazed. How could I have missed seeing such a thing? It’s warmer today but we’re traveling to Connecticut tomorrow with colder weather on the way. We wonder if the eggs will have hatched by the time we return.


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