On Tuesdays, I write slices of stories from my week! All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!
During the last few summers, I took several trips up the Pawcatuck River, trying to spot the bald eagles my nephew talked about.
"They're almost always in the dead tree across from Timothy Street," he'd say.
One time, I saw a shadowy birdlike silhouette high in the tree, but it flew before I got close enough to know for sure that it was one of eagles.
I've also gone for several hikes closer to home, but in places where other friends have spotted eagles. One friend reports that he sees them all the time at the bridge in Collinsville. All the time? Not the times I've gone!
We spent this past weekend in Maine since our second daughter's soccer team played Bates and Colby. We stayed with many other parents at the hotel where the team stayed, and it was situated in an industrialized section of central Maine. When our friend Polly suggested a walk before Sunday's game, I envisioned navigating our way through Home Depot parking lots and busy roads. I should have known better given what I know about Polly. She had done a search using Google Earth and located a beautiful walking path along the Kennebec River within a ten minute drive from the hotel.
In mid-October, Maine is colorful with changing leaves, but still warm. Four of us walked the path, analyzing Saturday's game, prognosticating the rest of the season, and appreciating the beauty. Walking back toward the parking lot, our conversations were interrupted with an unfamiliar bird call.
"Did you hear that?" I asked.
"We did," Polly answered. "It was definitely something because the people ahead of us are all looking up, too."
I followed their gaze toward the high branches of a pine tree. A white-headed bird made a quick movement. I pointed to it, describing to Garth, Polly, and Tracey where it was.
"Is that a bald eagle," I asked the woman who was closest to us.
She nodded. "There's a nest across the river. Sometimes we get to see him."
We stood and watched him for a while, and he seemed to watch us, as well, occasionally pruning or looking toward the river.
I didn't have my phone with me, but Tracey took pictures, and maybe at some point, I'll insert a picture into this post, but for now, writing about it feels like enough. As we finished our walk and even now, as I think about the whole weekend, he was a special part of an overall magical couple of days.
Happy Slicing,
