The Fledgling
I saw the mist shrouded red sunrise from my sleeping bag this morning, too cold to get out and warm my tea water. I love the cool crisp weather that comes this time of year and found myself a little unprepared for it mentally. Contrasting beautifully with the dry yellow grass, the sky was a smokey haze of a blue when I finally arose. The warm sun rays cutting into the mist of the river, manifesting early morning wind.
Katchaawwww, ketchaawwww, ket, ket came bird cries from above. Mom “Will you walk with me down to the river, I want to show you something.” Thoughts of how short and precious this time of childhood is quietly whispering in my head. “Of course, let me get me sandals on and grab my tea.” The whole family headed down. It feels good to stretch my legs after a long drive and the first night of camping in awhile. “Hurry up Mom, it might be gone!” I clamber down the wet dirt river bank, half falling, glad to stop myself before the water. “Come on Mom!” “There! Big Crawdad!!” she says and throws a rock. It does not dart away. The bright orange sediment, now removed, revealed “its white skeleton” she says. “Exoskeleton” I offer, “crayfish don’t have a skeleton.”
She is not interested in my offering, she just wants me there with her; exploring this new world. I amble on. Keplunk, a leopard print frog fancifully leaps over my foot. No one chases it in the water ~ yet. Ket, ket, ket, katchaaawwww cries a rather bedraggled looking speckled fledgling from above. We spot its companion, a large brown feathered body with iconic white head: The Bald Eagle.
The fragrant scent of mint wafts through that air as another leopard printed frog jumps into the water in front of me. This one proceeds to ram itself into rocks, I wonder if it’s sick. Crawdads dart this way and that. A light green slim like algae coats the rocks along the shallows of the river. Minnows swimming around give the impression that this water is teaming with life; no wonder those bald eagles are here. My snake instinct alerts me, something in the grass is moving. I stop and listen. No, not snake, frog! I go for this one and catch it, but only for a few seconds. It pushes through my fingers and is gone in the river.
I go in after it, crawdads now too numerous to count. I catch it again, one hand still holding my tea. It escapes through my fingers. Again, I pursue and capture; hand off to my daughter and he’s escaped! Everyone is in pursuit now. Having observed earlier this ramming of it’s head into rocks, I am now privy to its tactics. Fingers closed, I close in around his mouth, anticipating the strong push of his nose through my fingers. Apparently, when stressed this frog species rams itself into things, head on. I think I know some of its descendants.
After some time of catch-and-escape tag with the frogs our interest wanes and we head back up to camp. Now we find ourselves distracted from our chores of packing up by the cries of the fledgling bald eagle. It sounds to me like a child crying, whining almost. Through the binoculars I observe the fledgling fly up to the adult and sit, katchaaaawwwww ket ket, he sounds like a shorebird. I say ‘He’, because he is nearly as big as the bald eagle he sits next to, which I assume to be his mother. He is crying, as if to beg for her to feed him. She flies away to a nearby rock outcropping. He sits and cries, looking all around. After sometimes he alights in flight and lands again next to her; Ketchaaaawww ket ket ketchaaaaaawwwwww. Again, she leaves to a nearby outcropping as if to say ~ “You are big enough now, get your own breakfast!” Or at least this is what I think she is saying.
I feel like I am watching my upcoming parenting-an-adolescent years in fast forward here on the banks of the North Platte. This mother Bald Eagle stepping back, ignoring the pleading cries of her oversized fledgling in favor of him learning to hunt for himself, but still watching. I literally observed her hiding being a rock and peering over the top at her fledgling. I wonder how long this dance has been happening; a month, weeks, days, just today? I mean, he sounds pretty hungry. Is this the time he is going to do it & get himself some food?
I wonder what these upcoming years will be like for me and my children. My eldest just entering his teen years, and a few savory last years of childhood with my daughter. My supposed end goal being to get them out of the nest as healthy & capable human beings. While I’m confident the day that I am ready for this will come, it’s currently a little hard to grasp ~ but not entirely.
Another Bald Eagle is cruising in from upstream. Ketchaaawwww, ketchaaawww, ket, ket, ket cries the fledgling in recognition. Strong, slow beats of this new birds wings, he comes in and floats above the fledging, coaxing him to flight. The fledgling takes flight and flies to mother; she alights in flight to another band of rock.
Eventually the fledgling takes to flight with this big eagle, perhaps his father. The mother joins them as they sweep up stream above the band of rock they’ve been playing this game of chase on. Zig zagging they move upstream and are joined joyously by others, the celebratory flight of the fledgling that left the nest! They’re on the move now, further upstream to a rusty yellow grove of cottonwood trees perched above the river.
We are on our way too. Our two day journey to Yellowstone only allows us a short time here in this secluded campground a few miles north of i-80 near Sinclair, Wyoming.
