a fishing eagle

A first-year Bald Eagle was over the creek this morning. It was on the other side of the creek, not directly in my field of vision, and I didn't initially recognize it for what it was. Then I noticed out of the corner of my eye that it was dragging its feet in the water. This bird was much bigger than both the Osprey and the Red-tailed Hawk that were also moving over the creek. In any case, Red-tails don't fish and Osprey don't fish like that (they plunge in feet first). The big bird, as soon as it hit the water, pulled out and headed right over to Pine Neck to settle on the top of one of the trees directly opposite, presumably to enjoy its breakfast. There it sat silhouetted against the rising sun while it was immediately attacked by a passel of crows. After ignoring the nasty crows for a while (and perhaps polishing off its catch), it jumped into the air and, shaking off its tormenters, flapped its way up an updraft. It was a windy morning with cold breezes out of the northeast and the bird had to work hard until it reached a high soaring spot in the sky where I lost track of it. This was the first time that I can recall actually seeing a fishing eagle in the act of fishing and it reminded me that our national bird is one of a widespread group of eight species of fishing 'sea eagles', all in the genus Haliaeetus.

Besides these three raptors there was a Cooper's Hawk which came across the creek to our side and, after making a pass at a Great Egret sitting in the open on a dead branch, it settled somewhere inside the woods. This was an adult bird in the beautiful 'blue darter' plumage. Another Cooper's Hawk in juvenile plumage flew back across the creek so there were at least two of these accipiters around.

Speaking of the Great Egret which stood its ground against the Cooper's Hawk, I think that this the same bird that I see every morning along with a single Great Blue Heron, both perched on the edge of our woods facing the marsh. Ironically, the Great Blue, usually sitting higher and much further back, is invariably spooked when I show up and comes squawking out and away. Yet, at the same time, the Egret will sit calmly and watch me sauntering by even as I pass right under its perch.

Also in the mix -- but definitely more nervous and spookable -- is a noisy Yellowlegs but whether Greater or Lesser I am never quite sure.

Eric Salzman