There is something in every human heart that yearns to be wild and free. We all sense it. We know that we awaken each day under bondage to burdens, cares and concerns that tether us to realities that are every bit as restricting as a heavy metal ball. Our midnight-hour dreams often carry us away from that oppressive weight allowing us to glimpse a freedom that we long to embrace. Occasionally those dreams may allow our burdens and fears to come crashing down upon us like shards of glass and we toss and turn or even awaken in the darkness to escape the nightmare.
Perhaps that is one reason we admire the eagles so. In the midst of their everyday struggle for survival they soar wild and free in a way that touches our hearts with hope and admiration.
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(Dear reader, we have not ventured out together in a while so let’s spend a day with Orv and Willa! I’ll be by to pick you up in a minute!)
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You are waiting expectantly as I arrive! The weather today is perfect for eagle watching. The air is a crisp and clean 58 degrees and the forecasters are calling for a high of 78 with low humidity and a soft breeze. After the summer’s stifling, stagnant, moisture-laden air, this late August day carries the first hint of autumn’s welcomed approach!
“Good morning! Can you believe this weather?” you ask as you buckle your seatbelt. That simple question launches our conversation as we set off for Carillon. (It is funny how conversations progress from topic to topic, meandering like a curious child on a stroll changing his focus from bird, to bug, to flower, to sidewalk crack…) By the time we have purchased our morning coffees we have covered the weather, our mutual weariness of the Covid restrictions, our similar feelings for the abundance of political shenanigans these days and few other topics. As we near the river our conversation slows as our eyes busy themselves with searching the skies and our lips are equally preoccupied with sipping our coffees.
“Roger’s already here.” you observe as we turn onto Carillon Boulevard. “He must live here.” I quip. We both admire his dedication and skill with his camera. You cannot get the picture if you are not in the right place at the right time and Roger seems to have a real knack to knowing how to find both. “I used to compete with him in our pursuit to capture the perfect image but I gave up on that about ten years ago.” I admit. “You just can’t compete with a God-given talent.” As we park we notice two other eagle photographers parked a little greater distance down the road.
There is a slight haze on the river, concealing its secrets in the early morning sunlight. A great blue heron silently stalks her prey along the water’s edge. A belted kingfisher is perched atop a fog shrouded log that a higher water level had deposited on the far shore. Small gatherings a geese dot the riverscape and a lone osprey circles upstream. The stage is set. All the players are in place so we stand in the cool air and chat with one another as we wait for the warming sunbeams to raise the curtain for Act One.
As that curtain slowly rises we find ourselves surmising where Orv and Willa’s Prop and Rudder have gone. Although Prop was fairly young when she vanished last month she was a very capable flyer. Rudder’s more resent vanishing act occurred after a few additional weeks of experience. In either case we have no way of actually knowing where they have disappeared to. “Isn’t that what wild and free mean?” you ask. “After all, that is what we anticipate, what we hope for. We look forward to the youngsters growing stronger in both physical abilities and and hunting capabilities so that they may become independent.” We all nod in agreement, yet with a real sense of loss for not knowing more of the details. “We have no reason to suspect that either juvenile has encountered some tragic event.” I add. The truth is, we may never know the answers we seek. Even if they pass our way over the coming months, we will likely never know if the juvenile we are watching is Prop or Rudder. Then, as if on cue, a lone juvenile emerges from the vanishing vapor and passes high overhead on its way to wherever it desires to go. We smile.

Now the group along the levee has grown to about ten in number. Some are toting cameras with long lenses while others hold only a cell phone. One has no camera at all, content just to watch the adventure unfold. The levee provides ample space for social distancing from which to view the excitement.
From somewhere upstream the lone osprey has returned and is circling high above the river searching the flowing waters below for breakfast. We watch as it kites, hovering in the air, folds its wings and plummets downward. Cameras sing capturing the big splash as the bird hits its mark.

A few seconds later it rises above the water carrying its catch. It stutters a bit as it shakes the excess water from its wings and begins to slowly gain altitude. As we concentrate on the osprey our eyes are drawn to another rapidly approaching hunter! Willa is coming in fast and she is focused on the osprey, or rather the osprey’s fish. “Where did she come from?” someone asks. It is amazing how suddenly a huge eagle can appear seemingly out of nowhere. We watch as the smaller osprey takes evasive action but Willa will not be deterred. In less than a minute the masked hunter releases its prize and the eagle dives for the falling treat. She catches the fish a few feet above the river’s surface and heads to a nearby perch as the hungry osprey makes a wide circle and heads back upstream.
All attention is now focused on the mistress of Carillon as she dines on her stolen meal. We don’t know whether to feel happy for her or sad for the osprey.

Actually, the real loser here was the fish. Willa contentedly dines as we watch. The morning sunlight has grown more intense illuminating Willa’s bright head feathers as she sits within the shadowy foliage.

She is really something!
We decide to walk inside the park to hopefully find Orv or, if we are really lucky, Prop or Rudder. The park is extremely quiet as we pass through the entrance. It is half past ten and only a few masked people are wandering through the outdoor exhibits. As we walk we search the treetops, paying special attention to several familiar perches. As we near Wright Hall we check out the nest.

No longer the focal point of activity, the nest stands idle for now. Orv and Willa will begin adding to its mass this autumn and winter to prepare it for February’s eggs. The old, dead limb that serves as its main support is showing more deterioration than ever. Moisture and decay will eventually take their toll on the brace as more weight is added to the nest. Hopefully Orv and Willa will begin a second nest in a nearby tree this fall to serve as a backup to their Hillside Condo.
Our search through the park is peppered by conversations with the visitors we encounter. Some ask where the eagles might be. Others want to know their history and seek an update on Prop and Rudder. Some admit that they were completely unaware that eagles were nesting in the park, or in Dayton at all for that matter. It is nearly noon before we return to the levee after finding no sign of Orv or either youngster.
The group along the River Corridor Bikeway atop the river bank has grown to about 20 now with the edition of two families picnicking on the grassy slope. Some of the regulars explain that Willa had left the tree about twenty minutes prior to our return and had flown downstream. We again join in conversation with others as we watch and wait. Waiting is the biggest part of eagle watching.
After almost an hour we both comment on our own growing hunger and decide to grab a late lunch in Culp’s Cafe, within the park’s main building. We are seated inside the restored Barney and Smith streetcar and are soon approached by our server. She asks if we know what we would like for lunch and I answer, “Anything, as long as it isn’t a raw fish stolen from an osprey.” For some reason the server looks a bit puzzled and responds, “I’ll give you a few more minutes.” before walking away. After our very tasty meals you insist on picking up the tab stating that it is only right since I drove. (Thanks, by the way.)
Once again we return to the levee and all cameras are pointed to the opposite river’s edge. There Willa and Orv stand in the water finishing up a late lunch of their own.

After their meal and an apparent squabble or two Willa lifts off and passes directly over our heads as she heads back to the large tree along the entrance road. We are so focused on her that we almost miss Orv’s approach. (Almost.)

He follows her to the tree and lands just a few feet from his mate.

This Follow The Leader behavior has become more apparent over the last few days and signals the approach of Courting Season. Now that the demands of childrearing are behind them their focus is turning to each other. Autumn and early winter are more carefree and less demanding so they can work on strengthening their lifelong pair-bond that will sustain them through whatever trials lie ahead. I call it The Dance and the opening strains of its overture are already spiraling upward like late summer thermals, lifting their bodies and spirits heavenward. As 2020 winds down the eagles will become more aroused in their mutual devotion and admiration as they dance across the skies. The age old melody will crescendo as mating begins in January. I confess to you that this is my favorite time of the year as their pristine plumage and crisp, clean air will provide for wonderfully inspirational scenes against the brilliant explosion of fall colors.
Together they perch for the next two hours. Orv even poses for the cameras as he dries his feathers and warms his body in the afternoon sun.

Passing cars slow to a crawl as drivers and passenger peer up at the treetop to see what the photographers are aiming at. Some pull over altogether and leave their cars to snap a picture or two. Encountering wild eagles can turn an ordinary day into something extraordinary. We continue to watch and share the excitement for the next two hours as we capture images from different angles. Finally Willa takes flight and heads toward the river. Orv follows in a matter of seconds. That is how the dance progresses. Slowly they circle. Gradually they gain altitude. Higher and higher, together they dance.

Tethered below, together we watch as the King and Queen of Carillon eventually dissolve into the clear, blue sky and vanish from sight.
As we drive away we realize anew how blessed we are to witness it all. With all the challenges that cross our paths these days, we long for that untethered liberty exhibited by those majestic, soaring wings. Unbridled, unbroken, untamed and with unbounded devotion they dance effortlessly into the future, together, wild and free!
