Friday, November 11, 2011

Starting Over

111111:  Two mornings ago I was out in our backyard very early.  I took notice that the sun had risen to a cloudless sky and was warming the morning air.  Suddenly a series of screeches cut through the silence.  I didn't need to seek the source, for I know that if I hear her she is always there perched on that dead pinion of the Eastern slope looking out over her territory at the lake.  I turned to see her, knowing I would spy her in the distance. I was not disappointed.  I left momentarily to retrieve my camera and binoculars and as I reentered the backyard she screeched again through the silence.  So silent I swear I heard her call echo through the hills.  In the focus of my binoculars I could see the sharpness in her eyes, the yellow of her beak, the sun glinting off the sheen of her feathers.  Good morning, lovely.  She was looking towards the rising sun.   Probably for her next meal.  I never tire of seeing the majestic beauty of our Bald Eagles. Never.

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