Soaring With Eagles
Last week my in-laws were in town for a visit. And by “in-laws” I mean father-in-law, mother-in-law, uncle-Bubba-in-law, aunt-in-law, and RV-in-law. On previous trips the RV-in-law has set up shop in our backyard, running its 14 gigawatt plug through our kitchen window and into our wall, causing our household appliances to writhe and shriek in pain as they have the life slowly sucked from them because the RV-in-law decided it needs French Toast and so it fires up the stove.
But this time, RV-in-law headed south towards Jordan Lake, where we spent a rainy, dreary, wet Mother’s Day afternoon. That’s right: ten people crammed into RV-in-law, with nary an inch of room to dip the French Toast in the egg bath, but plenty of room to watch I Love Lucy reruns. (And now I know why Adele always wants to set fi-eye-re to the rain.)
But I digress.
Prior to the rain, my 15 year old was wandering the campsite, and came tearing back up the path to tell us that there was a bald eagle in the trees. Now, Austin has a tendency to see things that aren’t really there, like the time he was on a Sean May sighting kick and it usually ended up being a 5’2″ white guy. But because the French Toast wasn’t ready, I followed him back to the lake.
And there, it all its glory: a bald eagle. Out in nature. The real deal. The kind of raw power that could have snatched up a small child or clawed my face off with its large talons.
So I grabbed the camera and snapped a picture as it flew away, then snapped a picture of the camera’s viewfinder with my iPhone, and here was the result. Given that it’s a picture of a picture, it’s kind of beautiful, yes?
(If you click on the photo, the eagle does a cool trick where he flies upside down. And no, I don’t know why.)
Hey National Geographic, if you need me, hit the “Make Contact” tab above.