For folks who still follow local news, bald eagles have been very much a hot topic. The saga of Liberty and Justice, two eagles nesting near the DC Fire Academy; the importuning Aaron Burrd; and the masked destroyer of their unfortunate eggs has been on everybody’s lips.
But when I emerged from the chapel this week on Wednesday morning, and joined the folks who were looking up, I found that we had our own distinguished visitor. Perched on the cross atop our spire was the first bald eagle I have ever seen or even heard of on the property. I do not know, however, if this is one of the celebrity eagles from the tabloids.
Our visiting eagle looked dignified, but a little rough. It looked as if his feathers were ruffled, and maybe there was a wound above his eye. That same morning another bald eagle, badly injured, was found on the metro tracks over in Prince George’s county; I have heard no suggestion that anyone witnessed a fight between that one and another eagle, but such things are hardly rare. The private lives of bald eagles are complicated things.
The crows who often perch on that same cross were offended by the eagle’s presence, and tried to intimidate him into leaving, to no avail. Stupid crows. You can tell by looking at the photograph how impressed he was by their taunts and threats. The eagle stayed precisely as long as the eagle wanted, then left for places that are doubtless lofty and imposing.
To be a bald eagle, you must always be ready to be photographed, clearly. Karyn Zanger caught this shot with a long lens she had handy.
Such events were interpreted by the ancients as omens or portents of impending dramas. It is good to be liberated from such superstitions, but perhaps it is a commentary on the shrinking vistas and limited interests of our society that instead of messengers of the gods, our commentators see them instead as characters in a soap opera.
Monsignor Smith
