The Cherry Tree Buck and Other Stories by Robin Moore

Author:Robin Moore [Moore, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Groundhog Press
Published: 2012-12-09T05:00:00+00:00

The Heart of an Eagle

If there was anyone who loved birds more than my grandfather, it had to be my Uncle Cliff.

Clifford even looked a little like a bird. He was tall and thin and bald on top, with a long neck and a big Adam’s apple that stuck out above his shirt collar. He and my aunt Sarah raised chicken and Turkeys on their farm down in Woodward.

One summery day, Grandpa and I drove down the valley to pay them a visit. Their farm was small but well kept, with a neat barn and outbuildings, a barnyard for animals and a little jewel of a pond.

When we pulled in, Cliff waved to us from his chair on the porch.

“Good to see you boys!” he hollered. “What brings you down this way?”

Grandpa grinned. “Just came for a change of scenery. Why don’t you show us around the place?”

Cliff proudly showed us the work he had done on the outside of the barn and a few extra chicken coops he had added.

As we were walking by one of the coops, he motioned to us.

“I want you boys to come over here and have a look at this,” he said.

I hooked my fingers in the chicken wire and peered into the dusty enclosure. I strained my eyes in among the sea of milling, clucking hens. Toward the back, partly hidden by shadows, I saw a bird that was bigger and darker than the rest, scratching in the dirt.

“He looks like a crow,” I said.

Grandpa laid a hand on my shoulder. “Look again. That’s no crow, Robin. That’s a sure-enough Bald Eagle!”

I had seen Bald Eagles before, riding the wind currents along the mountain ridges. But this bird didn’t look like any eagle I had ever seen.

“Where are his markings?” I asked. My grandfather had taught me to pick out the eagles by the white markings on the head and tail.

“He hasn’t got any adult plumage yet.” Clifford answered. “He’s an immature male, all dusky-colored now.”

My grandfather just shook his head in amazement.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,’ he said. “I never thought I’d live to see any eagle in a chicken coop. Talk about letting the fox in the hen house. Aren’t you worried he’ll make a meal of your chickens?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Why not?”

Clifford sighed. “Because that eagle doesn’t know he’s an eagle. He thinks he’s a chicken.”

“How come?” I asked.

“Well, it all started about a year ago. I got a call from a family that lives near Bald Eagle Mountain, saying they found a Bald Eagle’s nest, full of eggs. But they didn’t see an adult eagle anywhere around. Naturally, they were afraid that something must have happened to the mama. So they called me to see if I could save the eggs.

“I drove over to have a look and, sure enough, it was a Bald Eagle’s nest. I called Ralph Hebner down at the state police barracks and wouldn’t you know, they had arrested some durned fool who took a shot at a mature female eagle with a .

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