September 30, 2019 – Our third stop coming down Kentucky Lake was at the Clay Bar anchorage. “Look for the bald eagle nest on the south shore”, the review said.
We didn’t go all the way back in, because we wanted to catch some of the southwest breeze on what was projected to be a mid-90s day, but as we dropped the anchor, Chantale had already seen a bald eagle overhead. As we scanned the treeline with binoculars, we saw two adults sitting at opposite ends of the cove; within a half hour, they were perched together. Wow, what a sight!
We saw some juveniles, lacking the adults’ white head and tail feathers and yellow beak, flying in circles, practicing, we imagined. Catching a thermal, one was followed by an adult, higher and higher, and they disappeared over the ridge.
In mid-afternoon, I saw one flying low past the boat, with a commotion in the water behind him. His talons were empty, an unusual sight. We’d seen several bald eagles taking fish from the rivers before, and it seemed they never missed. He swooped up to land in a tree on the south bank. Soon an adult flew the length of the creek, with a raucous exchange, that continued as they both headed further into the woods.
A bit later, what looked like an adult, or a more mature juvenile (they take about four years to gain their full adult coloration), swooped out of the northern side, down to the water–maybe we’d see him get a fish! But instead he landed at the waters edge of a small rocky point. We watched as he dipped and drank from the lake, and stood there still, looking to each side. Ben stood by with the camera, looking for a good shot of him taking flight.
Suddenly, the flash of another, swooping in toward the first. Wham! A whirlwind of water, feathers, beaks and talons accompanied by shrieks…
Chantale even shouted “Stop it!”, and went below – she couldn’t bear to watch.
They continued to thrash for several minutes, well past when it seemed that one would yield, and a victor be declared. Then they lay, entangled and spent, on the rocky edge of the water, on the slimy rocks; they were completely still, beaks open and silent, for a full twenty minutes.
Another 30-second thrashing, talons intertwined, wings beating the other. Another half hour, motionless. ‘Do you yield?’ ‘Never’
And again, back into the water, neither releasing the other, seemingly intent on twisting his opponent under the water, wings beating the other’s head. Again they lay in the water, bedraggled, their feathers picking up the algae stains from the rocks. At least it offered some respite from the brutal 95 degree heat, to be soaking wet.
Then I noticed above, buzzards beginning to circle – first a couple, then a total of seven; interested perhaps, in whether this fight was truly to the death. Then an eighth, but with the bright white head and tail of a mature adult eagle, came to circle the pair on the ground, and as he circled and rose, the buzzards went higher and higher, and eventually went looking elsewhere.
The pair alternated between laying inert, staring at each other, for long stretches, and then mightily thrashing, neither relenting his grasp on the other.
What was it about? Did one think the other had something he wanted? Was one an outsider, and the other defending his territory? For a mate? Sibling rivalry? Young male challenging an elder?
Apparently it was something worth dying for; as the standoff continued into its second hour, the buzzards returned, only to be escorted away once again by the adult eagle, who must have been surveying the scene from a perch high in the trees.
Finally, after more than two hours from the initial assault, the two birds separated. One splashed around in the water, raised and shook his wings a few times to dry, and within 10 minutes, took off to the other side of the cove.
The second combatant had hopped up into the woods, and later could be seen stretching his wings, but as the sun set, he stayed in place, watching as an adult and baby raccoon came to prowl the water’s edge. We didn’t see him the next morning – we hope that he was able to return to flight.
It’s easy to project a calm but fierce nobility onto our national symbol. However, it was downright unpleasant to watch two proud specimens go at it in such an ugly fashion, talons into the other, neither relenting, or backing off to settle their difference in more civilized fashion. This is real life, I guess.
