Ah, Mothers...

Last week I received an e-mail from one of my favorite nature photographers, Carol Bryant, over in Redmond. She attached the photo you see in this piece and the following comment about the meticulous, fussy nature of just about every female that lives on this beautiful old Planet Earth.

"I watched this industrious little guy for quite awhile (as) he carried out the instructions of his mate who was quite vocal with her orders from inside the nesting box. Apparently, she's somewhat of a princess and wasn't too pleased with some of the mattress materials he was bringing her. So, he hauled some of it back out of the box and brought her goose down instead. As you can see, he's perched at the entry, waiting for her approval. Yes, it's true. It's awfully tough to please a woman!"

Guys could never get it right without help from females of the species.

Years ago, while conducting a bald eagle survey near Astoria, I received a call from a wonderful old couple who lived on a dairy farm near Svensen.

"If you want to see bald eagles," the dairy farmer said, "come on down and sit in our kitchen; we have an eagle building a nest right next door.'"

Sure enough, when I sat in the kitchen looking out the window at the old-growth Doug fir forest adjoining the farm, there - just as they said - was a pair of bald eagles building a nest.

As we sat drinking coffee and watching the eagles, the male swept into a huge fir nearby and repeatedly tried to break off a green limb. Again and again he flew up above the branch and crashed onto it but to no avail. All the time he was attempting to break off the limb, the female was standing on the edge of the nest chirping at him continuously - either cheering him on or telling him he didn't know what he was doing.

After at least 10 minutes of what must have been frustrating failure for the male eagle, the female flew off the nest and, with a different tone to her chirping, mounted up about 100 feet above the tree.

She plummeted toward the steadfast limb like a rocket.

When she hit it, the resounding "Crack!" was probably audible all the way to Astoria. Limb and eagle tumbled out into clear air, and the eagle opened her wings. With a majesty that only bald eagles possess, she flew back to the nest with what must have been all of six feet of limb trailing behind her.

Then, the fun started. She pulled the limb onto the nest and began poking it into the structure. It took her at least a full 10 minutes to get it tucked in, after which she hopped up on the nest, looked it over and then hopped down and promptly pulled it out.

This went on for at least 30 minutes, while the male sat close by on another tree watching. Suddenly, the female pulled the limb out, began what I would interpret as "muttering," a soft chirping that built up in pitch and intensity - and let the limb drop to the ground.

Whatever it was she was saying, it was clearly some kind of signal to the male, as he took to the wing immediately. And unless I was wrong, I think he went out looking for another piece of nesting material for their happy home.

I've seen golden eagle mothers fuss around to insure they have functioning homes. I have watched osprey, red-tailed hawks, bluebirds and robins do it. Mice do it. My wife does it, and if you try to tell me your wife doesn't do it, you've missed the boat.