Eagles, eagles, everywhere

Eagles have been a love of my life from the time I arrived in Oregon - where I discovered them being killed from 1080 poison put out by government trappers killing coyotes back in the early '50s. Eagles are still with me today as Sue and I help to conduct a statewide survey with the Oregon Eagle Foundation.

Like all birders who have a special bird they enjoy and see all the time in their subconscious, I too see the shape and movement of eagles automatically; while driving down the road, canoeing on a lake or hiking-the shape and movements of eagles are always there.

A trip to Minnesota last week awakened those senses more than once. I met my son Reuben at the MSL airport and we had a Uber van drive us to a little town just west of the airport. We picked up a four-wheel pop-up camper and headed for his home in Brainerd, Minnesota.

Bright and early the next morning, I headed west. At the crossing of the Mississippi River, I met my first eagle. First, I saw the name of the river on the roadside sign, the bridge ahead, and suddenly right above it a huge, beautiful, female bald eagle coming toward me abut 20 feet above the bridge. "Wow!" I thought, "What a wonderful way to start the trip!"

And that was the beginning of meeting up with eagles as I headed west. The adult male bald eagle I saw while crossing the Missouri River in Montana appeared on my right and went right over the rig while I was in the middle of the bridge.

Sprinkled among the eagles on other nearby waterways were osprey of all ages, inland gulls, a white pelican or two and over the fields, a few migrating Swainson hawks headed south, which added even more to the trip.

The Toyota developed a serious overheating problem as we approached Billings, Montana, and I had to depart the freeway. I took the first exit immediately, and lo and behold there was a firehall with two guys working on some equipment out in the yard. When I pulled up they immediately checked me to be sure I was OK, then they saw my engine problem.

While waiting for everything to cool down, I checked for external leaks and found everything tight as it should be, and when all was cooled off the fireman gave me water to recharge everything and I drove into Billings to spend the night.

There were no water puddles under the rig in the morning, so I fired it up and got onto the freeway again, heading west. About 40 miles east of Billings the temperature gauge began climbing, and by the time I arrived at the exit to the little town of Columbus I had to make a choice.

I chose to go back to Billings, as Columbus didn't look as though it would have a shop that would solve my problem. I took the exit and when traffic allowed I took the left turn under the freeway and was about to turn left back onto the freeway, when out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw an eagle - and as a result, missed the turn back onto the freeway.

Honest!

Having no other choice but to continue into Columbus I began looking for a shop. That little adventure tuned out to be even more fun when the mechanic discovered the water-pump belt (which could only be observed from under the vehicle) was nothing but black pieces of spaghetti.

A fix at a reasonable price later, I was rolling back onto the freeway.

The many crossings of the Clark Fork in Montana were also eagle moments. The first time I crossed it - now that eagle sightings were in my subconscious -things were different, I actually slowed down expecting an eagle to appear.

As I approached the east end of the bridge there it was, another adult baldy coming at me like a F-16, as though someone had said to it, "Hey! Get going! Jim's almost at the west end of the bridge!"

When I crossed the Clark Fork the last time I saw two more adult bald eagles, but when I crossed the Coeur d'Alene River, no one was there to cheer me on.

I stopped at the Lake Coeur d'Alene overlook to enjoy the scenic view of that enormous inland lake: a leftover from the magnificent Bretz Floods, named for J. Harlen Bretz, an American geologist best known for his persistence that led to the acceptance of the Missoula Floods carving out the Columbia Gorge.

Yes, I looked for eagles, but had to be content with spotting eight osprey, four adults and four juveniles, all preparing to get underway for wintering in Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Costa Rico and other points south.

Crossing the Columbia into Oregon netted me one more immature baldy, but from then on to Sisters I had to be content with a golden soaring over the pillow lavas of Cow Canyon on Highway 97 north of Madras.

Oh, and while we're on the subject of eagles: For all of September the Friends of the Sisters Library Art Committee will have an exhibit of local artists' and photographers' raptor art on display in the Sisters Library, and if we can find a way to schedule it, I'll be giving a raptor talk. Hope to see ya!