Bald Eagle

One of the things about Parowan that is very different from Escalante is that it is near an interstate highway—I-15. (Interstates are interesting things to me—urban bubbles or tunnels passing noisily through the quiet, rural west.) When we moved here last winter, I drove repeatedly up and down the Parowan Valley, using the freeway. During these drives, I began to notice, often perched in the crosstrees of an abandoned series of power poles, a bald eagle.

When I was a kid, bald eagles were rare outside of Alaska. During the middle of the 20th century, population estimates in the lower 48 states were as low as 400 nesting pairs. And, sure enough, I don’t remember ever seeing one alive and in the wild. Under the protection of the Endangered Species Act starting in the late 1960s and early 1970s, however, bald eagle populations began to recover, and today I no longer think that it is unusual to see one . . . even along the highway.

Because eagles are carrion eaters, and because it is common for deer to be killed on the interstate, the eagle that I saw each day last winter was likely feasting on road kill. My only concern was that he—for it was a male—would be hit and killed himself. The eagle disappeared after a while and, though I glanced along the roadside a few times on the off chance of seeing it’s body, I wasn’t really sure where it had gone. Spring came, and then summer, and I mostly forgot about bald eagles.

I was on my way out of the house this morning to run a couple of errands. I was late for my appointment, and it was a cold, grey winter morning holding the threat of snow. I had my head down with frustration and was on my way straight to the door of my car with the sound of I-15 in the distance. I glanced up as I opened the door, and my eye caught the familiar “V” shape of a large bird in flight overhead. With a fleeting thought of, “raven,” I dropped my head. But, somewhere in my subconscious, something said, “not raven.” Involuntarily, I lifted my head. It was a bald eagle. It flew silently toward me, passed above the car, and went on towards town—a soft wishing sound fell from the back of its wings. I laughed aloud. “Welcome back,” I said.