March 26th, 2008

writing dust rengeek shakespeare

and he wonders am i still a free bird, or just a part of the machine?

On the way to the climbing gym tonight, I saw an enormous bird circling over the Connecticut River. It wasn't a red-tailed hawk or a turkey vulture, our two common large raptors. It was larger than the first, and didn't fly with a rowing motion, nor did it sail on stiff wings held like as shallow V, like the second. It was dark in color, and its wingbeats were dexterous, grasping, like the graceful beckoning of fingers.

I think it was a juvenile bald eagle.