That summer brought to me, from another wildlife facility, a large female Golden Eagle that was refusing to eat. She had been with them since March. Her wounds had healed, but she was captured with leather gloves and nets, being restrained and force fed twice a day because she would not take a bite of food on her own. Her weight was down terribly because they had tried starving her, hoping that she would eat out of desperation. She was given injections of "B" vitamins to stimulate her appetite. Sometimes, these things work. But not this time - she continued to fight what she thought were her oppressors.
She had become unusually aggressive, they said, attacking anyone who came into her personal holding cell. Her once beautiful flight feathers were broken and splintered from fending off her captors. She had lost all semblance of the noble Golden Eagle that was her true spirit. I was told that I was the last resort for this pathetic and bedraggled creature, she was that close to being put to sleep forever. I considered but one choice: her future freedom depended on being able to eat on her own. My job was to convince her that she was safe enough to quit fighting and start surviving. I had succeeded in the past. Would the Tamarac Sanctuary of Love and Life work its magic again to save this creatures's life? I began Reiki the moment I saw the big wooden box arrive.
I unpacked my new patient in the privacy of one of the holding cells. Lying on her back, tense as a steel spring on the bottom of her crate, the feet she presented looked too big for the bundle of ragged feathers behind them. There were scars and entire chunks of flesh missing from the soft cere above her beak. Clear fluid ran from her nostrils, while two dark hostile eyes flashed indignation at this latest insult.
"Mercy", I whispered softly to her. "One of the Furies has come to earth."
About the second time I went into the aviary, in my usual hot weather, 100 degree plus summer costume: not much with farm boots to add comedy to the ensemble, she was posing her usual threats to me. After the cheerfully noisy greeting from the Bald Eagles, I placed their luscious whole salmon before them and they went directly and joyfully to their ravenous feeding. There was no evidence that the newcomer had touched the food that I so optimistically left for her the evening before. I made Reiki symbols in the air over my beautiful prisoners, and then began to focus on the Golden Eagle huddled in a corner far from the squabbling Balds.
I was trying to communicate with her, to tell her how loved she was, and how safe it was to eat now that no-one would try to dishonor her by crushing her precious feathers, forcing her against her will. "Look!" I told her. "Space, blue skies, cedar trees, other birds. It is almost freedom." I took some of the raw deer meat and began to approach her on my hands and knees, sending Reiki love. She continued to "threaten" me; wings up and back, ready to roll back and plant those talons in my bare skin. I was acutely aware of the 200 pounds per square inch of bone-breaking strength in those toes. I continued to move towards her, maintaining my submissive posture, right hand closed and non-threatening. Offering her the life-saving food. Praying that she would take it and end her prison sentence. I was easily within her reach, in fact only inches away from the talons that can strike with the speed of a rattlesnake. I continued sending Reiki.
She made a few more sweeping threats with her beak, stopped, and slowly the great wings dropped to her side. She turned her head completely upside down and reached, almost gently, for the meat in my bare fingers. I put out my hand and touched the top of her head to feel her push slightly back against my palm. Slowly I got up out of the dirt and went to get more meat. She waited there, eyeing me suspiciously until I brought her a chunk of fresh venison. Placing it in front of her at my feet, I held my breath while she lifted one of her huge talons. She brought it down swiftly, surely, piercing the tough, hairy hide of the haunch of deer as easily as if it were a peanutbutter sandwich. She began to tear at it like the starved bird that she was.
The Golden Girl had no dietary problems from that day on. I did have to catch her up once, pulling out the broken feathers so that they might replace themselves more quickly. Eagles take up to two years to completely molt their feathers. We didn't have that kind of time. She needed to start replacing them now, since my plan was to have her in condition and ready to go for the end of the fall migration at the latest. However, this task was accomplished with no gloves, nets or equipment to alert and frighten her. It was done quickly, with apologies and pleas that she would understand that freedom now was imminent, arriving sooner for this procedure. She remained quietly in my arms as I knelt in the aviary with her after jerking the great feathers from her body, mouth open and panting until she was breathing normally. Then she just sat straight up, shook herself rigorously and without looking back at me began preening herself, an action that would help to stimulate the growth of the much needed new flight feathers. It was as if she knew what it was we were trying to accomplish. Perhaps she forgave me the primitive methods. It was my choice to not go the easy route and assault her system with injections of hormones. That would produce a slow, all-over molt. But not in time if she were going to join her Brothers Who Walk on the Wind for the fall flight. I was never satisfied that enough was known about the long term results of sending a breeding bird out into the wilds with a mega dose of hormones at the wrong time of the year. The old-fashioned way was a little more intrusive initially, but safer for the future generations, I thought. With this awesome girl back in the gene pool, the future for Golden Eagles was looking better all the time.
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