The weeks went by and soon we were excercising; first within the confines of the 80' aviary, quickly graduating to a long creance out on the Millville Plains. Daily she gained in strength and weight as her withered breast and spindly thighs became bulky with muscle. The new and flawless feathers, still fragile in their blood sheaths, grew in dark and shining among the older, lighter ones. Finally, she was flying with such joyful ease that I could no longer challenge her endurance. This formidable bird was good to go.
After seven months as a hostage, one of the Creator's most beautiful gifts made her flight to freedom on a cool October morning on Peterson Mountain. I had driven up the nght before and set up a little tent. I smudged with sage, then placed her wooden traveling box on the slope facing north, removing the barred door in the dark. Early in the morning, before first light, I took my binoculars and scooted under the truck with my sleeping bag and waited. I did the Reiki symbols over the canyon in the dark. I prayed for a gentle introduction back to her beloved skies. I prayed for her survival in a dangerous world of high powered guns and speeding trucks.
With the dim light of dawn, I could see that she had stepped out of the box in her new magnificence and stood quietly surveying the canyon. Above and below. Right and left. It was forever that she stayed there, looking around, preening her now perfect feathers, and, it seemed, not at all interested in leaving when she stretched first one wing forward and the oposite leg back, then the other wing and leg, opening and closing her great talons with each stretch. She extended a bright yellow talon to the air in front of her, instantly snapping it back. The mighty bird, now huge and hard with muscle, shifted her weight, flapped twice and suddenly she was suspended over the canyon in the clear morning sky.
Turning east, she made a large arc towards the north. I was adjusting my binoculars when I heard her scream, but it seemed so far away. I had her in the lenses when I heard the distant cry again, but the beak had never opened. Could I have missed it, I wondered as I followed her in flight to the north, turning now to the west to come around to the east again? She came across the face of the mountain about thirty feet in front of me heading due east when her beak opened and and the ear-splitting scream shot out over the canyon only to be answered from somewhere in the distance. The binoculars landed in a puff of dust as I repositioned to try to get a broader view and then saw the second bird soaring high and above us.
As the golden girl gained altitude, the other eagle appeared to hover over the canyon, cutting slow circles and almost disappearing into the northwest before floating around again. They continued to call to each other, the Tamarac bird's voice sounding loud but more distant with every course. At the north side of the canyon their circles would cross in the air, one great eagle above the other until they rode the currents so closely I thought that their wings would touch. I watched, breathless, sending Reiki to the birds, to the canyon, to the morning sun just now breaking over Peterson Mountain.
Then, the first bird peeled off out of the arc shooting straight as an arrow to the east. There was a slight pause before the second bird joined him on the straightaway. I watched until they disappeared into the blinding light of the risen sun. She was gone! I felt elated and empty at the same time.
I said my thank yous, fighting tears while gathering up equipment and emergency medical supplies. Swallowing back a lump in my throat, my eyes fell on a Raven feather that I had overlooked while setting up the release box in the dark just hours before. I stooped to pick it up, and what I found there made me gasp: a large, square smokey quartz crystal, with faces nearly an inch wide, about two and a half inches long. It was so clear it looked like tinted water. Bless you, Raven, I whispered to the now empty sky.
A good trade, I thought as I began the long drive back to Tamarac. Heaven has her eagle child in her arms again, and I have a piece of the pre-dawn sky to commemorate our love.
|
