Birds of Prey
One of the great things about this trip has been seeing wildlife that I've only otherwise seen in zoos. In particular, I've crossed paths with a lot of large birds. Sadly, they haven't often presented themselves for photographs, nor does the iPhone's fisheye lens well serve the subject, so you'll have to make do with my paltry words, which of necessity must include such cliched hyperbole as huge, enormous, gigantic, and holy shit.
I've routinely passed deer carcasses on the roadside, but on day 14 out of Ione, I startled several scavengers off of one. The flurry of feathers included several ravens, which are shaggier and twice the size of their urban cousins, the crow. Last to flee the scene was a turkey buzzard, which glared balefully at me before circling lazily to a perch in the treetops.
Srsly. There's a vulture up there.
Later in the same day, I passed by a utility pole atop which clung a five foot wide nest of woven brambles. Out of the nest there peeked three downy gray eaglets, chirping down at me.
Peep peep, dude. Now gimme a fuckin' cracker.
Days later, while following the Flathead River out of Paradise, Montana, I stopped for a dip in the river. I'd just parked my bike, changed my shoes, and walked down to the river's edge, when I looked to my right and there, not 30 feet from me, was a golden eagle the size and color of a chocolate lab. It was bent over something on the ground, but soon turned and saw me as well. For a moment I thought to run back to my bike for my camera; the idea passed just as quickly. The eagle and I stood still, contemplating each other. With not a trace of hurry, it raised its wings and hopped toward the water. It caught a low draft over the river's surface, then swiveled its wings slightly for a quick turn into an updraft, which carried it up and into the trees standing over the water's edge, where it disapeared.
That same evening, while preparing to bunk down beside a picnic table in Dixon, Montana, I heard a scrabbling noise in the tree behind me, and looked up to see what I believe was a barn owl glide silently by, and take up residence on a nearby fencepost.
Oh, and let me not forget the family of wild turkeys I saw grousing along the rode out of Colville, Washington, which quickly fled from me into the brush. I may or may not have seen turkeys in the zoo, but I've certainly seen enough of them on the dinner plate.
I've routinely passed deer carcasses on the roadside, but on day 14 out of Ione, I startled several scavengers off of one. The flurry of feathers included several ravens, which are shaggier and twice the size of their urban cousins, the crow. Last to flee the scene was a turkey buzzard, which glared balefully at me before circling lazily to a perch in the treetops.
Srsly. There's a vulture up there.
Later in the same day, I passed by a utility pole atop which clung a five foot wide nest of woven brambles. Out of the nest there peeked three downy gray eaglets, chirping down at me.
Peep peep, dude. Now gimme a fuckin' cracker.
Days later, while following the Flathead River out of Paradise, Montana, I stopped for a dip in the river. I'd just parked my bike, changed my shoes, and walked down to the river's edge, when I looked to my right and there, not 30 feet from me, was a golden eagle the size and color of a chocolate lab. It was bent over something on the ground, but soon turned and saw me as well. For a moment I thought to run back to my bike for my camera; the idea passed just as quickly. The eagle and I stood still, contemplating each other. With not a trace of hurry, it raised its wings and hopped toward the water. It caught a low draft over the river's surface, then swiveled its wings slightly for a quick turn into an updraft, which carried it up and into the trees standing over the water's edge, where it disapeared.
That same evening, while preparing to bunk down beside a picnic table in Dixon, Montana, I heard a scrabbling noise in the tree behind me, and looked up to see what I believe was a barn owl glide silently by, and take up residence on a nearby fencepost.
Oh, and let me not forget the family of wild turkeys I saw grousing along the rode out of Colville, Washington, which quickly fled from me into the brush. I may or may not have seen turkeys in the zoo, but I've certainly seen enough of them on the dinner plate.
posted by Ivan at
7:04 PM
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