Heather Conn Blogs

             My husband likes to watch – bald eagles, that is. Every day, he has a telescope trained on the white-capped couple who live in the penthouse — a large nest of uneven sticks — in a Douglas fir across the street in Roberts Creek. Before moving to Canada’s west coast from the eastern U.S., he had never even seen a bald eagle. He’s enthralled by every screech and movement they make and always tries to get me to come to the telescope to watch them.

            Sometimes I do, but most of the time, I’m thinking: I’ve seen bald eagles for over thirty years. I’ve seen a pair join talons in the sky. I’ve seen one dive for a salmon and fly off. I’ve seen dozens of bald eagles of all ages in Brackendale, BC. While sleeping near the sea, I’ve been shaken awake by one when it landed on the tree that supported my hammock. I love hearing them cry and squeak and watching them soar while I’m working at my desk, but mostly, I’ve been a bit jaded when it comes to bald eagles.

            Until last week. My husband urged me, more emphatically than usual, to look through the scope. I did, and this time, saw a small fuzzy head rise slightly above the top of the nest. A baby! I felt like an auntie. My husband christened the youngster Chester. Today, my hubby made another discovery – Chester has a sibling. Hester. We’re thrilled. Who needs a 24-hour eaglecam? We’ve got our own vicarious family in the ‘hood.