WRITER'S NOTE: THIS IS NOT THE ULTIMATE EAGLE SHOT THAT I WANTED, BUT AN ILLUSTRATION OF WHAT I WANTED.
THIS SNIPPET OF WRITING IS BUT A PART OF SOMETHING LARGER THAT I AM WORKING ON - A MOMENT IN A DAY OF SHOOTING THE EAGLES.
I scanned the lake for spirals of ripples upon its smooth surface and noticed one not far from the shore, along the path of the late afternoon sun. In the center was what looked like a small white feather but was actually the dorsal fin of a kokanee salmon.
The hundred plus eagles that had taken up temporary residence at Higgins Point on Lake Coeur d'Alene in the Idaho town of the same name, were hungry and snatching the fish as they surfaced. My goal of getting the perfect Bald Eagle shot ever present in my obsessive brain, rushed me closer to the water's edge and I noticed that another of the fresh water spawning salmon was surfacing away from the direct sunlight. With my Nikon ready, I positioned myself between the two dying fish and waited for a bird to dance briefly on the water's surface as its back talons pierced into flesh and the front ones wrapped around the slippery body.
At the beginning of November, local photographers begin to salivate over the arrival of eagles that generally hit town any time between Thanksgiving and mid-December. Lenses are cleaned, computer hard drives are emptied to make room for the thousands of pics that each one of us will take and scouts drive the seven miles to the end of the lake, hoping to get the first shot of America's favorite icon.
During their stay, the eagles will attract thousands of locals, tourists and school children. The majestic raptors, with their white hoods and bright yellow beaks, are a bright spot on what could be a long cold, grey and snowy winter in North Idaho. Small point and shoot, cell phone, Canon, Nikon and Sony cameras all aimed in the direction of a bird, each operator hoping for the ultimate photo.
On this particular day, not many photographers were out and I had spaces of time to myself, during which I watched, listened, anticipated, fretted and shot. My focus was on capturing an eagle dancing upon the water with wings overhead and toes barely making a ripple, along with the bird's perfect reflection on the lake. I saw little else around me and for a moment, out on the point between the two fish, it was just myself, watching and waiting.
I watched each fish and the sky all at once, acutely aware of the shadows overhead and reflections passing on the lake. A rock whizzed by my left ear and splashed into the water. Startled, I turned and yelled, "watch out!"
I heard a father yelling at his son. "Watch where you are throwing that."
"What are you talking about," said the youthful voice.
"You almost hit that woman."
Get him dad, kick his butt, I thought. The rock had come from the parking lot above and I couldn't even see who threw it. Kids throwing rocks, particularly at the eagles, and screaming and yelling as they tore around Higgins Point were getting under my skin. I tried to remember being a kid growing up in the area and realized that while my parents taught me an appreciation for nature, no one ever taught me how to behave around wild animals. This didn't help much and it was hard to empathize with anything that got between my shots and me.
