Great Outdoors: Bald eagle sighting worth the odds

4:09 AM, May. 14, 2011

The more you go out there, the more you will see. It's a matter of playing the odds. The odds of encountering a bald eagle at 50 feet? Not so good, if you go out one time. If you go out 1,000, or 10,000 maybe, at least you just might get a shot.

I'm in that 10,000 group to be sure. And by sheer repetition, I'd actually seen a bald eagle that close on one occasion before getting lucky again late last week.

The first up-close sighting took place in a kayak, when I floated near the riverbank underneath a low-hanging tree branch. Oblivious to the fact a bald eagle perched on it, I practically capsized when the eagle took off right above me.

Fast forward three years to a fine sunny morning this May. I am walking a path 50 yards from the banks of the Chenango, a river I love. I'm not thinking bald eagles. I'm not thinking at all. I am sniffing the air. I am seeking wildflowers. I am listening for vireos singing their spring breeding songs.

A wetland pool by the trail also gets my attention. I scan fallen logs jutting out of the water, hoping turtles have clambered up on them to bask in the sun. I've also seen wood ducks here. I've seen herons and plenty of frogs.

So much to sense and drink in on this morning. Not much room for a thought of bald eagles. But wait. What is that, 40 yards up the trail, in a spruce at the edge of the wetland? Reflecting the sun, like a brand new softball, a disc of bright white offsets deep green spruce needles, on a branch 15 feet up the tree.

It cannot be, can it? It most certainly can — that softball is a bald eagle's head. Viewed through binoculars, it looks wet from a recent downpour. But the sun blazes down. Not a raindrop in sight. Has the eagle just dived for a fish or a duck in the pool?

That question, once posed, swirls around me like thick river fog. "Perhaps," is the answer, but whatever took place several minutes before takes a back seat to what happens now. I can't turn around. I must walk toward the eagle if I want to return to my car. And the eagle will fly when I take my first steps. They don't let people walk up to see them.

So much for what usually happens. Next thing I know, I am standing directly across the small pool from the eagle. Thirty yards away, the snoozing bird barely can keep its eyes open. I watch while that white head, magnified through field glasses, morphs from a softball to beach ball in size.

Last year in New York, 173 breeding pairs of bald eagles produced 244 young. A fair number of those birds fledged here in Central New York. Take a walk by a river, a wetland, a lake. The odds just might be in your favor.

Marsi is a freelance writer from Vestal. E-mail him at rmarsi@stny.rr.com

http://www.stargazette.com/article/20110515/LIFE12/105150311/Great-Outdoors-Bald-eagle-sighting-worth-odds?odyssey=nav|head