I’m not much of a rule breaker. I had an evil twin in my youth who skipped school from time to time, may have broken curfew on occasion, and who might have mastered the art of forging her parents’ signatures, but that twin is long gone. These days, thank goodness, I only have the one personality to deal with, and this Sarah is such a well-behaved, conformed member of society.
(Excuse me while I pause to take this phone call from my mother.)
Anyhow, as a rule abider, I try never to cross lines, go over the speed limit, or park illegally. Mom and Dad are so proud. Of course, I am human, and some days are more difficult than others…
For example, when I saw this eagle the other day, I spent four minutes trying to find a parking spot but couldn’t find even one. The only chance of parking would be by either parking illegally on the side of the road or by parking in the private lot of a hotel. As I drove up and down the road, I sighed in frustration. Why couldn’t I have been on my bike today? Why is there never any place to park on this island? Why do the police here seem to focus on traffic violations and not the bikers who cross the road wherever they like?
Just as my shoulders slumped in defeat and I accepted that I would not be getting a photo of the bald eagle, that evil twin mysteriously resurfaced and whispered in my ear…
“Park illegally, Sarah. It’s a Bald Eagle.”
“But I can’t park illegally. I am conformed!” I reminded her.
“But how many times have you seen a Bald Eagle up close?” she countered.
I thought about it. Maybe, she’s right. How rare of an opportunity is this?
“You’re wasting time, Sarah. The eagle could fly away at any second,” she coaxed.
Man, for someone who has kept quiet for so long, she sure is convincing…
“It’s not as if your mom and dad are going to ground you…You’re already thirty-”
“Okay, zip it, sister! I know how old I am! I give!”
I couldn’t take it any longer. I turned the car around and searched for the perfect illegal parking spot. Conformed rule breaker aside, I needed that eagle photo! My evil twin cheered me on, “That’s the spirit!” Thirty seconds later, I found the one…
My car successfully parked in an empty condo parking space, I told myself I was just borrowing the spot and made a mad dash for that tree with the eagle. It’s not the best photo in the world, but I sure won’t forget taking it any time soon.
If any of the rule checker uppers are paying attention, I would like to point out that I took that photo and was back in my car and on the road within three minutes…
Okay, maybe it was five. đ
While it was kind of fun to see my long-lost evil twin again, if only for a moment, I sure hope she goes back to her dormant state. After all, I have to be a good example for my children now and who knows what kind of road to destruction I could be on, borrowing parking spots and all…Like I said at the beginning of this post, I’m not much of a rule breaker. Well, not much anyway. đ
I donât know what it is about eagles, but whenever I see an American Bald Eagle, I lose the tiny fraction of sanity I am barely clinging to and act like a complete and total idiot. That ruse of cool, collectiveness I attempt so much to maintain washes off of me faster than you can say Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah, and I scream at the top of my lungs, âItâs a Bald Eagle!â Sometimes, it doesnât come off quite so poetically, as in the case Iâd love to tell you about. Now this happened over two months ago, but I remember it clearly. Allow me to set the sceneâŚ
Itâs a Sunday afternoon. My husband and our pirate children are hanging out in the living room while I attend to my chores. More specifically, I am folding laundry upstairs. No, I donât get paid for this service, despite my attempts, which explains why I am putting fifty percent of my efforts into folding the laundry neatly, (fine, kind of neatly,) and the other fifty percent of my energy into animal watching out of my bedroom window. Animal watching is an activity? Well, in Southwest Florida it isâŚWe live on alligator lagoon, so let me assure you the likelihood of spotting something that this native Hoosier would consider animal-like or wild is pretty good. So, I am sort of tackling one of my household duties, as my eyes periodically roam to the window.
Suddenly, I look up and out of the window again. As my eyes land on the bank across gator lagoon, my breath sucks in sharply. The shirt I am folding slips from my fingers, and I belt out my very natural and perfectly acceptable Midwesterner-transported-to-Southwest-Florida-response, âHOLY SHHHHH*******T!â
That little pest of an angel, who attempts to perch on my shoulder from time to time, whispers is my ear, âSarah, the little pirates definitely heard that…â Of course, she is correct, but I donât have time for lectures. Iâm already in my pajamas. (Sure, itâs only three p.m., but this is customary in case you havenât heard.) I flick the angel off of my shoulder and take off running. Being in pajamas means I need to find my shoes, my bra, my cameraâŚmy bra!!!
Where is my bra?Â
I think of what my sister would sayâŚ
You donât even need a bra, Sarah!Â
Sheâs right! Forget the bra. Grab zip up hoodie! I push my arms through the sleeves and take off for the steps.
I run, slide, half fall down the staircase and slam into my husband as I stumble off of the bottom step. He looks horrified, worry covering his face. âWhatâs wrong?â he blurts.
Wrong? He thinks something is wrong? The man doesnât know me at all. If there is danger, I scream danger. The two times there was a snake inside of our house, (yes, I said two,) I clearly yelled the word SNAKE at the top of my lungs. I dash past him and run for my office. I must find my camera. I hear him calling after me. I yell over my shoulder. âThere are THREE Bald Eagles outside right now! Iâve got to find my camera!â
The camera isnât in my office. Maybe, it is in the dining room.  As I whiz past my husband again, I catch the expression on his face, which indicates he does not find the situation sufficient reason to scream an obscenity at the top of my lungs.  I donât have time to chat about my inappropriate language. The man can take a number and get in line with that pesky angel! There are three Bald Eagles behind the house!
No sign of the camera in the dining room. I race to my office again, locate my trusty Adidas flip flops, but there is still no camera. I put the shoes on as I yell, âWHERE IS MY CAMERA?â As I race through the house again, I can hear Charles talking to me. âI think we need to have a conversation about when, exactly, you screaming something like that at the top of your lungs is appropriate.â
I ignore him and continue in circles, my eyes scanning the interior of our home. He continues as I dash past him and something in his voice changes, âUm, Sarah, not to alarm you further, but there are actually four Bald Eagles out there right now.â
Four Bald Eagles?!? My heart races to unchartered territory. Suddenly, it hits me. âMY CAMERA IS IN THE CAR!â I yell louder than necessary.
I dart past my pirate children, who I hear giggling in the excitement of their lunatic mother dashing through the house, into the garage and grab that camera. When I return from the garage, I run past my family and towards the patio door, going over my checklistâŚCamera, check. Shoes, check, (well, flip flops.) Bra, negative. But I have gone out into the wild wearing only a bath towel before, so this is substantially better. Once past the door, I am vaguely aware of the farewells coming from the little pirates, âBe careful, Mommy!â
As I trek through the overgrown foliage beside gator lagoon, I notice voices around me. Loud ones.  Not the mental ones or imaginary characters who keep me company and inspire my fiction novels. Real, actual human voices. How rare. I never hear people out hereâŚI can hear them talking about the eagles. They are making entirely too much noise as far as I am concerned, but there is no time to investigate the human intruders. I must get a photo of the eagles.
I barely make it in time. I step through a sticker bush on the way to the waterâs edge and see four Bald Eagles as I lift my camera. One flies away before I can get the photo. I silently curse out the people making all of the noise. (Silently, People, sue me.) But there are still three eagles on the bank. On the edge of gator lagoon, I snap as many photos as I can. I get a few shots, and then the Bald Eagles take off, one by one, returning to the sky.
Alone on the bank, I take a moment to smile victoriously. My foot is slightly irritated from the collection of burs I picked up on my adventure, I am wearing my pajamas, no bra, and my mysterious neighbors, who I have never even seen before, are suddenly outside. I figure today isnât the day we should meet and head back inside.
As soon as I open the door, Charles has that look on his faceâŚYou know the one. I figure it is time to own up to the error of my ways and apologize for my sailor mouth, but Iâll feign ignorance for the moment. âWhat is it?â I politely ask.
âAs soon as the door closed behind you, Audrey yelled, âHoly Sh*t, there are four Bald Eagles behind the house, Daddy!â
I bite my lip as I gage his level of irritation. I realize this is the part where I am supposed to feel terrible about the potty mouth my six-year-old has suddenly developed because of me, so I try my best to hide my smile. (No, I donât think itâs okay, but Iâm still riding high from my Bald Eagle experience. This was my first time to see more than two at once!)
âIâm really sorry,â I offer as I sit down and begin pulling stickers out of my ankles and socks. Audrey looks at me, and I try to look apologetic. âMommy shouldnât have said that word. Itâs a bad word, okay?â
Charles takes over and gently explains to the pirates about not repeating the S-word again.  I hear the lecture but itâs more of a muted sound, playing in the background. Iâm in a happy place. Charles looks back at me, and I happily proclaim, âThere were just four Bald Eagles out there!â Giving up on his reform-the-mother-of-his-children-lecture, he goes back to the computer, and the pirates go back to their quest to commandeer a ship in choppy seas.
Alone, staring out the window, I canât stop smiling.
I may not be the recipient of a parenting award any time soon. I might not win that award ever. So at the risk of irritating my mother, that pesky angel, and the father of my children once again, I must tell youâŚ
I got a photo of three American Bald EaglesâŚright behind my houseâŚand HOLY SUGAR it was cool!
You didnât really think I was going to curse again, did you? đ
Is it me, or is this eagle looking right at me? đ
This Bald Eagle didn’t seem to mind the noisy construction going on across the spring…The video is a bit shaky, but don’t be too hard on me…There are a few gators out there, boys and girls…and I was trying to multi-task. ( Multi-tasking in this particular case means watching the eagle and making sure no one tried to take a finger or anything…) đ
I’ve said it before, and let me say it again…My Friday nights have changed significantly since becoming a mother, and even more since moving to a wildlife refuge…Here are some new photos of an American Bald Eagle…(They fly over a lot, and this is only my second time to get photos of an adult Bald Eagle.) Take a look at who interrupted my ‘photo shoot,’ and then feel free to follow the link at the end to read the guest post on my other blog, “My Name is Sarah,” to see what the fly on my wall had to say about this particular evening… đ
American Bald Eagle
Someone decided to cut my photo shoot of the American Bald Eagle short…
Thanks for checking out my photos of the American Bald Eagle and my pal, the gator…I was happy to get a couple of photos of this particular Eagle and so glad to see another one behind our home. Check out the guest post by the fly on my wall here, My Name is Sarah… As always, thanks for stopping by! đ
I am asking for my bird peeps to help me out on this one…I have three photos of a juvenile eagle, and I wanted to say it was a juvenile Golden Eagle, but maybe it’s a juvenile Bald Eagle? Play the name game with me, and leave a comment. The fourth photo down is the real mystery for this writer with a camera. đ
Juvenile Eagle…Golden or Bald? Or am I even close? Help me out experts! đ
front view…
Okay, and switching birds but continuing with the name that bird…I took this photo of a _____ in the tree with a Pileated Woodpecker the other day, and it flew away before I could get another photo…Is it a juvenile hawk of some sort? I know that some of you have some ideas, and I’d love to hear them! đ
Pileated Woodpecker & ____?Now, this one I know is a Pileated Woodpecker. đ
Thanks for stopping by to play the name that bird game with me. I hope you’ll leave me a comment below, and I’ll be happy to reply to you…Especially, if you can help me out! đ Now, it’s back to that novel…There is a resistance movement in the year 2050 that needs my attention… đ
I was having one of those, ‘I’m-so-overwhelmed-by-my-list-of-things-to-do’ type moments, when I decided to go to my window and take a look out into the wild, (my back yard.) A rush of excitement had me running for my camera, and joy filled my heart. The man up above must have been reminding me of how blessed I really am. I’ve never in my life seen an American Bald Eagle. (Just photos.) Today, I saw a Bald Eagle…right behind my house. I am so thankful. I’ll likely be talking about this one for a minute. đ
Sarah's View from the Bottom 