BALD EAGLES of the Columbia Basin - Season II

Once the eaglets left the nest their parents had no reason to stay either.
They would spend their nights roosting in the canopy of old trees.

Once the eaglets from Season I ventured on their own their parents also separated and the nest was left empty.

We had no idea how many of the three survived their first flight - the statistics give them just a tiny bit more than a 50:50 chance.
To those who survived we could only  wish luck and a successful first-winter survival; the toughest time in the eagle's life.






Winter in the interior of BC can be hard for the birds.

It is not exactly the bitter, blizzard-crowned-Prairie-cold that hits the southeastern parts of British Columbia each year. Tucked in the mountains and protected by the Rockies we usually experience a couple of months of heavy snowfalls that cover the country with a thick, white blanket of frozen powder. Skiers love this fairy tale weather, but the birds must be thinking otherwise.
Some, of course seek warmer climates, others tough-it-out resorting to a change of diets and behaviours.


The  fish-eating eagles of Southern Kootenay and Columbia Rivers, Bald Eagles, are no exception. Some of the young ones may take off and seek a new home  but as long as the waterways stay free of ice, the breeding pairs usually hang about  feeding on odd fish, hunting waterfowl and resorting to road, or other kill.
Each eagle on its own.

Lead from hunters' ammunition can seriously harm a scavenging eagle.
Lead poisoning is one of the leading causes of eagles' death.

It is not until after our, human, New Year that they start to pair up again.

We are lucky to have a tall poplar tree not far from where we live. It towers above Kootenay River and the eagles like to use it year round. Often we see one of them  perched on a branch but, for brief periods in February and March, we can spot both of them at the same time. That's when they renew their life-long relationship with spectacular flight displays. (Those unfortunately, eluded my camera so far.)

Our couple from Season I also got back together this year. We saw them several times together and when at the end of February they seemed to disappear we understood that
The Bald Eagle Season II was on its way.

In March the eagles returned to their old nest.

So did we, the naturalists, onlookers, well-wishers and photographers, the entire population of local people wishing "our" eagles a happy and prosperous new season. We were careful not to get too close resorting to all kinds of distance-conquering devices instead.

The nest was far enough and hidden enough for people not to disturb the nesting eagle pair.

       

The eagles wasted no time, the old nest had to be improved, refurbished ; they collected sticks and branches of respectable sizes, twigs, grasses and moss, building a skookum addition; large, safe and comfortable.
By the end of March they had their eggs laid in a deep depression a bit off centre of perimeter of the nest. It was a penthouse with a beautiful view indeed.

Columbia River 

They took turns incubating the eggs, taking turns in shifts that lasted several hours each. The larger female was much more stationary, she would simply settle down and not not move for ages. He, on the other hand, was a true multitasker - couldn't and wouldn't sit still.

Female Bald Eagle is larger than a male

When not on the nest they would hunt for food, collect additional material or, perched on a nearby pine, stood guard over their home; ready to attack anyone and anything that ventured too close to the nest.

Eagles and crows, ravens or large owls will take each other's chicks
whenever possible, a good recipe for an unhealthy relationship.

We, the humans frequenting the trail way above their tree, were too far and too predictable to make them worried.
They seemed to understand that there was a hiker's trail up there and that the people and dogs on it would leave them alone.

But add a crow or a raven invading their airspace and their attitude would change!





On a beautiful Spring day I decided to explore their territory from below. There was no trail, only a rough river shore from which a steep slope shot up straight towards the sky. Somewhere on it was the poplar hosting bald eagles' nest.

Columbia River by Castlegar, BC 

Columbia Lily, Lilium columbianum, is often called a Tiger Lily or Oregon Lily,

While incubating the eggs, the eagles spend most of the
time guarding the clutch. Squirrels or crows would be happy to
take an advantage of an unguarded nest.

Although quite large, the nest itself was VERY difficult to find. Such a huge undertaking and I was not really able to find it from below.

According to a local naturalist, it was three seasons ago when the eagles started to build this nest after the previous one fell off the tree and tumbled into the river.
Finally! A clearing in the canopy and there it was - a three-tiered structure - the layers that the eagles added each year were quite clearly defined.
It made me wonder: how do the eagles chose a tree to build a nest on?
It has to be branched - at least three strong branches should provide a base but do they have other criteria to go by?

This was the only opening that offered me a clean shot - everything else was obscured by branches. I was way-way below the tree base, some thirty meters or so.
The nesting eagle did not seem to mind my presence but as I was packing up, the other bird, the guardian, left its pine tree perch and made a threatening swoop in my direction.

The message was clear. The hiking trail above was OK to be on.
The river bank and the slope reaching up to it - a definite NO!
Point taken, I packed up and left them alone.

Their first chick was born towards the end of April and soon after another one followed. 

We, the trail creatures, were allowed to watch with amazement how tenderly the eagles  fed the chicks, how carefully they walked about their nest - their talons tucked into a "fist" in order not to accidentally hurt the baby.

The eaglets grew at an amazing speed and soon they were able to hobble about the nest. To our human eyes they looked anything but majestic - more like the ugly ducklings of the famous fairytale. We loved them regardless.

By mid-May, at about three weeks old, they were still quite disproportionate. Their parents still fed them meat (mostly fish but also a marmot as seen in the photo). They would tear off a piece, work it over and GENTLY offered it to the eaglets. They fed one eaglet at a time. 

The male had great patience and skill and we started to call him Super-Dad.

The eaglets are still covered in their down which keeps them warm. Their real flight feathers are starting to "sprout".

"Change of the Guard" - the female (large with a larger beak) just arrived to the nest and the eagles are exchanging some kind of information. Their voices are surprisingly "high and weak",  they lack vocal chords and the sound is made deep inside their throats. It seemed to us that they had a certain vocabulary to keep each other well informed.

It was a cold spring during the Season II. 

End of May brought heavy rains and water in Columbia River (and elsewhere) started to rise. 

A friend visiting the area on June 5th reported that "the eagles seemed unsettled". 

The day after, on the 6th of June, another friend came back with: "I could not find the nest!"

The entire human community was alarmed. Surely enough - closer inspection confirmed the worst: the tree came crashing down, taking the nest and the young eaglets with it. 

Base of the the poplar tree was rotten and the midnight wind needed just a bit of strength to topple it.
The birds must have felt its unsteadiness the day before - that's why they were so nervous

The nest hit the trees below and was smashed to bits. We found the dead chicks  some twenty meters below this site.
Their flight feathers just started to show.

The eagle parents stayed around for awhile as if they too needed to come to terms with their loss.

Soon after they separated to spend the summer on their own leaving us to wonder:.

Will they ever build another nest here, on Columbia River again? 

Only Time will tell