E9
On December 31, 2016, an eaglet called E9 broke through his shell and became an international sensation, especially for those of us in Florida who watched him as he grew into a young eagle in his nest in North Fort Myers. E9 accidentally fledged on 3/17 when he fell from the nest after testing his wings. I call E9 a "he" but there is no way to tell the sex of an eaglet unless it is captured and blood is drawn, which is how those watching two eaglets in Washington, D.C. found out that the one who caught its leg caught in the branches of the nest and was rescued (and returned to the nest after it was deemed okay) was a girl.
E9 is now nine months old. I watched him almost daily since his third day of life until he left the nest for good in May. His nest was (is) situated on land owned by Dick Pritchett Real Estate. The Pritchett family installed a camera on the tree trunk above the nest, one in a tree that looked directly at the nest tree, and one farther back in the property that showed the nest tree, the pond, and the pasture with horses. I think about E9 often and wonder how he is doing. The first year of a juvenile eagle's life is difficult and fraught with danger; the majority don't make it to adulthood. Young eagles are often killed by cars as they try to eat road kill. Oh, the irony.
And then there's Hurricane Irma that landed in Naples, not too far from Fort Myers. Did E9 survive that storm? Did his parents, Harriet and M15? I know that I will never see E9 again and, even if I did, how would I know that it was him? Florida doesn't band or track wild eagles. If E9 survives into adulthood, he will grow his white head feathers when he is five years old; until then, he will look like a vulture if a person doesn't really take in all the details of his body, head, and wings.
I loved watching him grow up -- from an awkward, stumbling baby with a fuzzy white head to the strong and mighty juvenile who flew away into the wilds of North Fort Myers. I guess any parent can say the same thing about their child. But there was something really special about watching a wild being as it grew through all the important baby stages, and even more special because this baby lived in Florida just a few hundred miles south of me. It was like E9 belonged to me and all the other people, whether online (like me) or in person, who loved, fretted over, and prayed for this eaglet to live (unlike his sibling who never hatched).
E9 is now nine months old. I watched him almost daily since his third day of life until he left the nest for good in May. His nest was (is) situated on land owned by Dick Pritchett Real Estate. The Pritchett family installed a camera on the tree trunk above the nest, one in a tree that looked directly at the nest tree, and one farther back in the property that showed the nest tree, the pond, and the pasture with horses. I think about E9 often and wonder how he is doing. The first year of a juvenile eagle's life is difficult and fraught with danger; the majority don't make it to adulthood. Young eagles are often killed by cars as they try to eat road kill. Oh, the irony.
And then there's Hurricane Irma that landed in Naples, not too far from Fort Myers. Did E9 survive that storm? Did his parents, Harriet and M15? I know that I will never see E9 again and, even if I did, how would I know that it was him? Florida doesn't band or track wild eagles. If E9 survives into adulthood, he will grow his white head feathers when he is five years old; until then, he will look like a vulture if a person doesn't really take in all the details of his body, head, and wings.
I loved watching him grow up -- from an awkward, stumbling baby with a fuzzy white head to the strong and mighty juvenile who flew away into the wilds of North Fort Myers. I guess any parent can say the same thing about their child. But there was something really special about watching a wild being as it grew through all the important baby stages, and even more special because this baby lived in Florida just a few hundred miles south of me. It was like E9 belonged to me and all the other people, whether online (like me) or in person, who loved, fretted over, and prayed for this eaglet to live (unlike his sibling who never hatched).
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