When you live in a city you tend to become anesthetized to your surroundings quicker than you would be if you lived somewhere like Wyoming or North Dakota. These places have tornadoes, blizzards, and the all-too-probable threat of getting curb stomped by a moose at any given moment. Life is more colorful, unpredictable. Settling in an urban area means embracing the illusion that man has triumphed over nature. Cities plan the “the wild” in the same way they plan new skyscrapers and another horrifying Dave and Buster’s fun-emporium that no one asked for.
Parks, public gardens, and scenic river walks are the designated places TO NATURE IN! READ THE SIGNS, PALS! BEHAVE ACCORDINGLY SQUIRRELS AND RACCOONS! Fortunately, wildlife has always had the drop on us and they are having none of this malarky. They will show up anywhere they damn well please.
Take, for instance, the wild turkeys that roam our neighborhood. These bastards are 5-am-too-damn-loud. They strut around in the middle of the streets as if they’re the Jets from West Side Story. This is Hitchcock’s nightmare fully realized: an actual gang of birds. Sometimes when I would go out to my car in the morning I would find them loitering in the driveway, defiant, impervious to the fact that I need to go somewhere. I’d end up waiting them out because what was the alternative? Mow them down and become forever marked as public wild turkey enemy number one? I know how that movie ends. No thanks. Meanwhile, they would just stare as if to say, “Get off my lawn, creep.” Fair enough. They were here first. We are just squatters with 401ks.
I’ve also encountered coyotes around the city. That one really gave me pause. The first few times I saw them I thought they were some kind of designer-type breed of miniature German Shepherd. Where’s your person? I thought as I saw one lazing in the brush beside a nearby river. Then I realized what it was. “Person/brunch, potato/potahhto,” I imagined the reply.
Still, I applaud and fully support all claims wildlife make to our overdeveloped world. Look around at the endless wars, ongoing poverty, and systemic racism; we are not good project managers. If the Jurassic Park movie franchise has taught us anything, it’s that our time on this earth is way past due and not even Jeff Goldblum’s quirky charm can save us. An elephant uprising? A penguin coup? I’m ready. Besides, without any opposable thumbs, they are going to need writers in the new world order. Who’s gig is totally impractical now, career counselor?
***
I saw the wings before I saw the rest of the bird. They were roughly the same span as a 1978 Buick. A bald eagle glided down from a tree thirty feet in front of me on the trail. It’s a route I walk a few times during the week. The trail runs alongside a lake that stretches between two towns. Its buffered by a busy stretch of road that skirts by residential neighborhoods and the commuter rail line. The eagle arced down low to the street, almost level with the passenger side of a car coming down the road, before pulling up and lighting in a scruffy pine tree on the other side of the road.
It was pretty early in the morning. I walked ahead to stand across from the tree where I saw her land. She had lighted on a tree branch about twenty feet up next to another eagle. One bird was astonishing enough, a pair felt miraculous. There was no one else in sight. Is this a dream? I thought. Am I being incepted? Then I noticed a young guy standing back where I had come from. He had pulled his car into a small pull-off. He had his phone out, aimed at the tree. I waved. He gingerly padded over.
“I don’t know why I think I have to sort of sneak up on them,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s not like they’re skittish.”
“Right. They could chew your face right off if they felt like it,” I replied. I briefly played out that scenario, which involved it being his face and not mine. I’m not being petty; my face is quite negligible. Vogue is not handing out modeling contracts. But someone would have to survive to tell the story to Hoda and Jenna on Today, and I felt pretty sure I could do it more justice than this guy.
He explained that he was out here to fish when he had parked and noticed the eagle. We traded a few more remarks about the majesty of these birds, how lucky we were to be standing here, how amazing to have them in our own back yard-ish. I felt it was the appropriate level of stranger exchange—no names. After all, this was New England, not Nebraska. Here we are repressed and suspicious. Out there you could be filling up at a gas station, casually ask the person in the next car if they’re happy with what they’re driving, and two days later wind up at their cousin’s wedding. It’s a whole other planetary system west of Delaware. I put my earbuds back in demonstrating the universal sign for “this conversation is over,” wished him a good day, and continued on with the remainder of my loop.
By the time I came back to the tree there was a smattering of people milling and gawking. A guy on a bike slowed down on the street next to me. A car with two women in it swung into the pull-off, which was now full. Another guy stood a few feet from where I stopped. He was short and tanned and looked to be about fifty. His arms were covered in tattoos. He held up his phone, filming, a goofy smile spread across from his face. Closest to the edge of the street were two birders whom I’ve seen before. They both had serious cameras with even more significant telephoto lenses, the kind you could credibly use to diagnose someone’s cancerous mole from 500 feet away. Even a couple of people driving on the road slowed down risking the wrath of angry commuters behind them.
It was all a thing of beauty. Sure, the eagles, absolutely. Long may they remain, flourish, and build an immune system strong enough to withstand the chemicals that will flood their bodies when there is nothing left on earth to eat but our bloated corpses. But even more than the birds, it was the people gathering, united in awe and wonder by the spectacle of these stunning animals that we do not deserve. Some were likely on their way to work and said to themselves, “Screw it Danbury Realty Co.! The numbers report can wait! Nature calls!” And it’s nice to know that when it does, we can still show up and answer.