egg

thanks to the middle sister for the eagles: http://www.raptorresource.org/falcon_cams/index.html

the egg looks like one of those grayish white river stones, smoothed by the water but not at all soft. it looks heavy, looks like it would hurt if you tossed it at someone. it is difficult to see this last egg because the two small eagles crowded up with it are that same dirty-snow color and they are not still even for a minute. everything about them is focused on food. they are open beaks and squirming fuzz. the nest is massive and is littered with carcasses- a rabbit, mice, indecipherable small furry things and just this afternoon, a slick speckled fish.

it is the egg, though, that draws the eye. there are two absolutely shocking adult eagles hovering around and the two howling babies but this tiny egg has everyone in the nest riled up. the egg splits like an earthquake. the halves tear and there is movement in the space behind the jagged edges. there is something absolutely living in there. but crawling out of an egg takes a great deal of work and a big eagle settles down on the two bits of fluff and the egg and glares out at the world, daring anything but food to come near.

there is the sound of the road behind the nest and the songs of small birds. there is a horse somewhere. but then the nest is riled up again and when the grown bird stands up, the halves of the egg are pulled apart. there is something that looks like a wad of gum inside. there is a black thorn sticking out of the wad. the whole thing pulses, thumps from inside. it is almost too ugly to see. the image is blurred by a wing and then there are five eagles there in that nest. five. that is the most eagles you can put in a nest at once. the big wing moves and there are the two white heads nodding.

one flies off and the other begins to root around, rearranging, fluffing, settling things in at the soft middle of the nest. the rest of the nest keeps the food. there is room to put a deer up there if the birds could carry it. the fish lies on its back, tail snuggled up against a rabbit or woodchuck maybe. most of the black bird is gone except a few long tailfeathers. more fish stacked like logs and something tawny are piled at the edge. there are mice on the other side of the nest, too small to see.

the newest bird, a small disaster of a thing, faces the back of the nest while the other birds open beaks under their mother, waiting for food. it squirms around, flops across the nest, manages, somehow, to land under the oldest baby, nothing but beak sticking out. it looks so tired. the older baby's belly rests on its neck and it squeezes itself like toothpaste out from under. it is not as likely to survive as the others. it is not so loud and not so forceful and there is a chance the firstborn may murder it. but it does not stop moving. when the grown bird leans down and carefully holds a bit of the inside of a fish over the tiny bird's beak the small bird misses the food twice. there is no way to help. the grown bird offers another bit of fish and the tiny beak below it opens. the fish falls in.