The Perch...

Dawn approaches on a cold and wet, early spring morning. New snow has fallen in the nearby mountains. I can see the hint of fresh whiteness in the parting of the valley mists. As daylight comes I perch looking out over the river, looking to the east, looking to the new light of day. A bald eagle is also perched in what we call the 'eagle snag'. An old cottonwood with a dead, heavy branch protruding over the flowing of cold morning, quicksilver water. As light enters the valley the eagle watches intensely for the shadow of trout just below the dark water surface.

My perch is more comfortable then my neighbor eagle's. The fireplace crackles just behind me, radiant warmth taking the chill of night out of Riverhome. Hot, strong, coffee aroma wafts up from the ceramic cup tucked close to my chest. There is movement at the river. I note a whitetail doe leading seven others across the shallows from my side of the stream to the other. The deer walk cautiously thru the water. Wavelets break against their belly’s and last years fawn breaks rank and runs for the shore. Shaking itself like a dog and bucking like a tiny filly when it reaches the gravel bar. The does do not seem to mind. They continue to plod through the water. It is a daily routine.

The eagle appears to pay the whitetails no attention. The great bird stands erect, and with it's back curved inward stretches it's wings. One big shudder and the eagle has tucked itself back into the slender, dark form against the growing light. Morning has broken...