January 2, 2010 in B
“Jesus Christ, it’s an eagle!”
We’re walking, late light on Christmas day when Lea spots it. Up ahead, just left off the path by The Hudson, a shape far bigger than any of the darting squirrels we’ve been throwing snowballs at. Then it lifts its head and we see its beak cut against the river, before it stoops and begins jabbing again.
It’ll make an awesome photo. That’s what I’m thinking. The George Washington bridge in the background, cars crawling like fire-ants, the eagle in relief against the water. America, America. But my camera has a shitty four times zoom and every time I nudge closer to get the shot, the bird lifts from whatever it’s eating and stares straight at me, completely still, and I retreat twice the distance I’ve just inched.
Lea laughs. I hold the camera out to her and she poses.
We make a wide hoop around the eagle and continue on up The Hudson, me glancing back every five steps to make sure it isn’t about to attack us. She laughs again.
“Big, brave man.”
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