AUGUST 12, 2025 – The bald eagle holds a special place here in the Northwoods of Wisconsin. This is befitting since back in the day, the eagle had no place here. Only after the total ban on DDT did this once endangered species return from the edge of extinction. Today bald eagles in these parts are nearly as common as are the longtime resident . . . crows. If the eagle’s call is as unattractive as the caw-caw-caw of the crow, in appearance the eagle is the most regal of all local raptors. As long as it keeps its mouth shut, the bald eagle cuts a majestic image.
Make no mistake about it: Haliaeetus leucocephalus is at the top of the food chain. Fish swim in our lake at their peril—as do small waterfowl. When you see an eagle swoop down over the water, talons dangling like hooks of death, ready to snatch its dinner out of the lake, you know this bird of prey doesn’t fool around. Friends of ours on the eastern shore of the lake reported that in their neck of the woods, pet collars littered the ground at the base of a large pine where an eagle’s nest was in command of the realm. Over the years, we’ve had close encounters with eagles in flight—one launching into the air from a hiding place in a branch overhead; with a large fish, another eagle dropping down off the boatlift canopy and into flight right off the water just as I was stepping off the boat onto the dock; yet another eagle fanning its six-foot-wing span as it left its perch near the dock and took off straight out over the lake. An eagle in action is always a sight to behold but rarely to be photographed.
This afternoon our crew hiked over to the cabin at Björnholm to visit my sister Elsa and her husband Chuck. While chatting out front along the retaining wall that keeps cabin and grounds from sliding down the steep embankment, we admired the splendid view of the lake, its rippled surface shimmering with sunbeams dancing in warm steady southern breeze.
Suddenly, my wife cried out, “Look at the eagle!” She pointed to the cluster of old red pine farther east along the bank. There was a mighty bird, perched near the top of the remains of one tree that had died many years ago. Through an opening in the boughs of a white pine closer to where we were seated, we were afforded a magnificent view of an eagle in regal profile. Our grandson’s parents were eager for him to see it, as were all of us. I tip-toed closer for an even better look, and the giant bird granted me license to do so. Of course it cast its wary “eagle eye” on us and turned its head our way to study more closely whatever threat we might pose. At the same time, however, the bird seemed to maintain its attention on the lake—and dinner. I snapped four or five photos and prepared for an in-flight picture, but as usual, I wasn’t fast enough. When the eagle decided it was time to fly-fly-fly away, it gave almost no signal. It simply took off.
In retrospect I was struck by the group’s enthusiasm over the eagle. Each of us thought it was a sight to behold. All conversation stopped the moment my wife said, “Look at the eagle!” and once we could see it, our thoughts and words were frozen.
I reflected on the eagle’s total command of our attention. Our awe was in no way diminished from the first time an eagle was sighted on our property. Despite the constant presence of bald eagles in trees along our shores, we haven’t grown the least bit blasé about them. They remain symbolic of all the natural wonders that surround us, and never are we cavalier about sighting an eagle, no matter how common or fleeting the encounters might be.
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© 2025 by Eric Nilsson
