Monday Morning Musings

Posted on October 1, 2018 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

Albert the eagle

 

It would appear that many human beings have become a complacent and occasionally lazy lot. Instant gratification and entitlement rule the day.

Do you remember the good old days of two channel television where you actually had to get up out of your chair to change the station? Can you imagine the crisis if all the remote control devices mysteriously disappeared? How would we get into our homes, garages and cars without a keyless entry system? And God forbid but can you imagine the consternation and confusion if someone had the temerity to shut down the drive through lanes at fast food restaurants and coffee chains? People would actually have to haul their butts out of their vehicles and walk 20 or so feet to get their caloric or caffeine fix, prepared by someone else, of course.

These random thoughts occurred to me on the weekend at the wharf in Bayfield. This would appear to be an odd place to have this sort of existential crisis, a moment when an individual questions if their life has meaning, purpose or value. And what triggered this moment of angst, this feeling of deep anxiety and dread?

The appearance of a bald eagle sitting on the massive rocks of the breakwater.

Normally, the sight of a bald eagle makes my heart soar, lifting my spirits to the heavens. The eagle is known for its long life, great strength and majestic looks.

I had wandered down to the wharf to watch fishermen catch bass off the end of the wharf, hardly a spectator sport for most normal people but I have yet to be labelled “normal.” I parked my car near the community centre and walked the length of the wharf. Part way down, I spotted a bald eagle sitting on the rocks of the breakwater. I whipped out my cellphone (Brownie camera?!) and quietly posed to take a picture. I inched my way further along to try and get a clearer picture. Normally, a bald eagle takes flight the moment it senses humans. I was almost at the end of the wharf and the bird hadn’t moved a muscle. I started to wonder if it was a decoy.

There was a car parked on the wharf. As I approached, a canine in the back seat let out a blood curdling howl announcing my arrival. The fact that the bald eagle didn’t flinch with this intrusion should have been my first clue that something was amiss.

There was a solitary fisherman casting his line into the waters of St.George’s Bay. He told me that he was fishing for mackerel and bass. I thought this to be an odd combo but hey, I’m not a fisher person. He explained that catching the mackerel was to key to catching the bass as it would be used for bait. I watched several unsuccessful casts. I peered across at the breakwater.  The eagle still had not so much as tilted its head.

I queried the fisherman about the near comatose bird. “Oh, that’s Albert.” His response was nonchalant in much the same way as if his cousin had just appeared. I would come to learn that Albert is indeed a permanent fixture at the Bayfield wharf. And why has one of Mother Nature’s most awe inspiring creatures become so inured to human beings?

Entitlement.

You see, Albert has become part human. He expects immediate gratification. Rather than work for his prey, he sits patiently on the rocks waiting for fish to be caught for him. When the fisher person hauls in the first mackerel and cuts a sliver off for bait, the remainder of the carcass is tossed aside. This is when Albert takes flight gathering up the mackerel remnants, his own version of a dive through restaurant.

I felt like hanging around to witness all of this and possibly getting  Albert’s signature or posing with him for a selfie.

I finally have a title for my India book and hope to have the book published by the end of November.

Please check out Faces in the Crowd this Thursday. My subject is an Iraqi (now Canadian) surgeon. His story is quite fascinating. He spent nearly three years on the Iran Iraq border during the war in the early 80’s. It sounded very much like a M.A.S.H. unit without Alan Alda’s humour.

Have a great week.