Chapter VIII: The White-Head Eagle

We started a little after daylight; and as my skiffman had forewarned me, found the current exceedingly sharp, and not a little dangerous--especially as we approached the island.

What with snags, whirls and "sawyers," we had some difficulty in making land, and might not have succeeded, but for a large tree that had fallen over the bank and formed a sort of pier to which we were able to make fast the skiff. The tree was a gigantic cottonwood, whose weight had hindered the current from carrying it off.

Scrambling along the trunk, I at length succeeded in planting my foot upon _terra firma_.

The nest I supposed could not be far off, and by the directions given me, I could easily find it.

The darky did not seem inclined to go ashore, or otherwise assist me in the search. He made some excuse about taking care of the skiff, and in the skiff I left him.

I again thought his behavior strange, but made no objection to his remaining. In finding the eagles, the old negro could be of no particular service to me. The island did not appear to be of any great superficial extent. I could soon traverse it in every direction. If the birds were upon it, I should see or hear them, and in stalking them I would be better alone--my sable companion not being much of a sportsman.

Getting over the ground did not prove such an easy task. It was thickly studded with heavy timber--cottonwood, tulip-tree, and cypress; and between the trunks there was an undergrowth of palmettoes, in places almost impenetrable.

Although the sun was shining brightly--I had left it so outside the island--under the trees it resembled twilight. In addition to their own thick foliage, they were festooned with Spanish moss, that shut out the sky like a curtain.

I soon despaired of seeing any thing of the eagles. Looking overhead, I could not see the sky--much less any object depending upon its brightness for being made visible.

I began to think of going back to the river-bank; and had already stopped in my tracks, when I perceived a slender list of light stealing through the timber beyond. It might be that I had arrived near the other side of the island. In any case, it was worth while going on to see; and I proceeded toward the light.

It proved only an opening among the trees, where a gigantic deadwood, divested of its leaves, permitted the sunlight to descend upon the earth.

The tree, an enormous _liriodendron_, had been struck by lightning, and long since dead. The parasites, that would otherwise have been sustained by its sap, had perished along with it, and dropped from its branches, lay strewed upon the ground below. Its huge limbs, blanched and twigless, were stretched like skeleton arms toward the sky. Its main stem had been broken off near the summit; yet still overtopped the surrounding forest.

In the fork where the fracture had occurred, I could see a huge protuberance that did not seem part of the tree. It was a collection of dead sticks and branches, rudely wattled together, evidently the nest for which I was searching.

As I stood regarding it with upturned eyes, a strange sound came into my ears, almost filling them with its harsh intonations. I can compare it to nothing so near to what it seemed, as the filing of a huge frame saw, or the laugh of a maniac escaped from his keeper.

As I stood listening, it seemed to repeat itself in echoes as if the whole island had suddenly been converted into a pandemonium.

I was not dismayed. The sound was not unknown to me. I knew it to be the scream of the white-headed eagle.

I had just time to get my rifle ready for firing, when four of these grand birds--the parents and brood of which I had heard spoken--came sailing overhead. Their broad-spreading wings shadowed the patch of open ground as they soared majestically above the blighted tree.

I was in hopes that one or other of them would alight, and give me a chance of obtaining something like a fair shot. But in this I was disappointed. Even over their own nest they were shy. It had been long forsaken, and the first that uttered the cry had sprung up from it, alarmed by my presence below.

I waited for some time, but perceiving that they did not intend to alight, I determined to risk the chance of a flying shot. What would I not have given at that moment for a smooth-bore, loaded with "buck." Unfortunately I carried a rifle, with only a single bullet.

The four eagles continued to circle around the forsaken nest.

I observed that only two of the four had the white head and tail. The other two were of a uniform dusky brown. The former I knew to be the old birds with plumage matured.

Choosing the larger of these, I took aim and fired.

The eagle fell at my feet, crippled by a shot through the shoulder.

But I had not yet secured my prize, and on through the palmettoes I rushed after the wounded bird, that went screaming and fluttering before me.

More than a hundred yards was made in this way, when a blow from the butt of my rifle at length put an end to the scrambling chase, and the eagle was mine. It was the female, a fine bird, in perfect plumage.

By this the other three had gone clear off from the island, as I could tell by their screams heard dying away in the far distance.