Manifesting Eagles

Earlier this fall, just a few days after we opened the 2024 NestStory Eagle season for New Jersey’s 175 volunteers to log their data, Zac from NJFW installed a new Little Egg Cam for us at one of the state’s most remote Bald Eagle nests.

And it wasn’t even 24 hours later when he txt me:

I’m kinda disappointed we haven’t seen more activity yet.

Zac

I chuckled for a few reasons. First, because I completely understood and wanted to scream back, “I KNOW, RIIIIIGHTT????” But also because I didn’t feel that way at all. At least not yet. I’ve learned to temper my expectations with wildlife, especially when putting out a new camera somewhere.

Expect the worst, and you’ll always be satisfied. That’s my motto. And in terms of worst outcomes, just a tiny step above “I saw the most horrible thing happen on camera” is “I saw absolutely no things whatsoever happen on camera.”

But I started getting a little anxious when we still hadn’t seen much action by late November. 

I was on the road and traveling for Thanksgiving when my phone started blowing up. “Bleep bloop!” “Bleep Bloop!” “BLEEP BLEEP BLOOP BLOOP BLOOP!” 

Certain that these were notifications the apocalypse had finally arrived, I pulled over safely because I couldn’t imagine a worse time to need emergency medical services than the apocalypse.

And that’s when I saw they were all notifications from the new Little Egg Eagle Cam. I must have sat there along the highway for twenty minutes, watching video after video of glorious Eagle after glorious Eagle. Zombies or cyber-attacks, or whatever flavor of apocalypse it might have been, be damned. There were big Eagles and little Eagles, young Eagles and old Eagles, smooth Eagles and speckled Eagles. It was magnificent.

Apparently, this nest had all the Eagles!

This magical day is best captured in this single 10-second clip. If you look closely, you can count five individual Eagles representing almost all age ranges.

While we wouldn’t have another epic day like that, we did have some more sporadic activity. A juvenile landing and sitting for a bit. An adult eating a bird one afternoon. And in one incredibly hopeful clip, it appeared an adult Eagle was swooping and harassing a juvenile, trying to kick it out of the nest. That would be a great sign an adult in the area was planning to use the nest for adult things and that it was time to put the little kids away!

But then it all stopped just as suddenly as it had started. Each night, my fingers would twitch as I used all my strength to resist the urge to call Kathy Clark and ask her if this project was a disaster, if it was all over, and if there was no hope.

Then, this Thursday evening, I finally got the text I’d dreaded since the cam first went out. It was from Kathy. 

Our eagles have slowed down. Ok. I would expect more action by now. Did you hear that we had our first incubating nest discovered on 12/15?

Kathy clark

Now, if that doesn’t sound heartbreakingly awful to you, you must not know Kathy. This is panic-attack-level stuff. When I have a panic attack, I run around sweating, talking much too loud and too fast, and blurting out things I’ll deeply regret in just a few hours. Kathy in a panic attack is indistinguishable from the Buddha herself, sitting serenely beneath the Bodhi tree, calm as can be, expressing nothing but total peace and compassion for all sentient beings. But I can’t think of seven worse words to hear from her than “I would expect more action by now.”

I went to bed broken and hopeless. It was game over for our new camera. I awoke on Friday and wondered when we should pull the cam.

Then, just as the sun broke, something miraculous occurred. The first Eagle we’d seen in weeks showed up on cam. It was a young one, so not necessarily the Eagle we wanted, but it was something. I became vaguely paranoid that Kathy was using some kind of dark-magic-eagle-voodoo and somehow manifesting eagles to comfort me, just by texting me about them.

And then, in the late afternoon, an adult pair suddenly showed up on cam. They started moving sticks around and fixing up the nest! It looks like they are getting ready! Maybe just for Christmas, or maybe for the apocalypse. But maybe, just maybe, for babies.

I messaged Kathy about the good news and the unbelievable timing of it, accusing her of manifesting Eagles. Her response was perfect and profound:

Apparently, we just needed to be more concerned.

Kathy Clark

And that, my friends, is my story and my Christmas gift to you. As we celebrate the 50th anniversary of the New Jersey Endangered and Nongame Species Conservation Act, I can’t think of anything more fitting.

I don’t want to make Kathy feel old, but she’s been right there for the greater percentage of that 50-year history. She was there when New Jersey had just one pair of Eagles left, and she’s still leading the charge now that we have hundreds; so many I’ve got five at one nest in a 10-second clip!

The rest of the world destroyed our raptors, and Kathy calmly said, “Don’t worry, everyone. Hold my beer; I’ve got this.” And that’s how she earned the title “The Great Mother of all cool things in New Jersey that you can’t shoot with a gun.” (our shorthand version of “Endangered and Nongame Species Program” which is a mouthful.)

And now I know her secret. She hasn’t been recovering anything. She’s been manifesting all these Eagles and Ospreys and Peregrines all this time. 

And, apparently, all it takes to get started is to be “a little more concerned.”

Happy Holidays, and Happy 50th Anniversary of New Jersey’s Endangered and Nongame Species Conservation Act. May you manifest many wonderful things this coming year by simply showing a little concern

And now I gotta run. I’m a little concerned the pair hasn’t shown up on camera today.