I did not see it fall, and knew nothing of the eagle's
presence until he fluttered to the beach.
Some days later, I saw the big thief--emblem of American liberty--play
his sharp game to the finish. I was crossing the bridge, and by accident
turned and looked upward. (By accident, I say, but I was always doing
it.) High in the air were two birds, one chasing the other,--a fish-hawk
and a young eagle with dark head and tail. The hawk meant to save his
dinner if he could. Round and round he went, ascending at every turn,
his pursuer after him hotly. For aught I could see, he stood a good
chance of escape, till all at once another pair of wings swept into the
field of my glass.
"A third is in the race! Who is the third,
Speeding away swift as the eagle bird?"
It _was_ an eagle, an adult, with head and tail white. Only once more
the osprey circled. The odds were against him, and he let go the fish.
As it fell, the old eagle swooped after it, missed it, swooped again,
and this time, long before it could reach the water, had it fast in his
claws. Then off he went, the younger one in pursuit. They passed out of
sight behind the trees of an island, one close upon the other, and I do
not know how the controversy ended; but I would have wagered a trifle on
the old white-head, the bird of Washington.
The scene reminded me of one I had witnessed in Georgia a fortnight
before, on my way south.
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