Man, nature is brutal
But also... beautiful
Dear mixers,
It has been a month since I’ve sent out this newsletter—unintentionally, of course. I had built a solid biweekly (in the every-two-weeks sense) practice, only for it to come crashing down due to the worlds both inside and outside of my own head. The high/lowlights of this past month:
My kitchen has still not been repaired
Went to the Times Square Margaritaville and had a blast (minus the food)
Submitted a pretty funny essay to a popular newsletter and got rejected *sob*
Ended up a mere four feet away from Tommy Wiseau at a showing of his magnum opus, The Room
Unintentionally started a sort of collage vision board (that is not yet finished)
Spent an afternoon in Westport, Connecticut with family and seeing a very talented cousin do their thing on stage
Also notably, I have not heard from my therapist in three months!!!! I literally just (read: a year ago) wrote about what an amazing therapist she is!! At this point, she has not responded to a few emails, and I have been forced to conclude that she is either dead or hates me now and figured ghosting me was the cleanest break. I fear the time has come to *shiver* call her to find out which of these options is the truth.
This is a terrible time for my therapist to be MIA, actually, because I have been going through it, dear reader. At the start of the month, I was made aware of the two live cameras, run by the nonprofit Friends of Big Bear Valley, that monitor a bald eagle couple, Jackie and Shadow, that lives in the Big Bear Valley in California. (To me, Big Bear is where my much cooler and more athletic middle school friends went to snowboard.) This year, the camera feeds were all the more exciting because Jackie and Shadow were not alone—there were three eggs in their nest! I learned this was a huge deal for Jackie, Shadow, and their many followers because many of their eggs and fledglings of years past had not survived.
By the time I tuned into the nest cam, two eaglets had already popped out of their shells, while everyone waited with bated breath for the third to follow suit. The two little birds were so frickin’ cute, I couldn’t wait for a third to join them. I began to put the feed on my TV first thing in the morning to check in with the little family: Jackie, the diligent mother sitting on her kids; Shadow, the provider, bringing coot after coot and fish after fish to the nest; the two eaglets, screaming their heads off for more food once uncovered; and the remaining egg (who knows what was happening inside there). In my decrepit one bedroom in Brooklyn, I could expand my horizon, almost literally, with the live feed on my TV. I could bring a close-up view of nature at its most beautiful into my living room, which despite my two south-facing windows, suffered from the weak winter sun and early sunsets. I celebrated each new food item brought to the nest, each bite an eaglet took from a parent. And, of course, celebrated big time when the third egg hatched just a few days after its siblings.
Every day with this eagle family was a treat. When I was home, the TV was on. I watched their progress and daily life diligently. Pretty soon my phone browser tabs were always open to the nest cam, the live recap Google doc the FOBBV volunteers update to note the eagles’ movements (bowel and otherwise), and the Cali Condor YouTube account which posts shorter clips of notable events from the cameras. I nodded when I saw all three chicks getting fed and laughed whenever they shot poop on each other or their parents. I even started to fret when the firstborn eaglet began to clearly outgrow and bully the other two. “Be nice!!!!” I yelled at the TV. I hoped Jackie or Shadow would step in if the sibling rivalry got too vicious.
A couple of weeks ago, it was noted that a big winter storm would be hitting the Big Bear Valley. Jackie and Shadow collected plenty of food and fed the eaglets until their crops (the body part that holds onto food basically) were full to the brim. Then when the storm hit, Jackie hunkered down as the snow piled around and then on top of her. She occasionally got up to eat and feed the eaglets when the snow let up, her feathers all wet. Then on the morning of March 14, FOBBV volunteers and other viewers noted that we could only see two chicks being fed their breakfast. The executive director of FOBBV, Sandy Steers, posted and went on newscasts to caution everyone that for one, snow was still piled up on the nest, blocking some of our view. The third chick could simply be out of sight. She also reminded us all that we are merely guests getting a special peek into the nitty gritty of nature. It was a good reminder for me. This wasn’t a highly produced nature show. David Attenborough wasn’t going to let me down softly if something tragic happened. If something happened, it happened. The cameras would catch it live, there would be no sensitivity delay or blurring effect.
Despite her reassurances, I was panicking. I texted Derek and my family group chat. I furiously refreshed the update doc and checked the comments under Cali Condor videos. I was glued to the live feed, hoping to catch the first glimpse of that third chick hanging onto life somewhere. All I saw was what everyone else saw: only two chicks getting fed. I ended up being a wreck that whole day. I slogged through a workout. I even almost cancelled plans with a friend that I had been really excited about! I just couldn’t see myself enjoying a night out while a baby bird I had grown attached to probably lay dead in the snow almost 3,000 miles away.
That night, the recap doc confirmed that the remains of one of the eaglets had been spotted in the nest. I went to bed sad and in shock. How could this have happened? Jackie was there the whole time, covering them with her big, feathery body! I hated that life could be so cruel. I hated too that I had grown so attached, that I had let my guard down only to be absolutely shattered. Why had I become so attached to these eagles?? Was it because I hadn’t been to therapy in months? Was it because the world continues to collapse around us, and I needed something, anything, pure to cling to?
I mourned the loss of the little chick with countless others across the country. YouTube comments and Reddit posts were full of fans, both longtime watchers and recent additions, sharing their grief. Many of these viewers were older folks who had virtually adopted the eagles into their family when their own children left the nest. While I was still sad for the little eaglet, I took comfort in knowing that I wasn’t alone in my feelings. For their part, FOBBV also took part in the collective grief, giving people the space to feel their feelings and to know that it was okay to step away if necessary. And again, they reminded us that we are witnesses to nature which happens with or without us. “We are viewing the everyday life of Bald Eagles. This is Nature, wild and unscripted,” they wrote on the recap doc on March 16, the day Jackie flew off the nest with the chick’s remains—an image that has been seared on my brain since.
They’re right, of course. This is nature and it is brutal. Wild animals die all the time whether there’s a camera on them or not. Some YouTube commenters posited that you could see Jackie and Shadow grieving their loss; Shadow was extra vocal one evening, Jackie was extra tender when moving the chick’s body. Whether or not Jackie and Shadow really were mourning their chick I don’t think we’ll really know unless eagle behavior experts chime in with evidence. But it’s easy for humans to ascribe human qualities to animals. It makes things easier for us to understand, helps us move through our own emotions. To us, that baby’s death was tragic and heartbreaking. To the eagle family, it may have been nothing more than the course of life. No thoughts or feelings about it, just the instinct to get to the next day.
Days after the chick’s death, I laughed at the remaining two chicks head butting each other and flopping around the nest. And then I almost cried that there was still joy to be found with these eagles. I constantly have to remind myself while watching that yes, this is literally live nature. A raven could swoop in at any moment and I would just have to witness it. Much larger now and waddling, the chicks could waddle a step too far and fall, and we’d all be heartbroken all over again. Clearly, now knowing that death could happen any second, I am often thinking of the worst case scenario. It sounds morbid, but that’s maybe the only way I can watch now. I must remind myself that this is real and still enjoy the eaglets’ goofy shenanigans. Derek, much less of a romantic than I am, also knows now that my expectations must be tempered. As we watched the bigger of the two (who is quite thicc) peck at its smaller sibling (who started the pecking in the first place), he said, “You know, I’m thinking that little guy might not survive. He’s a lot smaller and the bigger one is taking advantage and might start getting more and more of the food.”
He knew I had to be reminded. He knew I grow more attached to these eaglets by the day. He was only trying to help lessen the potential future devastation. And while I took his cautioning, I also couldn’t help but continue to root for the little eaglet. Sure it might die, but I’m choosing to believe he won’t. I’m choosing to believe his scrappy energy will get him through. After all, this tiny thirdborn made it through a huge winter storm while one of his older and bigger siblings—likely the big bully of the three!1—didn’t. Maybe my optimism and hope is foolish, but where’s the enjoyment in watching these cute little guys if I’ve already decided he’s dead?
It’s occurring to me now that maybe I’ve pinned my mental health not just to this eagle family, but to this little guy especially. Am I, three months and counting without therapy, the equivalent of a newborn bald eagle? I definitely look like a baby bald eagle some mornings. Maybe we feel the same sometimes, too. I’m struggling against all the things that comprise my life (taxes, bills, finding work, relationships, fighting fascism, etc.) and he’s simply fighting to stay alive. Definitely the same thing. But maybe while I’m rooting for him to make it out, I can root for myself, too. I can remind myself that even though life is sometimes brutal, I can still come out on the other side.
Per the recap doc: “The eaglet that passed away during the recent snowstorm will be named Misty in honor of Kathi Misterly, a very dedicated FOBBV volunteer who was lost to cancer and is still very missed.💔” Yes, I cried at this, too.