On Eagles Wings

Yesterday, Belle and I shared a first - but I hope not the last. The two of us were out flooding the ice rink. Or I should say, I was flooding and Belle was contentedly lying on the ice, shredding a stick all over the freshly scraped and swept surface.

Something caught my eye and I looked up. Above me, soaring with the cool wind, the sun gleaming off its white head and tail was a beautiful bald eagle. The eagle was so close I could see the definition of the feathers on the underside of the wings. I didn't say a word but Belle sensed somehow that this was special. She came and sat next to me and the two of us just watched the bird until carried by the currents it glided away.

I live in St. Paul, in a neighborhood about two miles from the river. But I've never seen a bald eagle anywhere but up north or soaring over the falls of St. Anthony. And never as close as Belle and I experienced yesterday. Raptor rapture.