The Eagle

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Maybe I should name him Romeo, the way he sits outside my bedroom window.

Or maybe go cutesy and call him Don or Glenn or Joe after some members of the band.

But the name that keeps coming back to me is Larry Brown. Yes, I have a friend who is an eagle and I’m naming him Larry Brown.

You see, Larry is both nosy and persistent: two qualities that harken back to the original, late great writer Larry Brown.

Larry has been around our neighborhood for a while but only recently have I begun clawing myself awake and out of bed at 6 a.m. to find him looking right back at me.

The first time we saw him perched on the dead branch atop the oak tree in our backyard, my husband and I grabbed the camera and crept outside, hoping to not disturb him. And on that perch he stayed as we giggled about what a great and unusual sight this was until exactly 6:30 and he launched off toward the southwest.

Now we know that’s just Larry’s schedule. I’m not sure what time he arrives but when night starts to fade, he’s there on his branch until his internal alarm clock tells him breakfast is ready somewhere else.

I’ve begun talking to him as I let the dogs into the backyard for their morning routine (no worries, our boys are much too large to be carted off by Larry). I pepper him with questions he has yet to answer: Where is his nest? Does he still have a mate or is he looking for love? Does he call her Sheila Baby as his namesake would? Most importantly what has he learned about us from up there on his perch?

I don’t know where he goes; only that he comes back to us. Every morning at 6 a.m.

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