Imagine a loud, shrill "quirk, quirk, quirk, quirk" quickly followed by a shrill, strung-together, "qwuirlk-qwuirlk-qwuirlk-qwuirlk-qwuirlk" and so on. Its a sound like no other around these parts. Its more like a scream but its melodious. Its powerful, its special. Its glorious. I've listened to it for 8 years now. A former city-boy, now in the sticks.

I get out of my car and I'm blessed with this song. How can a scream be a melodious song? I walk to the edge of the driveway and look down into my woods. There's a creek about 100 feet down the hill on the other side of the hickories. They sit in the hickories and sometimes fly along the creek--perhaps to fish. Sometimes a white head will contrast against a dark tree and give them away.

From the edge of the driveway, I spot two in flight--one adult followed by a juvenile. Probably others in the trees. After 8 years, I'm still in awe of their size. They turn about 150 feet away and 50 feet down from me. The adult shows its contrasting white head and tail. Just as in the images. Geez its a big bird, I think. The juvenile follows with its dark colors and mottled white feathers. Another two years or so and it will have its white tail and head.

I walk down about 15 feet of steps to the lower yard. The bald eagles are still calling. Its time to feed the other backyard birds. A male downy lands on a hickory and eyes the suet. The titmice know what I'm up to. They wait 10 feet away until I fill their feeder with nut-mix. Did you know Titmice prefer rounded peanuts? The cardinals--males and females--are waiting for their BOSS. Nuthatches are dressed in their tuxedos. The chickadees are screaming: "Its the old guy with the food." Every one knows what I'm doing. The red-bellies make their move in the woods. Do they always have their eyes on me? If it was in the morning, the white-throated sparrows would leave their brush and sing when they see me.

I walk back up the steps to the driveway and turn toward the woods and creek. The bald eagles are still calling. I've seen 3 adults and 3 juveniles in the woods this year--almost every day. I look around in search of humans. No one is there. No one else understands the shrill glory of it. Just me. I'm so fortunate.