There is a natural fact that becomes evident on the dry western slopes of the Cascades. From there the fact pertains across thousands of miles eastward and southward. Across grasslands, sagebrush steppe, arid brushlands and unforested valleys that fact is the alpha predator, the Golden Eagle.
Many are the creatures that fear the eagle and some of those will take the chance to harass or mob the bird. The Golden Eagle can soar easily on sunny days when the hot air rises to produce thermals. His eyes can see for miles, his large wings carry him across open miles in search of prey. I often wonder: does he ever bother to savor the view from up there? Does he enjoy the feel of soft warm air riffling across his stiff feathers, perhaps tickling a bit the taut muscles that control flight and tail feathers so adeptly, so precisely?
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