An Aerial Gymnast 



By CHARLES STUART MOODY, M.D.. Sandpoint. Idaho 



IT is doubtful if we ever learn all there is to learn about anything. Now, 

 for instance, I thought that I could tell practically every event in the life 

 history of the Golden Eagle, from his cradle in the old pine upon the mountain 

 side to his grave in some "bird stuffer's" show window, — for I am convinced 

 that that is the cemetery of practically all the Eagle family. I saw something 

 last summer, though, that taught me never to be too cock-sure of anything. 



The mountains of Idaho are peopled with Golden Eagles and the lake region 

 of the northern part seems to be a favorite habitat for them. The aeries are 

 scattered all around the shores of our larger bodies of fresh water, usually quite 

 near the water's edge, but occasionally one will be found upon the crest of some 

 sharp mountain peak, where a blasted pine has withstood the storms of centuries. 

 Ornithologists say that the Golden Eagle often nests in clefts of rocks; but they 

 never do so in this country. I have studied carefully the habits of the bird, have 

 located innumerable nests, but never one in any other location than the very 

 summit of a pine, or larch tree. The bird chooses, by preference, one that has 

 been struck by lightning and entirely deadened, or, at least, the top killed. 



My note-book speaks of the curious antics of an Eagle that we noticed on 

 July 14, 1908, on Lake Pend Oreille, Idaho. As I recall the matter, it was 

 in the mid-afternoon of a warm sunny day. There was not a breeze stirring. 

 My son and I were trolling for charr from a boat, without very flattering success. 

 I noticed a very large Golden Eagle sitting upon a pine some three hundred yards 

 distant from the shore. The pine stood upon the top of a narrow ridge. AVhen 

 I first called the attention of my son to him, it was for the purpose of having the 

 boy notice that the bird was making his toilet. He was preening his feathers and 

 la}ing them down carefully. After completing his labors, he spread a pair of 

 five-foot wings and sailed out over the water. I remarked that, if he hadn't any 

 better luck fishing than we had had, he would do just as well to rest and not exert 

 himself in the hot sun. He had no intention of fishing, however. When well 

 out over the water he began to ascend in broad spirals, as though he were mount- 

 ing some aerial stairway. Up, up, he went until he looked about the size of a 

 Sparrow Hawk. After poising a minute or two in the air, he began to descend, 

 turning over and over in the air, with wings outspread. Not doing summersaults 

 like a Tumbler Pigeon, but sideways. When about half way to the lake, that is 

 when he was about five hundred feet in the air, he suddenly reversed the process 

 and turned in the opposite direction. In this manner he fell until only a few 

 yards from the water. My son said that he "wound himself up, then had to 

 turn in the other direction in order to unwind." My acrobat was not content 

 with doing this stunt once, but repeated the action time and time again. In fact, 

 he kept it uj) half the afternoon. All the time he was talking to himself in possibly, 

 what seemed to him, an undertone, th(High it was perfectly audible even at the 



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