was just before the trees we saw it: something hanging, flapping on the barbed-wire fence and crying out. It was a young golden eagle learning to fly; it had broken its wing crashing into the fence. Earl bundled it carefully in his jacket, to protect it and us, and we took it home. He splinted it up and kept it in his room for a while, but then he moved it into the big linen room across the hall.
A few days later Leon locked me in the linen room and banged on the wall to excite the bird into clawing me. At first I was afraid; the eagle raised her massive wings and screeched. The sound was overwhelming in the small room. She blinked her eye at me, turning and tilting her head to follow my movements, but I did not cry out. When she spread her wings, they touched the walls of the room. I slid to the floor, with her eye following me, and I asked her pardon, I didn’t want to bug her, but it wasn’t my fault. Her long, thin tongue stretched out of her beak as she shrieked again, and blinked her fierce eye at me, sitting on the floor.
I feared her. Leon got tired of banging outside on the wall and so I began to make the same movements she did, spreading my arms. Soon I was laughing. I thought we were laughing together; we became friends and I visited her often after that. She let me touch her claws: she knew I was afraid so she remained very still. The first time I tried to touch her back, she beaked forward and shrieked. I told her I was scared, and she held her head motionless and slowly I touched it. Her eyes seemed to roll in her head when she blinked, but they were always fixed on one place. It seemed to me our actions and thoughts together were telepathic.
In the evening, when Earl came home from school, he’d take the eagle outside and let her sit on a perch he built on the north side of the White House. Then I was posted at Eagle Watch while Mom and Earl ate in the kitchen, especially to keep kids out of the yard, whom she might attack.
It seemed to me we could speak to each other, her one eye looking at me and then the other. She was quiet, watching and waiting to heal. Now, outside, she seemed to look far away, herround head hooked down like a claw. I watched and watched, and then I had a sense and both of us seemed to know. The eagle shook her claw and the binding on her ankle fell off; she was loose on the perch and we both knew. She hopped a little and I moved against the wall to tell Earl because I was bound to him too, I had to let him know, and then she bounced across the grass four times.
Earl came running out, tried to grab her without his gloves, but she flew to the Catholic church statue across the street. She settled on the Baby Jesus held in the arms of the Virgin Mary. Earl climbed up to reach her, and the eagle flew again to perch on the stop sign where he would swing when we came home on the truck with logs. She sat there till she turned to look at me. I could feel our thoughts intertwine, and I said, “Go. Go!”
And the eagle swooped away, low, was gone in a hiss of steam from a stinking tar truck patching the street. And she reappeared again, rising upwards, rising south over the snowy mountains.
Earl was so sad. He always said—and so did everyone in the family—that I let the eagle go. But I didn’t. I was just watching when she shook her claw and the binding fell away. I never took my eyes off her on the perch. I knew at any moment she would stretch her wings wide like she touched the walls in the linen room, and fly.
And I’m glad I watched. I was the only one who saw her when she first moved, saw her tilt forward one tiny movement, hop, swoop low, and lift herself into the light high over the roofs.
3
A Killing in the Family
Answer:
I lost my son, Earl, in City Jail in Butte, Montana. That was in 1971 when I lost my son …
Question:
You seem to recall that date quite clearly, is that true?
Answer:
It’s always on my mind.
– Cecilia Knight (formerly Johnson),
North Battleford
A few days later Leon locked me in the linen room and banged on the wall to excite the bird into clawing me. At first I was afraid; the eagle raised her massive wings and screeched. The sound was overwhelming in the small room. She blinked her eye at me, turning and tilting her head to follow my movements, but I did not cry out. When she spread her wings, they touched the walls of the room. I slid to the floor, with her eye following me, and I asked her pardon, I didn’t want to bug her, but it wasn’t my fault. Her long, thin tongue stretched out of her beak as she shrieked again, and blinked her fierce eye at me, sitting on the floor.
I feared her. Leon got tired of banging outside on the wall and so I began to make the same movements she did, spreading my arms. Soon I was laughing. I thought we were laughing together; we became friends and I visited her often after that. She let me touch her claws: she knew I was afraid so she remained very still. The first time I tried to touch her back, she beaked forward and shrieked. I told her I was scared, and she held her head motionless and slowly I touched it. Her eyes seemed to roll in her head when she blinked, but they were always fixed on one place. It seemed to me our actions and thoughts together were telepathic.
In the evening, when Earl came home from school, he’d take the eagle outside and let her sit on a perch he built on the north side of the White House. Then I was posted at Eagle Watch while Mom and Earl ate in the kitchen, especially to keep kids out of the yard, whom she might attack.
It seemed to me we could speak to each other, her one eye looking at me and then the other. She was quiet, watching and waiting to heal. Now, outside, she seemed to look far away, herround head hooked down like a claw. I watched and watched, and then I had a sense and both of us seemed to know. The eagle shook her claw and the binding on her ankle fell off; she was loose on the perch and we both knew. She hopped a little and I moved against the wall to tell Earl because I was bound to him too, I had to let him know, and then she bounced across the grass four times.
Earl came running out, tried to grab her without his gloves, but she flew to the Catholic church statue across the street. She settled on the Baby Jesus held in the arms of the Virgin Mary. Earl climbed up to reach her, and the eagle flew again to perch on the stop sign where he would swing when we came home on the truck with logs. She sat there till she turned to look at me. I could feel our thoughts intertwine, and I said, “Go. Go!”
And the eagle swooped away, low, was gone in a hiss of steam from a stinking tar truck patching the street. And she reappeared again, rising upwards, rising south over the snowy mountains.
Earl was so sad. He always said—and so did everyone in the family—that I let the eagle go. But I didn’t. I was just watching when she shook her claw and the binding fell away. I never took my eyes off her on the perch. I knew at any moment she would stretch her wings wide like she touched the walls in the linen room, and fly.
And I’m glad I watched. I was the only one who saw her when she first moved, saw her tilt forward one tiny movement, hop, swoop low, and lift herself into the light high over the roofs.
3
A Killing in the Family
Answer:
I lost my son, Earl, in City Jail in Butte, Montana. That was in 1971 when I lost my son …
Question:
You seem to recall that date quite clearly, is that true?
Answer:
It’s always on my mind.
– Cecilia Knight (formerly Johnson),
North Battleford
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