All at once the osprey, which had been uttering a low sort of whistle, folded its wings and darted down, swift as a flash, at an angle of about forty-five degrees. With a resounding smack, and in a cloud of white spray, it disappeared from view beneath the surface of the water; but instantly, with a vast flapping, it rose and fought to get wing-hold on the air. Taking flight only with the utmost effort, the boys saw that it held in its talons a big salmon whose weight was all it could manage to bear away.
“Well, what do you think of that?” said Jesse. “Didn’t he do it easy? I should think he would break his back, hitting the water that hard.”
“Yes,” commented John; “if a fellow dives from a place ten feet high it’s fall enough for him; but this fish-hawk came from two or three hundred feet up in the air. They must be put together pretty strong or they’d smash themselves. Look at him go!”
Uttering now its shrill whistle, the osprey rose higher and higher in a wide circle, endeavoring to carry off its prize. Something seemed to agitate the bird, and a moment later the boys saw what this was. High up above, in still larger circles, was a larger bird—a male bald eagle, which now drew into position directly above the osprey.
“Now watch, and you will see some fun,” said Rob. “No wonder Mr. Osprey is mad; he’s going to lose his fish—that’s what’s going to happen to him. Watch that eagle!”
The two birds kept their relative positions—the osprey, either angry or frightened, still struggling to get away with its prey; the eagle, easily circling above it, itself now and then uttering a shrill cry—a scream-like whistle that could be heard at a great distance.
At last the osprey gave up the struggle and attempted to escape. With difficulty it detached one foot from the fish, which now fell down at full length and disarranged the osprey’s flight. Finally it succeeded in shaking the talons of the other foot free. The osprey made a swift side dash and left the salmon to fall, at a height of, perhaps, one hundred and fifty feet or so.
The eagle, which seemed to be twice that high above the ground, now performed a feat which the boys could never understand. They did not see how he could fall much faster than the fish; yet before their eyes they saw the great bird half fold its wings and dart down swift as a flash. Before the salmon had struck the ground the eagle struck it, fair, with both feet, and, never touching the earth itself, swung in a wide, low circle, itself master by robbery of the prize which the labor of the fish-hawk had won.
“Look at that old thief!” said Rob. “It’s a funny thing to me that an eagle can’t very often catch fish for himself, plentiful as they are here. Yet you’ll notice that if an eagle is on a tree directly over the salmon he can’t start quick enough to catch a fish—it’ll always swim away from him. They catch some in shallow water, but they don’t seem to be very good fishermen after all. A bald-headed eagle would rather steal a fish from an osprey than to catch one for himself, and we’ve just seen how it’s done. Watch the old thief!”
The eagle, apparently contented with his morning’s work, leisurely rose and flapped on his way toward a clump of small cotton-woods. At the summit of a small tree he perched, holding the fish under his feet and uttering now some short, shrill cries, which the boys could hear answered from the heap of brush which they saw was the nest prepared by these birds. There were scores of these rude nests scattered along the timber flats.