Two or three times the big eagle struggled up, and was drawn down again. It was a fight for life. Finally the kongoo succeeded in landing with his prey, feeling much exhausted. Then, with his powerful hook-like beak, he tore the fish and disentangled his claws; then he made his meal by holding the fish fast to the ground with his claws and picking his body.
After this he flew to the perch by his nest. His mate was upon it, and he said to her: “Dear, I have had an awful time since I left you. I hooked a fish that was deeper in the water and stronger than I believed, and he almost pulled me under. I thought it was all up with me and that I was to be drowned and should never see you again. But thanks to my powerful wings, I am safe.” Then he settled upon the nest to take the place of his mate, while she flew away to get her meal of fish.
In due course of time three little kongoos came out of their shells, to the delight of the two old ones. Now all their care and love were to be for these three little ones. As they grew big and their appetites and the amount of food to satisfy them had increased with their size, the old kongoos had to work hard to feed them. All the fishing eagles on the Eliva Monon had to work hard also, for every nest had a family, and the fish had a hard time.
“The kongoo, using all his strength with his wings, gave several flaps”
The eagles, after catching a fish, would fly toward their nest, then hover over it, saying, “Here I am, dear little ones. I have food for you.”
The young kongoos, hearing their parents, would look up and cry or shriek louder than they did before, with their mouths wide open to show how hungry they were, and were not pacified until food was given to them. The noise the little ones made during a great part of the day throughout the whole neighborhood was great indeed.
Our three young ones grew very fast, feathers were taking the place of their gray down, and in time the large feathers on their wings had grown almost enough for them to try to fly. While the two kongoos were perched by their nest one day, Mrs. Kongoo said to her mate, “I am going to fish.” Then she flew away.
Strange to say, she was never seen any more after this. Her mate was very much distressed. Toward sunset, as she did not appear, he uttered piercing cries, calling for her. He flew in search of her; but at last when it was almost dark, he came back to their tree, got upon the nest, took her place, and spread his wings over their little ones to keep them warm. That night he felt very unhappy, thinking all the time of his mate. At daylight he uttered shrill cries of distress which in the language of the kongoos meant: “Come to me, dear. Where are you? I am waiting for you.” But no answer came to him. In the mean time the young ones were clamoring for food. So the poor kongoo, with a sad heart, soared over the Eliva Monon for fish, and after a while came back with food for them. He had to work hard all day to feed them, for now he was all alone. In his spare moments, he would rest upon a tree and think of his dear missing mate and call for her, or he would fly up and down the Eliva Monon searching for her.
The little ones began to try the strength of their wings and see how far they could fly. But the old kongoo had to feed them, until at last they were able to take care of themselves and began to fish. The dear old kongoo mourned greatly after his mate. He would stand still for hours on a tree, and in despairing tones cry for her to come.