One day last week, I looked up and saw an eagle hovering over our backyard.
It circled Rahiti, and my motherly instinct went into overdrive.
I envisaged one of those YouTube videos where a giant bird takes off with a baby goat, except in this instance it was a giant bird taking off with my baby.
So, I followed Rahiti as he toddled around the garden, arms behind my back, shoulders squared with a staunch expression on my face – exactly like the security guards at the Mollymook Golf Club.
“C’mon f*cker”, I whispered under my breath. “I dare ya to try something.”
(I have a vivid imagination. In fact, in primary school, I received an award for ‘Vivid Imagination’).
The next day I was driving down my street, and I saw the circling eagle again.
I pulled over and pressed the button by my window. It bzzzzed down slowly, and with my vision clear, I watched and waited.
But as I watched, my heart started to soften towards the bird. It didn’t seem particularly murderous. In fact, she seemed to be looking for something.
Long low soft swoops, around and around and around. She keened a few times.
My motherly instinct went into overdrive again. Maybe she’d lost her baby. Her beautiful baby with soft downy feathers and a cute little beak and now it was lost, knocked to the ground, a squashed cube of broken feathers and busted bones.
Maybe something had taken her baby. A dog. Or a cat had tipped over her nest. Or a possum had shaken the baby loose.
Tears started streaming down my cheeks in empathy. She was looking out for her kids in this big bad world, and no one was looking out for her or making her cups of tea or offering to give her a massage.
‘I could be that person for you’, I thought telepathically, concentrating all my energy into a singular beam that was pointed directly at the lady eagle’s brain.
She paused. Then dove.
The world stopped. My breath halted.
And then she emerged. Triumphant. A wriggling snake pinned in her beak.
“Right” I thought, buzzing the window back up, and pulling onto the road.
I was going to try and tie this story up in some nice neat bow. Something about loving when my first instinct is correct, and what lesson that can teach us about life.
But…. it’s a long weekend tomorrow.
You don’t need a moral to this story. You just need the weekend to start!
So, no lesson today. No action to take either.
Happy Easter, my friend.
I hope you have a beautiful weekend.
PS – Alright, I’ll give you one thing to do. If you like these stories I write (the ones with morals, and the ones without), you should join my letter gang. I’ll send you a story, like this one, every week. People say it’s the best email they read all week. Upgrade your inbox right here.