I'm ten weeks old now, and finally ready to leave the nest. Don't get me wrong – my parents have been great, even if Mom's constant preening and Dad's flying lectures got a bit much sometimes. But an eagle needs his space, you know? It's not like I'm ghosting them; I'll visit. Probably when I run out of food or need someone to complain to about how slippery fish are getting these days.
I'm especially eager to move out because I'm so close to reaching that magical 100 bioenergy mark. After two weeks of carefully monitored hunting with my parents aka "helicopter parenting" taken way too literally, I've managed to accumulate 70 points. Now that I'm on my own, I can hunt whenever I want. The suspense is killing me – what happens at 100? Do I get super-eagle powers? A built-in GPS? The ability to shoot lasers from my eyes? A guy can dream.
These past two weeks have been intense. Thanks to Dad's endless whistling corrections which I swear sometimes translated to "No, no, tuck those wing tips in – you look like a drunk pelican!", I've become pretty decent at flying.
My high intelligence helped too, though sometimes I wonder if being the only eagle who understands physics makes me a bit of a nerd in the bird community.
I know the eastern front better than I ever knew my old human neighborhood. Every thermal, every good perching spot, even which branches can hold my weight without making embarrassing cracking sounds. The western front's becoming familiar too, though I still get side-eye from the wolves when I fly over.
I've already picked out my new place – a sweet pine tree about four miles from the river. Yeah, it's a bit of a commute to the fishing spots, but the previous tenants left behind this massive nest. We're talking premium real estate here: ten feet wide, sturdy construction, excellent sight lines. It's like finding a fully furnished apartment in Manhattan that someone just walked away from. I've been checking it daily for a week to make sure no other bird's going to show up with a claim to it. Squatter's rights are serious business in the eagle community.
The nest needed some work though. I spent the morning gathering materials – selecting twigs that were just the right thickness, collecting downy feathers ,mostly ones I shed myself, because I'm not about to go yanking feathers off other birds, and even finding some soft grass for lining.
Building with talons and a beak is interesting, let me tell you. Try imagining doing home renovation with just your face and toes – that's basically what I'm working with.
I started by reinforcing the base structure, weaving new twigs into the existing framework. It's surprisingly technical work – each piece needs to lock into place just right, or you end up with a wobbly mess. I used my beak to strip bark from the fresher twigs, making them more flexible for weaving. The trick is to create a basket-like pattern that can withstand strong winds without falling apart.
The interior required a gentler touch. I laid down a layer of smaller twigs, creating a sort of natural mattress frame. Then came the soft grass, which I had to carefully arrange with my beak, making sure it wouldn't blow away in the first strong breeze. Finally, I added the feathers, creating what I'd like to think is the eagle equivalent of memory foam.
The whole process took hours, but watching everything come together was satisfying in a way that filing TPS reports never was in my previous life.
Standing back to admire my handiwork, I felt pretty proud. The nest looked cozy enough to feature in "Better Homes & Eagles." But home improvement works up an appetite, and my stomach was reminding me that interior decorating doesn't fill the tank. Plus, I had a mission: get those remaining bioenergy points.
By my calculations, I needed just a few more successful hunts to reach 100. I figured I could hit that target within a day or two if I played my cards right.
As I flew toward the river, I spotted a young rabbit that clearly hadn't been paying attention during "How Not to Get Eaten 101." Perfect timing – I was in the mood for some fast food, and each rabbit was worth about 7 points. I gained altitude, riding a thermal until I was high enough that my shadow wouldn't give me away. The rabbit was contentedly munching on some grass, completely oblivious to the fact that it was about to become my lunch and my stepping stone to evolution.
I dove at just the right angle, my wings tucked close to reduce drag. The strike was clean this time – no messy struggling or undignified flopping around. My talons found their mark with surgical precision, and it was over quickly. I'm getting better at the whole dismembering process too. Less "crime scene" and more "professional chef," though I doubt any restaurant would appreciate my technique.
{Bioenergy: +7}
{Bioenergy: 77/100}
After taking care of some... personal business ,yes eagles poop too, and no, I don't want to talk about it, I headed to my favorite fishing spot. The river sparkled in the afternoon sun, and thankfully, I didn't see any of those irritating grey fish that had humiliated me during my first hunting attempts.
After about thirty minutes of waiting – during which I contemplated both the meaning of life and how many more fish I needed to catch to trigger whatever transformation awaited at 100 bioenergy – I spotted a black fish near the surface. This time, my dive was textbook perfect. I hit the water at exactly the right angle, talons extended just so, and snagged that fish like I'd been doing it for years.
No splash, no struggle, just smooth professionalism. I'd like to think my parents would have been proud, though Mom would probably still find something to critique about my technique.
I managed two more successful hunts before calling it a day, each one bringing me closer to that tantalizing 100 mark.
{Bioenergy: +5}
{Bioenergy: +5}
{Bioenergy: +5}
{Bioenergy: 92/100}
As the sun set, painting the sky in colors that still take my breath away, do eagles get breathless? Questions for another day, I settled into my newly renovated nest. The soft lining felt perfect, and the view was spectacular. Below me, the forest was coming alive with night sounds – owls beginning their shifts, wolves heading out for their evening hunt, the usual forest symphony.
Watching the stars appear one by one, I couldn't help but feel excited. Not just about my cozy new nest or my improving hunting skills, but about what tomorrow might bring. At 92 bioenergy, I was just a few successful hunts away from whatever evolution had in store for me. Would I become stronger? Faster? Get some cool new abilities? Maybe even unlock the secret to why those grey fish were so annoyingly slippery?
Though I did make a mental note to maybe install some cup holders tomorrow. A nest can never be too fancy, right? And who knows – maybe after evolution, I'd figure out how to build them without opposable thumbs.