The routine of camp life, where one is obliged to do all the cooking and
other work, besides providing food, is ordinarily enough to keep the
camper pretty busy. The boys usually found enough to do with their
hunting, fishing, cooking, and other work, but sometimes in these long
Alaska days, where for almost twenty-four hours the sun shone and the
darkest night was scarcely more than an hour or so of twilight, they
found time to wander around their island in exploring expeditions.
At times they climbed one peak or another almost to the top, but from
the loftiest eminences they attained they could see nothing of the
interior of the island except more and more sharp and rugged peaks
thrusting themselves up--a mountain region which, indeed, is little
known by any white man, or even by the natives, who rarely go far
inland.
A customary journey for them was along one or the other of the river
valleys which came down to their bay, the mouths of which they could
reach in calm weather easily by a short journey in the dory. Their
favorite valley was that running back from what they called "Gull
Rocks." It was traversed by a good salmon river and was much frequented
by wild animals. As it chanced, they did not run across any more bear,
although continually here and elsewhere they saw signs where these great
animals had done their work in salmon-fishing--heaps of bones where
scores of fish had been partially stripped of their flesh.
On one particular day, as the young adventurers passed up this valley on
an all-day tramp, they found the salmon heaps especially abundant, and
observed that the numbers of crows and eagles were more than usually
great.
"I think it's a new run of fish coming in," said Rob. "Probably the
'humpies' are beginning to run. They're bigger than the red salmon,
which we've been having so far. They're better to eat, too; even the
bears know that. We'd better look out or we may run across more bear in
here than we want. See here where this big fellow was eating last night.
I suppose he has gone back into the mountains somewhere by now. And
here is where some foxes have come down and eaten what the bears left;
and the crows are waiting to eat what the foxes left. And look there, at
that fish-eagle! Old Mr. Osprey is working for his breakfast now."
He pointed to a large, grayish bird which was circling above them, its
neck bent down as it peered intently at the surface of the stream below.
"Watch him!" said Jesse. "There!"
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.
"Let's go and see what they do now," suggested Rob.
As they approached they saw the male bird clumsily flap down to the
nest, where it dropped the fish. The hen eagle fell upon it with short,
savage screams and began to tear it apart. They also saw, now and again
bobbing above the rim of the nest, the heads of two young eagles.
Rob cast a critical look at the trunk of the tree. "I can climb that
tree," said he, at last, "and I have a mind to turn the tables on that
old thief up there."
He pointed to the male eagle, which was now flapping in short circles
above the top of the tree, uttering hoarse cries of anger.
"You'd better look out," said John; "old Mother Eagle will pick your
eyes out if you're not careful."
"I'm not so sure about that," said Rob; "but I'll take care. Anyhow,
here goes!" So saying, he threw off his coat and began to ascend the
tree, a feat which grew easier as he reached the wide-spreading limbs.
In a few minutes he stood almost under the nest. Here he kept his left
arm in front of his face and made feints with a piece of branch at the
mother eagle, which indeed came dangerously close to him. The boys below
began to flop their arms and throw up their coats. At length both of the
parent birds, contrary to what might be believed or may have been
written regarding them, turned tail like cowards and abandoned their
young to their fate. They perched on trees a hundred yards or so
distant, and watched to see what would go forward. Rob worked his way on
up the tree and peered curiously over the edge of the wretched
brush-heap which served as the nest. Here he saw two large, ungainly
young birds, not yet able to fly, but able to spit, scratch, and flap
their wings. Getting a good foothold on a supporting branch, Rob made
several attempts to get hold of the young birds. Finally he succeeded in
getting one by the neck, and with a jerk threw it out so that it fell
flapping to the ground. Skookie would have killed it at once, but the
others stopped him. A few moments later they were owners of both these
birds, and Rob had rejoined his companions at the foot of the tree.
"I'll tell you what," said he, as he wiped the perspiration from his
face; "let's see if we can't make pets of these eagles. We nearly always
have more than we can eat, and it's the same sort of food these birds
are used to; so why shouldn't we tie them up and keep them around the
hut? Maybe they'll scare the crows and ravens away from our fish."
"That's a fine idea," said John. "We'll just try that. I had a couple of
hawks once for pets. They ate a great lot, and they fought you, too, for
a long while. My hawks used to lie on their backs and grab me by the
hand every time I tried to feed them. I suppose these eagles will be
worse yet."
"Anyhow, we'll try them," said Rob. "Let's wrap them up in our coats and
take them down to the boat."
This they did, and although the old eagles followed them for two or
three miles, sometimes coming rather close, and frequently uttering
their wild calls of anger, the boys had no trouble in making away with
their young captives. The birds seemed rather stupid than otherwise, and
were as ready to eat food from human hands as from the talons of their
parents. They did not really become tame, but, having learned their
source of food, in a few days became so indifferent to human presence
that they would only ruffle up their scanty crests and beat their wings
a little when approached. They never allowed one to put a hand on their
heads, and, indeed, were very far from being friendly. Their presence
about the camp, however, did serve in part to mitigate the nuisance of
crows and ravens, which continually hovered about, trying to steal from
the scaffold where the boys kept their supplies of meat and fish. All
boys like pets, and these found their strange captives interesting
enough at least to help pass the time.