Big Bear Eagles and Broody Chickens

Like so many other anxious humans, seeking a cheery distraction from endless doomscrolling, the mortal in my home tuned into the beautiful Big Bear Eagle cam.

How peaceful the scenery! How devoted the birds! The gorgeous eagle pair braving hurricane force winds and snow, lovingly alternating shifts to tenderly brood their clutch of eaglet eggs.

But then alas, human watchers from all over the world realized: it was not going to happen! The anticipated hatching was moot. Apparently some distressed eagle watchers even lashed out in anger and grief. How did this expected happy event become a sham, a tearjerker? 

I would hypothesize, one of the reasons this lack of hatching is so emotional, could be a sense of mourning. Perhaps we worry that the eagles, like human watchers, will be engulfed in grief?

As eagles are birds--the one comforting thought to remember is that unlike humans, birds broody behavior is driven mostly by hormones. Male and female birds produce prolactin. (Humans do too--for milk production) But in birds it signals: must sit on nest! Our own silkie chickens can attest to this. They are smart birds, but prolactin makes them wacky--launching  into mindless brooding machines, trying to hatch balls, rocks, an empty nest! All they think is: must, sit. on. nest! I have had silkies starve themselves refusing to get off an empty nest!

With that in mind, it's important not to overly anthropomorphize the bald eagles. Their hormone levels will drop, they won't overly analyze the event or need therapy. Instead, be ready to optimistically try again next year, when the sun starts shining and hormones awaken again 😊

Greetings From the Department of Worm Meat

Dear Dingo:

I was visiting Washington DC and noticed how incredibly seriously the humanoids take themselves. Everyone rushing off to everything else, because they are so very busy, so very important and so very well dressed to impress. Why are they racing to the grave?

Answer: 

Peacocking, status seeking and basically trying to avoid thinking about the unpleasant fact  that with 7.8 billion people on earth, most everyone is a forgettable nothingburger. Destined to eventually become worm meat like any ordinary pauper, plant or piggy.

Here's a test: list from memory how many dead people you can actually recall, let alone name their accomplishments. At most this will be around 100.

Divide 100 by 7.8 billion other humans--and that is the probability that anyone will remember how important you were. Except maybe the red worm feasting on your noggin. 

So rest assured--to the worm, you will be very important :)