MACROSCOPE
Beauty Is Only Feather Deep
Was the bald eagle really the best choice of national symbol? A closer look at the habits and evolutionary lineage of this American icon casts doubt
Catherine Raven
Saved by Reputation
Americans who don't live among eagles and haven't read Lewis's
journals can find enlightenment in Arthur Cleveland Bent's 1937
classic, Life Histories of North American Birds of Prey.
"A fine-looking bird," Bent writes of the bald eagle, but
"hardly worthy of the distinction [of being the national
emblem]. Its carrion-feeding habit, its timid and cowardly behavior,
and its predatory attacks on the smaller and weaker osprey hardly
inspire respect." Bent's baldies-behaving-badly exposé
also reveals that our nation's icon relishes vulture vomit. It's not
that they find the vomit lying around; rather, they seek out
vultures and force them to vomit. Then they eat the regurgitate.
"Our national bird may still be admired," Bent suggests,
"by those who are not familiar with its habits."
A few decades after Bent wrote those words, the time came when the
bald eagle truly needed the public admiration it had so unfairly
enjoyed. In the 1970s, DDT poisoning peaked, bald-eagle populations
crashed, and organizations to save the bird rose up like earthworms
after a rain. The tradition that Jefferson initiated was embraced by
those well-meaning conservationists, who didn't believe Americans
could love the bald eagle unconditionally. These activists saved the
species but cemented a longstanding misunderstanding about the bald
eagle's true nature. The three raptors I've discussed here might
appear similar if given only a cursory glance. But ospreys are
skilled fishers, golden eagles are keen hunters, and bald eagles
are, well, mostly vultures. Bald eagles decorate the sky largely
because they are vultures. Their white head feathers
contrast with a brown body and suggest their naked-headed ancestry.
And their soaring flight, though neither purposeful nor aggressive,
is a vulture trait as well. Hunting birds spend more time flying low
over the land, systematically searching for prey, a behavior known
as quartering.
Floating over gorgeous places and enjoying the view, bald eagles
seem to eschew responsibility. People might accuse me of that
attitude, too, given that I spend so many hours leisurely watching
birds. As a wildlife specialist, I am, technically, working during
these times. Yet like the bald eagle, I adhere to routines that look
more like loafing than real work. For me, it's a conscious lifestyle
choice. I wouldn't deny that the turkey is the more appropriate
symbol for Thomas Jefferson's concept of the nation, but for my idea
of America, where the Constitution guarantees the right to pursue
happiness, the bald eagle will do. After all, this is mostly how we
spend our time, the bald one and I, diligently pursuing happiness.
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