Flying with the Eagles

I admire golden eagles. It has nothing to do with their appearance although they are beautiful. It has nothing to do with their personalities. As birds go, they are not particularly friendly. They are not well-read. They seldom volunteer for noble causes. They don’t sing, dance or play the flugle horn.

I admire and respect this bird because of its approach to sex.

For those of you who’ve never been inspired by the sight of golden eagles “getting it on”, let me describe the process.

A female golden eagle is flapping along, no doubt humming a little ditty to herself, thinking bird thoughts and wondering what to have for dinner. Off in the distance she spots a male golden eagle and a real stud muffin at that.

Ms golden eagle immediately begins climbing. The male sees her and obligingly starts to follow. Up and up they go until they have reached an altitude of 5 or 6 thousand feet. Only after they’ve reached that altitude do they “come together” and begin to mate.

Once joined, they are no longer aerodynamic and both of them begin to hurtle earthward. They will remain locked together, falling toward the ground, until they have completed the sex act.

It’s not that uncommon to find pairs of dead golden eagles on southern California beaches, victims, no doubt, of performance anxiety.

Now, I don’t know about you, gentle reader, but for my part, about the time we dropped to a thousand feet or so, I would seriously consider faking it. I’d be tempted to disengage and flap away âÂ?¦ maybe calling over my shoulder “Hey, you were great. I’ll call you”.

But golden eagles are far too honorable to resort such dishonesty. Once committed, they remain committed � even if it kills them.

You have to admire that kind of perseverance.