Hatchlings

Anna pushed through the dense undergrowth, gazing at the cerulean, mauve and ochre around her. The young woman’s backpack was a steady and comforting weight on her back. Anna felt at home here in the jungle, searching for rare birds.

A flash of gray and a loud caw caught Anna’s attention. She whipped out her binoculars and trained them on the bird. The harpy eagle perched in a tall red cedar, pecking at a vibrant iguana. “Beautiful,” Anna murmured under her breath. She had never hoped to be able to see this rare bird in person much less study it. She silently drew out her field book and sketched her enormous harpy eagle. Suddenly it spread its vast wings. A feather fluttered down to Anna’s notebook. She gingerly held it to the light before snapping her notebook shut.

Forgetting all care, Anna raced after the eagle, leaping over logs and swerving around poisonous plants. Finally, the harpy eagle swooped down to land in a messy nest. Anna could barely glimpse the fluff of a hungry hatchling twenty feet above her head.

Suddenly a feeble cheep caught the scientist’s attention. She knelt down in the black dirt and found a white ball of fluff on the ground. It huddled pitifully away from Anna.

“Your sibling didn’t like you, huh?” Anna said tenderly. She scooped up the hatchling carefully. “You’re going to a good home until you’re big, okay? Your mama won’t want you back, Hatch.” Anna spoke softly to her hatching, as if he was a child.

He flapped his wings anxiously in the cage.

The brown-haired human stopped beneath a red cedar tree and pulled on some gloves, setting down her stuffed field journal. The pages fluttered open, revealing sketches of the harpy eagle, wings spread, and notes about his behavior.

The scientist gently undid the cage’s latch The door swung open, and he cocked his head. “Go on, my little Hatch. You’re free now.” The woman scooped up her notebook and retreated slowly.

He glanced back one last time, then spread his wings and let out a great caw.