Close your eyes for a moment (it's OK, nobody's looking). Now think of an eagle. Think not of just any old, run-of-the-mill Golden, Harpy or White-Tailed Eagle. Banish all thoughts of buzzards (seriously, some buzzards are eagles. Who knew?). What I want you to envision is that noblest and greatest of all the eagles: The American Bald Eagle, that steely-eyed, razor-taloned, high-flying symbol of America — a bird so bad-assed that it even mates in the sky, literally the coolest definition of "getting down" ever.
Keep your eyes closed (seriously. I mean it.) What's your eagle doing? Soaring high above the purple mountain's majesty? Perching confidently at the top of a tree, a king on his throne, undisputed lord of all he surveys? Perhaps dramatically diving to snatch a fat trout from some alpine lake? Protectively standing guard over its nest full of adorable baby eagles? Or perhaps you're doing a mental montage of all of the above, because, let's face it, that's how we all see them.
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The first Bald Eagle I ever saw close up was face-down in a dead raccoon, making the most of the roadkill du jour. I mean, he was wearing that thing out. I slowed down to get a better look, and he didn't like that at all. He hunched up his shoulders, spread his wings and kind of...well...hissed at me. Seriously. I didn't even know they could do that. A spine-tingling scream of challenge or victory, yeah, but hissing like a peevish house cat when a puppy bothers it?
It even looked ridiculous, like a grouchy old man chasing kids off his lawn. It looked like a feathered Bill O'Reilly waking up from a coma and being told that a Bernie Sanders/Elizabeth Warren ticket had won the election.
Seriously. Open your eyes (actually, you can keep them open from here on out. It'll make the reading easier), and look at that picture. Now add feathers. Yup, it looked just like that.
I remember it being a really unsettling, and disappointing, experience that was made even worse by the fact that I saw probably 20 or 30 more bald eagles (sorry, they just don't deserve the capitals anymore) doing the same thing that evening. That's not even taking into account how hard Wisconsin traffic is on the rest of the wildlife. That whole road was like a Golden Corral for scavengers.
Yes, Virginia, reality is often very unpleasant and disappointing. What's even more disappointing is when we turn that lens of reality on ourselves. We all like to think of ourselves as free-thinkers, but how often do we find ourselves chowing down (metaphorically) on the pre-killed, pre-processed, fresh-from-the-asphalt dead raccoon of memes, the pizza flat, tire-marked opossum corpses of pundit's paid-for "opinions",or, the hardest to resist of all, the reeking, bloated deer carcasses of ancestral, family, and religious customs?
I'm not saying you can't live on those thoughts your whole life, but they will make you fat-headed, slow-witted and lazy, just like eating nothing but junk food will make you physically fat, slow, and lazy (trust me, I know).
If we really are free-thinkers, then we've got to stop eating the easy, provided-for-us thoughts. We've got to test everything, question everything, and dig into some real, no-shit, fresh, free-range, still-on-the-hoof, wild thoughts. I know it's not nearly as easy. Original thoughts are sneaky, shifty things, and It takes a lot of work to catch one, but they are beautiful, delicious, and not fattening.
It's well worth the effort, even if you only get close.
P.S. You know that whole aerial love-making thing? I just found out that they don't even really do that. Talk about having your bubble burst. Now I'm really bummed. Thanks, Google.
