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Ewen the Eighth

by  Adrian Wylie

Posted: Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Word Count: 130
Summary: A Golden Eagle on your arm makes you feel like a warrior king. Excalibur was never as good as this. A thrilling and yet a humbling experience for a mere human. When the huge wings spread and the weight was lifted, I actually fell over and from the ground watched a part of my soul rise into the skies for ever. Those who gathered round to help me to my feet did not know that part of me was flying in formation with that eagle.




Ewen glided to his eyrie throne on the face of the mountain cliff and landed softly. He shuffled the moisture from his wings, flexed his talons to release the ptarmigan and peered at the contents of the nest. It never ceased to amaze him.
After nearly two months of loving care the two white eggs blotched with brown had come to life. Now, amongst the cart load of sticks and twigs, in a bowl of heather and feather, sat two fluffy, pot-bellied chicks.
They were pleased to see their father because he always brought them food but they really wanted their mother. She made the food more edible, gave them body warmth at night and shielded them from the frequent icy blasts with her wings half spread.

(To be continued)