Two bald eagles have taken up residence somewhere nearby.
It is a little difficult to greet the realities of life, first thing in the morning.
I stand at a window, overlooking the harbour to see all the gulls in flight. Among them is the dark, large silhouette of an eagle gliding among them. The gulls, because of their size, can usually out manoeuvre the eagle, but eventually lose strength and become sitting gulls. There is one fewer seagull in the harbour this morning.
Out over the harbour, on the top of a tall fir tree, by the white clapboard church on the cliff, the eagle sits. A murder of crows now swarms below, waiting for leftovers.
My little Halloween visitors this evening will not hold the same horror of the ancient celebration, that I was met with this morning.
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