The Eye of the Eagle

By Lynda Gordon

I was treating my Mum to a winter weekend on the Isle of Skye. My ulterior motive was to attempt to photograph wildlife, in particular to capture a shot of a golden eagle. On arrival at the hotel, I casually asked the receptionist if the hotel was busy, fully expecting the answer “no”, given it was November. “O yes”, she said, “we have the hockey club in this weekend”. “How jolly”, I mused, and gave it no further thought.

The next morning over a sleepy breakfast, Mum suddenly declared “there’s a big bird out there”. Envisaging an oversized seagull or an unusually large pigeon (Mum was short-sighted), I mumbled something incomprehensible and continued devouring my porridge.  “There’s another one” she proclaimed defiantly. Still sceptical, I turned round to look. To my amazement, the hotel’s large front lawn was teeming with birds of prey.  Light dawned.  It wasn’t the hockey club staying here for the weekend, but the hawking club! 

I quickly abandoned my breakfast, grabbed my camera and went outside. The star of the show was Dillon, a golden eagle. With his owner’s permission, I lay flat on the grass to photograph this resplendent creature at ground level. Dillon had completely mastered the art of the piercing stare. Arrogant, disdainful, superior, he glowered at me with his beautiful amber eyes. I never did get to photograph a golden eagle in the wild that weekend, but my unexpected encounter with Dillon more than made up for it.