One day I'll fly away Part 3

I was used to handling eaglets from the nest when they were being ringed at 4-5 weeks old and even at the satellite or wing tagging stage when they're usually 8-9 weeks old. But what lay before me was a totally different ball game. This was a fully grown eagle who had tasted freedom and was not about to surrender it lightly. Maybe it was just too risky to attempt it alone. If one talon pierced something critical I could be in big trouble so far from help. Maybe I should just leave him in peace for one more night on the hill and return at dawn with someone who was used to handling wild eagles. Then I looked at him one more time. He had started to shiver - perhaps from shock, perhaps from the cold and wet. With the next downpour racing towards us across the sea loch I now seriously doubted if he'd even survive one more night.

Right or wrong, I'd made my decision and returned quickly to the Landrover for something to carry him in and something to occupy his talons with. I slid and slithered my way down and then back up the hill where the single-file sheep tracks were now running like burns in spate.  First, I carefully placed my jacket over his head and then let him grab some hessian sacking to keep those dagger-like talons fully occupied. Then slowly and very gently, I eased him head first into the same large holdall bag that we use to lower chicks from the nest for tagging safely on the ground. I think he realised at that point that the game was up and I felt the fight going out of him. Now I was even more concerned: a lively eagle still had spirit, a chance of survival. A defeated eagle was in trouble. There was no time to lose.

I felt a huge surge of relief as I finally closed the zip on the bag, leaving a small gap for air and confident that none of his feathers had been damaged in the process. The sight of me staggering down the muddy hillside in the rain and dusk, as fast as I could safely go, clutching a holdall with an eagle in it, must have made for a bizarre sight. Once back at the road, some hurried phone calls and emergency plans were put in place. The next few hours were a complete blur but before we knew it, our young eagle was being checked, assessed and then whisked away into the expert care of the Scottish SPCA.

Later that night I collapsed on the sofa with a beer and relived the traumatic events of the day: the first phone call, the fruitless search, the atrocious weather, the eventual discovery, the doubts and the final rescue. And I marvelled at and was grateful for the expertise, knowledge and support from local raptor experts like Matt Wilson and the dedication of SSPCA Inspectors like John McAvoy who raced to the terminal to meet the VIP cargo off the ferry. Also at the rendezvous point was a driver from the SSPCA wildlife hospital at Middlebank who had driven across Scotland from Fife in the east to Oban in the west. Within just a few hours of me zipping up the bag on the hillside, our now weak young eagle was in the calm and warmth of the wildlife hospital and, even more amazingly, had already been seen by one of their brilliant and talented vets. After a long day, Dr Romain Pizzi was on his way home from treating exotic animals at Edinburgh Zoo when he was alerted to the arrival of the eagle and diverted to Middlebank. I would receive his assessment the next day.

An injured and poorly Kellan was now in the best possible hands - at the Scottish SPCA - photo John McAvoy/SSPCA

For now, the eagle was hanging in there - just - and was transferred to a quiet, sheltered and screened aviary to recover from his journey and stress. He even ate a little - something fresh and nutricious. It was probably his first proper food for days. I suspected his parents had been dropping food for him nearby on the hill but his injured state would have made it harder and harder for him to reach it. As I hit the hay that night, I wondered what news would await me in the morning. None of us could be completely confident that he would survive the night.

Puffers in Salen Bay - Photo Debby Thorne

 The next morning, catching up on long forgotten admin, the 'phone rang. It was the SSPCA vet with his initial assessment. It wasn't good news. The young eagle's humerus was fractured in his right wing, one leg had a hairline fracture and he had a "massive bone infection" possibly resulting from the wound on his broken wing. I thought Romain's next words would be to suggest that it would be kinder if  the young eagle was put to sleep. He had been through too much already and an eagle with a broken wing probably had little chance of recovery. But I was wrong: "He's severely underweight and seriously injured but he's also a fine, strong bird and I think it's worth a try. No guarantees. It'll be a long journey but I think he deserves a second chance. We'll see what we can do and I'll be in touch". And with that he was gone. I put the phone down and looked out of the office window at the gulls floating about above Salen Bay. Against all the odds, our eagle had made it through the night and was about to start his treatment of anti-biotics for the infection and later intricate surgery to fix his broken bones.

An Xray of Kellan's fractured humerus Photo courtesy of Dr Romain Pizzi/SSPCA

For young Kellan, it would be a frightening and stressful time but at least he was eating. That had to be a good sign didn't it? It would be a very long road back and the vet's words were never far away from our thoughts: "No guarantees".

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

Part 4 will follow shortly