Sign of the times

I made my decision. If Mara had tolerated me arriving in the landrover, getting out, shutting the door and walking right beneath him and out into the field, maybe, just maybe, he'd put up with me doing it all in reverse. With minutes to spare before the crew arrived, I retraced my steps taking care not to look directly at Mara as if I'd never noticed him. I got to the landrover, started her up and drove up the track to meet the cars arriving. It worked! Mara stayed put. As quickly as they could, Gordon and the crew got cameras out, onto tripods and ready to roll - just as Mara decided he'd waited long enough for the show to start and took off, flying straight towards and over us. Gordon was thrilled to see the chicks he'd helped tag so close again but this time time flying like proper eagles. He could see it was all working as we'd hoped it would. But were the crew ready for this close fly-by? We'll all have to tune into Autumnwatch to find out. 

Later I found both chicks and Frisa sitting together on their favourite mound. It looked, from a distance, like a happy family unit. But, as I was about to witness, looks can be deceptive. I could see both chicks opening and closing their beaks, clearly still food begging from their long-suffering mother. Occasionally their incessant calls were carried on the wind in my direction. I could almost imagine how annoying that might become if you heard it from dawn to dusk.

Suddenly, without warning, Frisa lunged at one of the chicks. In the confusion, I couldn't be sure who it was but I suspected it was Breagha. I thought it would be a quick warning to her to give the calling a break. But it was more serious than that. Frisa pinned her to the ground. Talons were locked together. Breagha was on her back with the full might of Frisa bearing down on her. It's behaviour I've never seen before. These family units are usually so tolerant but something had snapped inside Frisa and enough was enough. It can only have lasted a few seconds but in that time I heard myself saying: 'Ok Frisa, she's got the message. That's all you have to do, Let her go!' I couldn't bear to think of what might happen next if she didn't let go.

All this time, Mara was sitting next to this startling clash of his mother and sister. He was still calling. Frisa must have realised that she'd done what she needed to do, released her grip and flew off a short way. Breagha was clearly stunned by this turn of events. Was this Frisa's way of telling her offspring that it was time they started fending more for themselves? Was this eagle-speak for 'stop going on at me all the time'? Whatever it was, something irreversible had happened. All of us, the eagles and me, were in a slight state of shock. I just hoped Breagha wasn't injured in this clash. Maybe it had looked worse from a distance than it actually was. But as Frisa flew off and out of sight, soon followed by Mara leaving Breagha behind in a hunched, dejected state, I began to wonder.

By this time it was late and dusk was falling. For one young eagle, today was a turning point. A very tough lesson had been learned. Nothing could ever be quite the same again.

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

18 September 2145hrs