This is a story with a happy ending. It's about how in the space of 12 hours, seven people converged from three counties to save two baby bald eagles from certain death.

But it starts out sad.

Before

Since February, Steve Klaven and I had been observing several nests on a stretch of the Wisconsin River for Madison Audubon's Bald Eagle Nest Watch (BENW) program.

The Bald Eagle nest, with an adult incubating, March 20, 2022. *Photo by Erin Kapp*

The nest was located on a strip of DNR land around Sauk City. We'd monitored this nest every week since March 20.

Three eaglets had hatched; one disappeared after about a month, but the other two were getting big and starting to have their real feathers come in, replacing their baby fuzz. By late April the chicks were active, vocalizing often, and all looked hopeful.

Adult and three fuzzy chicks, April 9, 2022. *Photo by Erin Kapp*

Then everything went downhill.

May 1: I can only see 1 or 2 nestlings; there’s no adults at the nest, though one is a little ways away.

May 4: The chicks are quiet and still. Steve doesn’t see signs of feeding or activity, but there’s an adult circling above.

May 7: An adult brings food to the nest and the eaglets eat it. I am thrilled.

May 12: It’s so, so hot. Steve photographs the eaglets visibly panting in the nest; there’s no shade at all.

The two eaglets on May 12, panting in the nest. *Photo by Steve Klaven*

May 14: I watch the nest for two hours, and only ever see one eaglet. It staggers around the nest, falling when it tries to stand, and when it does manage to stay up it calls and calls for a parent that never comes.

I sent a heartbroken email to Steve, along with Drew Cashman and Brenna Marsicek, the BENW coordinators, positive one of the eaglets had died and the other was about to follow. Was there anything we could do? Was it bad enough that we could intervene?

Drew: I was at my son’s martial arts class checking my email when I saw an email from Erin. There was one eaglet in the nest in really rough shape.

What to do? Everything I had learned and read is to leave it to nature in situations like this. Could we even pull off something like that? I was expecting the nest would fail soon.

It was a difficult day.

May 18

It’s been 12 days since we last observed the eaglets being fed. And in the meantime there's been a heat wave—several days of 90+ degrees and sunshine. With no shade at all available in the nest, the eaglets had been near-literally roasting.

5:30am

Steve wakes up to make his 45-minute drive to the nest site, fully expecting to get his heart broken.

Steve: I knew I was probably going out to the nest for the last time, most likely to document a fatal conclusion to my and Erin's series of observations.

7:00am

You can't see this nest right away from your car. You have to walk about half a mile into the field before you can catch sight of the nest between the trees.

So Steve sets out. The weather is beautiful, but considering what's at the end, that's very little consolation.

Then he sees the nest.

Steve: I was shocked to see one very tired, hungry, mottled eaglet still alive, patiently waiting. I waited along with it for an hour, hoping a parent would arrive with food, but then snapped a few photos with my iPhone and drove home. I sent Erin, Drew, and Brenna a sad email, thinking there was no way that eaglet survives another few days. I was in tears.

Steve's email hits my inbox at 9:16am. Reading it, I'm in tears, because it means the eaglet I saw Saturday is still suffering.

Drew: I checked my email expecting one from Steve that the nest had failed, but to my surprise the eaglet was still alive. Still no adults present and still little hope that it would survive too much longer. I thought to myself, “We have to do something!”

10:04am

Drew sends what is probably among the top 5 emails I've ever received: I think we are going to try to rescue the eaglet. Brenna and I are working on it right now.

Steve and I are elated.

Meanwhile, Drew is facing a number of logistical hurdles, the biggest one being federal law.

Bald Eagles aren't an official endangered species anymore, but they have their own protective statute, in addition to the ones that apply to migratory birds in general. And one of the many forbidden activities is climbing a tree and grabbing a baby eagle out of its nest.

The vast majority of the time, that’s a great rule. But this is one of the rare occasions where ‘grabbing a baby eagle’ would do it far more good than harm.

Luckily, BENW has a strong relationship with Marge Gibson of the Raptor Education Group, Inc (REGI) in Antigo, Wisconsin.

Drew: I picked up the phone and dialed REGI. If anyone could assist it was Marge. Marge and I talked about it, and we both agreed trying to rescue the eaglet out of the nest was the right thing to do.

I called Beth [Martin], as I knew she had many connections with arborists that could potentially help. Shortly after, I received a text from Marge. She had permission from the USFWS.

It was a go to try to rescue the eaglet.

Bald Eagle nests are usually between 50 and 125 feet off the ground. This is much too high for a random person to climb safely, and if you’re at the point of attempting a nest rescue, there’s way too much at stake to let someone inexperienced try.

Meanwhile, in Geneva

Beth woke up feeling under the weather, and is all set up for a quiet day at home with her husband, Ken.

Then Drew calls.

While Beth and Ken have volunteered for BENW for only two years, they’re avid eagle-lovers who have been monitoring eagle nests in southeastern Wisconsin with a small group of friends for a long time.

Beth knows a number of arborists in southeastern Wisconsin from bird banding projects, and after Drew reaches out she starts looking for one who’s willing to go to Sauk City to rescue the eaglet.

After leaving messages with six of her contacts, she decides on a whim to see if she can find someone closer to the nest. A quick Google later she's leaving a voicemail for Diederich Tree Care in Sauk City.

Zach Engelking picks up the phone midway through. He and his team, Tom Bird, and Ben Joutras, are immediately and enthusiastically ready to help.

Beth: Ken said, 'We don't have to drive all the way up there, though,' and I was like: Don't we? Drew couldn't be there, and I had made the arrangements with the arborist, so I felt I had to be there.

Marge also connects Drew with John Kraak, a longtime REGI volunteer and experienced bird handler.

John is on board to drive up from Madison to assist. He'll be able to advise the arborists on how to handle the eaglet, evaluate its condition, and transport it to REGI, a two-hour drive from Sauk City.

11:45am

The key parts are in place, and the rescue is scheduled for 2pm. All that's left is to find someone to guide the crew to the nest.

This whole time I'd been assuming that would be Steve, who's usually free weekdays. But today of all days he isn't, so I inform my coworkers that I will be abandoning them for the afternoon (unlike the eaglet).

I'm immensely relieved that I can play an active role in the rescue—much better than sitting there refreshing my email—but my stress levels absolutely skyrocket.

The thing is, I have already watched an adult eagle die at this site. It was maybe one of the parents of this nest, probably the result of highly-pathogenic avian influenza, and definitely devastating.

And there’s still a chance the eaglet could die before the rescue team gets there. Or, worst of all, attempting the rescue could be too dangerous and we would have to leave the eaglet behind, knowing it would likely die a pretty horrible death.

But that might not happen. We might be able to actually save this eaglet. So we have to try.

The team assembles (eventually)

The entry gate to the nest site is in a weird location, so I get there half an hour early so I can confirm to everyone else that they're in the right place. I pass the time trying to identify nearby birds by sound, with limited success, and wait.

And wait.

2:10pm

There is no one here except me and about 30 cows, who are friendly but not equipped for eaglet rescue. I text Drew, who contacts Beth. He texts back:

They walked across the pasture and are at the nest.

This is exceptionally annoying. How did they get there without passing through here?!

2:20pm

I am definitely the only person at this nest.

I call Drew, who calls Beth, who calls me.

Beth: I was wondering where you were, because you'd said you were going to be there early. We walked across this farmer's freshly-plowed field to get to what we thought was the tree, and they had lines up and were getting ready to climb when we got Drew's call.

The tree climbing crew discusses options. *Photo by Beth Martin*

All six others are at the wrong nest (there’d been a GPS mixup), but they’re only a few minutes away. In short order everyone has regrouped and joined me and the cows at the gate.

Plan A: Climb the tree and grab it?

The Diedrich team examines the nest tree, and the prognosis is grim.

First off, the tree is dead, which is bad for climbing because now it's brittle.

It’s also an ash tree, so it’s prone to splitting, and the local pileated woodpeckers apparently love it, given all the large holes.

Then, assuming someone even climbs this questionably-intact tree, the branches supporting the nest don't really lead up alongside the nest, making it difficult to reach into the nest and, for example, grab a baby eagle.

Zach tells me, Beth, Ken, and John that he really doesn't want anyone to climb the tree.

So the easy Plan A is out. Before we start investing in more complicated plans, Zach asks us to confirm the eaglet is still alive.

Proof of life

I head out a couple dozen yards and sure enough, there's a brown lump showing over the edge of the nest.

From previous observations, I know that if the eaglets are fully lying down, even at their current size, they don't stick up above the edge of the nest. So for a little round head to be visible—especially when I'm close by, so the angle up is very sharp—the eaglet has to be at least partially sitting up. Which means it's alive.

I point it out to Ken and he uses his super bird camera to get a picture and then zooms in.

Its eyes are open.

Plan B: Bucket lift

The eaglet is still with us, and Zach floats the idea of a bucket lift.

It would clearly be the safest way to access this nest; the challenge would be getting it here.

Given the terrain, it doesn't seem like a viable plan, really, but I decide to check out a nearby external gate to see if there's direct road access and also to walk off some feelings.

Conclusion: a bucket lift isn't getting anywhere near this gate.

As I trudge back, I see everyone back at the nest tree all gathering together in a little group. I'm immediately worried that this is everyone meeting up to decide to call it off.

But they disperse again, and as I get nearer Beth looks over and says:

"Erin, you missed it!"

I missed what?

She points at John.

He is, inexplicably, holding an eaglet.

A discovery

While I was off looking at the gate, Beth and Ken had resumed searching the area, looking for the bodies of an adult and/or the other two eaglets. Beth, poking around some brambles, nearly trips on something.

It's an eaglet.

A live eaglet.

Beth: I stared at it and it stared at me. It feels like it took several minutes but I am sure it was fleeting seconds before I yelled out “We have a live eaglet here!” No one said anything. So I yelled again. Ken says everyone was just looking toward me but I had my back to them. I yelled it a third time saying “People, we have a live bird here!”

Later when I asked Ken why no one was talking, he said everyone looked back up at the nest as though I had to be wrong because they could still see it up there! No one could put together in that moment that there were two eaglets.

Ken went to get a towel to wrap the bird in and I moved a step closer to it which it did not like. It fluttered but really had no energy to do anything else, then John came running in through all the sharp brambles and nearly wrestled it up from the ground! It was a bit startling to both the eaglet and myself.

The surprise eaglet that was laying on the ground! *Photo by Beth Martin*

The eaglet is, bizarrely, not in terrible shape. It doesn't have any obvious injuries, which is unexpected for a bird that can't fly yet flung itself out of a nest 50 feet in the air. It's thin, but it has a little moisture in its mouth so it's not totally dehydrated.

This eaglet waits out the rest of this rescue mission in a nice, relaxing cardboard box.

Plan C: Fell the tree

Buoyed by the discovery of the ground eaglet, ideas for getting the nest eaglet resume.

Zach relays the arborists’ new plan: fell the nest tree into another, nearby tree. Then climb that tree to get the eaglet out of the nest, which will now be mostly sideways.

This sounds like a great plan to everyone. Not only will none of the climbers have to risk their lives climbing this horrible tree, but any eagles that want to nest in this territory in the future will have to build a new nest. (A good thing long-term, given the state of this tree. The eagles can thank us later.)

But this is DNR land, so we have to get permission before we start cutting down trees. Drew makes contact and their response is, in essence: we don't care what you do to the tree, but because there's a bald eagle nest in it, you have to get federal permission as well.

It's around 4pm now, and the chances of getting those federal permissions in time to rescue the eaglet today seem… low.

Felling the tree can't be the main plan. Brainstorming resumes. (My contribution: we find someone with a giant ladder.)

Plan D: Climb the tree and grab it, redux

A bald eagle nest can weigh a ton, metaphorically and literally, so despite all its issues the nest tree is managing to hold up around 2,000 lbs.

At this point, that's good enough for Tom.

Tom: When I started to climb the tree my thoughts weren't all that different then just a regular day at the office! Although I was not too proud to walk away if the risks were too great, right from the start I sort of knew in the back of my mind that unless things were really looking bleak, I would somehow get the bird. This was a task I REALLY wanted to complete.

Zach informs all of us non-arborists that we need to back off so debris/the tree doesn't maybe fall on our heads, and we retreat to the side where we have the best view of the eaglet. The eaglet is still not doing much.

Tom scales the nest tree. *Photo by Beth Martin*

Tom, on the other hand, is working hard.

Tom: Typically if we were removing a tree in this condition, I would have been able to remove any/all obstacles (branches and limbs) in the way on my way up, so that was a bit of an added complication right from the start.

Around the point where Tom is working on getting up alongside the nest, not just under it, I hear Ken ask Zach: "What is there to catch him if that [branch] breaks?"

Zach: "Nothing."

It's not a large branch.

Tom approaches the nest. *Photo by Beth Martin*

But all of this activity at its level is enough to finally rouse the eaglet. It moves away from Tom, to the edge of the nest that Ken, Beth, John, and I are standing closest to.

Now the eaglet's on the move. An arborists’ gear bag is up in the tree, ready to be an eaglet container.

Tom's situation remains precarious.

Tom: When I finally peeked over the edge of the nest and saw the bird, I was a bit overwhelmed with skepticism.

How on Earth was I ever going to be able to reach this bird that wanted nothing to do with me and was as far away from me as it could possibly get? If I do somehow reach it, how am I going to manage the bird with only one hand while having only one hand to get myself lowered back down over the edge of the nest? Am I then going to be able to get myself into a position where I can get it safely into the bag?

And then of course there was the nagging question of whether or not the parts of the tree that I was tied to and standing on would be able to handle the stress of all this!

That's when we have a new idea.

Plan E: Get the eaglet to jump

It sounds bad, but: the eaglets had started doing practice flaps a couple weeks back, and they had some real wing feathers coming in. The other one made it to the ground unscathed, so there seems to be enough wing development that they don't just drop like a stone.

If the eaglet jumps, John can just scoop it off the ground and carry it away to REGI. Even if it gets a little injured, it'll probably still be better off.

And most importantly, if the eaglet jumps, Tom can get the heck out of this tree.

For a few minutes, it looks like the eaglet is going to do it. It's gotten up, but is so weak that it's just constantly wobbling. It gets all the way on the very very tippy edge of the nest and starts lifting its wings, like it's thinking about it.

It wobbles some more.

I plead out loud with it to jump, telling it about the endless fish, shade, and other joys that await it at REGI.

It almost does it.

Then it retreats toward the center of the nest.

The eaglet considers jumping, but ultimately retreats to the center of the nest. *Photo by Beth Martin*

Plan F: Climb the tree and grab it, third time’s the charm

Here is the thing about holding a bald eagle, or any raptor: the beak isn't the main thing you have to worry about.

Yes, they eat with their beak. But they kill prey and fight other eagles with their talons. Your main concern needs to be containing the talons so it can't use them to rip your throat out.

Once you have control of its feet, then you can focus on not getting a beak to the eye.

Suddenly, faintly, we can hear Tom: "I got a leg."

This is it.

A few moments later, Zach says: "He has two legs!"

Tom now has one hand holding an agitated eaglet, which leaves him one hand for climbing out of the nest, wrangling the bucket while he tries to get the eaglet inside, and general not-falling-out-of-the-tree purposes.

From my position on the ground, all I can see is part of the bucket and part of Tom's legs. There is a short eternity in which there is a lot of motion.

And then Zach says: "It's in the bucket!"

Tom: I didn't have many reservations about actually grabbing the eaglet. I would have been much more hesitant if I hadn't seen John handling the other eaglet on the ground. I was surprised and very encouraged by how docile that one was.

It was also really helpful that I had a dearly loved pet cockatiel as a kid. Having spent lots of time with Garnet gave me a good informal education in avian anatomy and made me familiar with things like how the wings should be folded to avoid injury.

Ben and Tom lower the bucket, and John runs over to assess the eaglet. It’s a little smaller than its sibling, thin, and a little more dehydrated. But overall John thinks it has a strong chance of recovery.

I shed a few more joyful-relieved tears but mostly stare at the eaglet like it’ll evaporate if I take my eyes off it.

It's 4:30pm.

Homeward bound

We pack up, hike out, and John puts the second eaglet in the box for their trip up to REGI in Antigo.

Once the eaglets are huddled up together, it feels real to me. The whole afternoon has been so far out of my normal experience that it's had a kind of dreamlike quality to it.

Two eaglets ready for transport to REGI. *Photo by Beth Martin*

But now the eaglets are here, in front of me, in this box. They’ll soon be on their way to an excellent rehabber who will care for them. They might live, when before they would have certainly died.

No one rushes off. We exchange contact information, handshakes, and hugs, and talked over the (bizarre, miraculous) events of the afternoon.

We were very lucky, in many ways.

Lucky that all our personalities meshed, so we were able to laugh off the opening location mix-up, then keep coming up with new plans as they were thwarted one after the other.

Lucky that the weather was beautiful, so it was logistically feasible to stay out in the field for three hours and as safe to interact with the nest tree as it could be.

Lucky that all of us were in a position to step away from our normal lives to be there, with only a few hours' notice.

Lucky that the eaglets were as determined to live as we were to save them.

Epilogue

A new life

John and the eaglets reached Antigo at 10:30 that night. Marge immediately evaluated them, and found them to be emaciated but otherwise apparently well.

After a few days in biosecurity (with meals hand-fed by REGI volunteers), the eaglets were declared free of highly-pathogenic avian influenza (HPAI) and placed with a foster eagle parent.

If all goes well, they will not imprint on humans at all, and REGI will be able to release them back into the wild.

You can follow their progress on REGI's Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/RaptorEducationGroupInc

What happened to the parents?

We don't know and probably never will. We're still waiting for the HPAI test result on the adult eagle that died there in April, but even once we have that, we can't be sure that the eagle was one of the parents of this nest.

In all of our observations of this nest, we only saw a parent bring food twice. Considering the death of the smallest eaglet relatively early on, Steve and I think that the parents were struggling to fully provide for the nest from the start.

The nest is in prime territory near the Wisconsin River, so there shouldn't have been a shortage of potential prey. If I had to guess I would say HPAI or some other illness, like lead poisoning.

How can I become deeply invested in the personal lives of some bald eagles?

Nest monitoring is great and I highly recommend it, but Beth would like to point out that maintaining some emotional distance is probably the smarter move. Evidence: this entire story.

Learn more about the Bald Eagle Nest Watch here: https://madisonaudubon.org/bald-eagle-nest-watch

Written by Erin Kapp, BENW volunteer, with input from Steve Klaven and Beth Martin, BENW volunteers; Drew Cashman and Brenna Marsicek, BENW organizers; and Tom Bird, Diederich Tree Care.

Cover photo by Beth Martin