Kent Durden - Gifts of an Eagle

To My Mother

who for so many years

shared her husband with an eagle

In 1971, my father, Kent Durden, sat down and began to write a book about the relationship he had witnessed over the last sixteen years between his father, Ed, and Lady, the golden eagle they had raised, studied, and filmed.

Kent had never planned or tried to write a book before. But he was inspired by the remarkable story hed been involved with over the years that the golden eagle had been such a large part of his family.

Once the manuscript was done, Kent sent it off blindly to publishers. At Simon & Schuster, an editor somehow managed to find it in a pile of submissions and was immediately enthralled. Gifts of an Eagle was published in 1972 and spent eight weeks on the New York Times bestseller list.

Kent followed Gifts of an Eagle with two other books, Flight to Freedom and A Fine and Peaceful Kingdom. He also created a film version of Gifts of an Eagle, with all the footage he and Ed had captured over those sixteen years of living with Lady. He toured with the film for the Audubon Society for several seasons, and it is now available on DVD. You can find it, along with more information and images, at www.giftsofaneagle.com.

Im very pleased to be able to make this book available again, both for readers who remember Lady and for those just discovering her story. I know youll enjoy meeting Lady and spending some time with her. We all did. I was only seven when my dad sat down to write Gifts of an Eagle, but I remember Lady clearly.

Unfortunately, Ed and Kent are no longer with us, but the story Kent tells is timeless and I am glad to introduce it to new generations with this edition.

Kristine Durden

July 2012

MANY TRUE STORIES HAVE been written describing the relationships between man and the various members of the animal kingdom that have become his devoted and loved pets. Few true stories record a relationship lasting as long as this one, and even fewer involve a creature as proud and noble as a golden eagle. This, then, is the story of Lady, who for sixteen years shared her life with a human family and gave her devoted loyalty to her master.

It is difficult for me to recall a time in my life when Lady wasnt part of the family. There are faint recollections of that brilliant spring day in 1954 when my father and I inched our way down a steep cliff, carefully lowering ourselves to a point just above a huge pile of sticks. Clinging to scrub oaks and manzanitas, we made the decision to take the final step and capture the huge nestling golden eagle that we knew rested quietly against the cliff just beneath us.

For several years we had entertained the thought of training a golden eagle for falconry. Together Dad and I had trained many hawks and falcons, and often while flying our hawks, we would see eagles in flight. We would gaze in awe at their huge size, and the thought of being able to cause an eagle to plunge from the sky at our beck and call haunted us day and night.

At that time the golden eagle was a state-protected birdnow they are federally protectedand, as such, they belonged to the People of California. In order to legally retain an eagle in captivity, we had to obtain a permit from the State Department of Fish and Game. We were thrilled when we finally received the permit. It stated that we were obtaining the eagle for educational and research purposes, to increase the publics knowledge of the golden eagle. Also in the fine print it stated bluntly that our permit could be revoked at any time without cause or reason.

Now the search for an eagles nest was begun in earnest. Dad took to the air in his small plane and began to search the country for adult eagles. It wasnt long before he spotted a pair of adult eagles soaring high over the Conejo Valley to the east of our home in Carpinteria. He joined the big birds for a while as they circled in the thermals. They seemed not to mind the company of the large red and white bird, and he often passed within a hundred feet of them without causing alarm. Then he drifted away and began a thorough search of the cliffs on the mountains around the valley. In less than an hour he covered more cliffs than a man could explore on foot in a week. At last he spotted the telltale sign; a ledge with a jumbled pile of sticks streaked with the whitewashing of years of use. He swung closer on the next pass, and as he glided by, got a glimpse of the downy nestling lying quietly in the cup of the nest, waiting for the return of its parents. The chick raised itself up to look at the big bird passing by. Dad eased the throttle open and headed for home. He planned to return from time to time to check on the size of the young bird. It was important to let the old birds feed it for as long as possible.

The training of the golden eagle was not our only goal in getting the bird. We wanted to study the intelligence and behavior of the king of birds and, above all, we wanted to record the entire story on motion-picture film. The first chapter of our film would be the training of the golden eagle.

By capturing the nestling, we knew, we were accepting the responsibility for her welfare and safety, not a thing to take lightly. I fastened the rope and held it taut as Dad made his way over the edge. It was three hundred feet to the bottom, and I kept a cautious eye on the oak that held the lifeline. I heard a low whistle as Dad got his first close view of the object of our efforts. The eagle was a nestling in name only. By her size one wouldnt classify her as a helpless infant, as the word nestling implies. She stood almost two feet high and was almost completely feathered out, with only a few downy tufts remaining around her head.

She made her defense at the back of the ledge, facing her enemy with gaping mouth and extended talons. A considerable time passed as Dad and the eagle eyed each other. Dad knew that he had to get her by the ankles, just above the large talons, before she had a chance to use her weapons. There wasnt much room to move about on the ledge, the nest being about six feet wide and four feet deep. Made up entirely of sticks and twigs piled one upon another, it represented several years of nesting activity. Every movement by Dad sent a tremor through the wobbly pile and reminded him of the three-hundred-foot drop to the valley floor.

As he eased toward the bird, she pressed her back against the cliff and stared wildly at his face. He carefully selected his precise target and with lightning speed grabbed the birds ankles. In an instant she was thrashing all around the nest, causing the whole pile to wobble threateningly. With great difficulty he finally succeeded in putting her into a gunnysack and tying a rope to it. The signal was given, and I began to pull the sack up the cliff.