I devoted a barrel to each,
and down they both came, fluttering, whirling, and uttering cries that
Wilson describes as something like a maniacal laugh. One lodged in the
top of a tall hemlock, and stuck; the other came flapping and crashing
through another tree until stopped by the lower limbs, where it remained.
I now saw that their distance had been so great that I had merely
disabled them, and I began reloading, but I was so wild from excitement
and exultation that I put in the shot first. Of course my caps only
snapped, and the eagle in the hemlock top, recovering a brief renewal of
strength after the shock of his wound, flew slowly and heavily away, and
fell on the ice near the centre of the river. I afterward learned that it
was carried off by some people on an ice-boat. The other eagle, whose wing
I had broken, now reached the ground, and I ran toward it, determined that
I should not lose both of my trophies. As I approached I saw that I had an
ugly customer to deal with, for the bird, finding that he could not escape,
threw himself on his back, with his tail doubled under him, and was
prepared to strike blows with talons and beak that would make serious
wounds, I resolved to take my game home alive, and after a little thought
cut a crotched stick, with which I held his head down while I fastened his
feet together. A man who now appeared walking down the track aided me in
securing the fierce creature, which task we accomplished by tying some
coarse bagging round his wings, body, and talons.
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