Papa shields Freedom and Dragon from afternoon sun. The eagle parents share all duties of parenthood.

SACRAMENTO REGION, CA (MPG) - Months before this 249th anniversary of the United States independence, the American River bald eagles hatched two new eaglets.

Because of their rarity in these parts and because their species is America’s most celebrated icon, our local Mama and Papa Bald have a national following. When they built their nest in 2016, it was considered the closest to Sacramento in recorded history. The couple’s suburban success has since reflected the recovery of a species from near extinction.

I was photographing “The Balds” even before I saw them stick foundation twigs in a selected pine. Next spring, two eaglets hatched. Local school children named the babies Peekaboo and Poppy.

Officially, the 2025 babies are recorded as eaglets 20 and 21. Unofficially, and for my own blog, I call them Freedom and Dragon. The names honor Dragon Freedom, the SpaceX capsule that flew to the rescue of stranded NASA astronauts in March.

Raptor rumble. A territorial osprey flies to the attack during one of Freedom's first river crossings.

The eaglets have also achieved magnificent flight. Precocious alpha Freedom beat her projected launch date by days. No fuss, no preamble.

“It’s like she woke up, ate breakfast and decided to jump off a branch,” said an observer.

More tentative, brother Dragon made a maiden passage more than a week later.

Every day now, river trail hikers see these juveniles in harum-scarum flight. But in contrast to accidental flops, falls and misplaced fledglings of previous seasons, the 2025 nursery has been almost accident-free, as of press time.  

A soap opera drama unfolded when magpies nested in the tree that the Balds claimed nine years ago. As magpie chicks hatched, their aggressive parents dive-bombed the big raptors. Birds that top the food chain can evidently deal with problematic neighbors. One day, there were baby magpies in a nest upstairs. Next day, there were none. Their parents were also evicted.

At nine weeks, Dragon took a tumble into lower nest infrastructure. Encouraged by his sister, he managed to scramble back to safety. The parents did not intervene. Survival lessons begin at home. On one of her first flights, Freedom was pursued by an angry osprey. This time, Mama sped to the fray.  Feathers flew and the abuser fled.

The siblings grew from hatchlings to adult size and flew by 12 weeks old. Still building muscle, they’re now consuming more energy than ever. The parents are run-ragged to feed them. From river shallows, ducks disappear daily. Bluff-dwelling squirrels scamper at their own peril. Snakes, rats and voles ascend in yellow talons. Most juvenile eagle deaths occur from starvation in their first year. To fuel their chances, Bald parents introduce their babies to a vast river smorgasbord.

Clad in baby down at three weeks old, the hatchlings grow to adult-size by their 10th week and fly at 12 weeks.

Last week, when I left the bluff in near-darkness, the white-headed providers were staking out a distant beach for waterfowl.

Yelling food anxiety, the juveniles flew to hurry them. Mama’s scold sent them packing. Stealth is impossible with screaming kids. Mewling like kittens, they retreated a half-mile. Through dusk and distance, young eagle eyes monitored the hunters’ every move.

In a provisioned utopia, Freedom and Dragon can’t yet know their parents will soon urge them from the family pantry and toward independence. Love deals harsh lessons. The strong survive.

God bless the offspring of our national bird and God Bless America.

To protect the eagle family, the nest location is not revealed in this story.