Eagle Watching on the Mississippi

This morning, my mother and I set out to see eagles. The day was supposed to be sunny and almost 40 degrees; of course, it was a dreary, cloudy day that barely broke thirty degrees.

We drove out of Saint Charles and took crowded highways to cross the river in Alton. Alton is your typical midwestern river town, old and dirty—run down by time, industry, and the river itself. I can’t say much more about any of the other towns on the “River Highway,” run down and old, these towns have not well withstood the test of time. I suppose most drive by without much of a thought to them, but these types of towns always make me feel a little sad. In the pretty old brick buildings, or unique constructions to fight periodic flooding, it doesn’t take too much imagination to see what these towns once were—quaint, pretty little hamlets with charm and character. It’s sad to see that this couldn’t last.

Our first stop was Grafton, in an empty parking lot near the ferry dock. It was cold and windy, so my Mom and I sat in the car and used the binoculars to look at the clusters of trees across the fast moving Mississippi.





It took a while, but I finally spotted an eagle in a tree across the way. It was small to the image I had in my mind, but after a few scrutinizing glances it was plain to see it was an eagle. A few yards to the right were two more eagles, all just resting calmly on a seemingly inadequate branch. They seemed unperturbed by our staring and ogling. They continued to sit placidly, contemplating the muddy river below them.

We made a few more stops, including a lunch break in a cute little café in Elsah called “My Just Deserts.” Elsah, as my Mom said, is like the town time forgot. It’s a crowded small little village of old but pretty well kept buildings—an amazing array of antiquity. We caught more glimpses of eagles, usually quite far away, all sitting placidly on their scraggly tree branches.

This was the best picture I could get from our little excursion:

I have to say, I enjoyed the drive almost more than spotting the eagles. For some reason, I really love the way trees look in the winter. I like a nice horizon of trees all stretching their bare arms heavenward, or the treeless branches—curling, twisting in an almost sinister manner. The beauty of nature is stripped; the color killed until spring, and yet there is still a beauty in these trees. Hitting a surprising strip of rolling, Illinois farmland somewhere between the Illinois and Mississippi Rivers was a nice contrast to the flatness of the other side of the river. My guess is that, despite attractions like eagle watching and Pere Marquette State Park, most people wouldn’t consider this land all that pretty or scenic—especially on a gray, cold day in the middle of January, but today it was pretty in a subtle way—in a bare, naked way—the Earth stripped to her basics is still beautiful. And even better, she will bloom again in just a few months.