T
he day was finally here. For half
a year we’d watched the dark
adults appropriate for themselves
an old nest wedged atop a strong
fork in a great forest mahogany
tree, deep in the Nkumbane River Gorge
along the KwaZulu-Natal South Coast. There
they did their alterations, constructing a thick
platform of branches and sticks some 15 metres
above the river bank. Would they breed?
In early September, the male had performed
his signature mating display, shattering the
usual stillness of the dense forest. Surging way
above his regular haunt deep in the canopy, he
powered several hundred metres into the sky.
Then, folding his broad wings, he’d stoop down
at blistering speed, transforming himself from
black speck to shrieking missile, skimming the
treetops with nonchalant skill. Ten or more times
he’d repeat these dives, calling shrilly
all the while.
Surely the big female, presumably watching
these exploits with a discerning eye from her
secluded site among the leaves, could not fail
to be impressed?
And so it was, for she was seen gathering
leafy branches to snugly line the nest. And
then spent half of September and all of October
a virtual prisoner, hunkered down on their eyrie,
brooding her eggs. The male would regularly
bring her food, and occasionally assume
babysitting duties himself as she took a break to
stretch her wings, and perhaps do some hunting
of her own. Just to keep her talons in practice.
Crowned Eagle parents invest heavily in
their young. Generally, two eggs are laid every
second year. The firstborn chick, if healthy,
invariably outcompetes its younger sibling,
which dies of starvation within a few daysof birth (yes, they’re eagles, evolved in the
furnace of sheer survival to stack the odds in
favour of at least one genetic successor). Under
ideal conditions of prey abundance, or where
a juvenile is lost, a pair might breed again the
following year. Exceptionally, twins are raised- the literature contains a handful of such
instances.
No one knows exactly when the chick was
born, but from early November intriguing
reports flowed in of a bobble-headed, fuzzy,
white babe closely attended to by the huge,
dark mom. Chicks are only able to stand at
about five weeks so it wasn’t visible over the
lip of the nest from ground-level, along the
rugged and distant Gorge Trail of Umdoni
Forest Park at Pennington.
However, the Otter View Site along the easier
Molly’s Road Trail offers a distant and rather
obscured bird’s-eye view of the nest from the
top of the gorge. (Eagles are particular about
their privacy). With some bodily contortions,
much squinting through binoculars and a lot
of patience, we could confirm that the eaglet
had landed.
Unbeknown to us at the time, this was an
extra-special babe. Even more so than any other
of its Near Threatened kind. For its mother had
been ringed as a chick in 2014 at San Lameer
some 72 kilometres down the coast to the
south, and this was her first hatchling. In fact,
this was the first second-generation research
chick recorded born in Dr Shane McPherson’s
long-term study on the urban ecology of African
Crowned Eagles in the Greater Durban and
coastal areas of KwaZulu-Natal.
With increasing excitement, growing
impatience, and not a little anxiety, weOPPOSITE: The piebald African Crowned Eagle chick is safely back in its nest after the ringing, but not happy
with the intrusion. ABOVE LEFT: On a not-too-distant tree, the mother eagle watches, silent and forbidding.
TOP RIGHT: Wade Whitehead, CEO of FreeMeKZN, prepares raptor specialist Tammy Caine for her long ascent
to the nest. ABOVE Tammy is hoisted up to the nest to bag and bring the chick down for ringing.http://www.countrylife.co.za 071 September 2019