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Up next, a story from Eileen Lyon on Eagles and more specifically two Eagle families she watched

in Arizona that couldn't be more diametrically opposed to each other.

Here's Eileen with her story one way or another.

My partner and I sat in the bass tracker on the calm waters of Sawaro Lake, actually an

impoundment of the Salt River near Scottsdale, Arizona, scanning the skies.

In this narrow section, a sheer cliff rose ahead of us and hills on both sides.

Suddenly, a bald eagle bolted like a spear from above, aiming for an American coop, placidly oblivious to its impending doom.

The male eagle clutched his prize on top of a lakeside boulder. Soon his vice-grip beak was

flinging feathers like a pillow fight gone bad, working his way to a foul meal. After getting his

fill, he seized the carcass and flapped off the rock until he'd

achieved some height. Surely we thought he'd take it to the nearby cliff nest where the female

and their nestling waited. But no, once again, as he'd done for months, he ignored them and flew away

out of sight. Dang, what a deadbeat dad that bird turned out to be.

Before taking on this contract job to observe breeding eagles for Arizona game and fish, all nest

watchers had to read up on bald eagle behavior. The standard story is that pairs mate for life, and both adults share

responsibility for nest construction, incubation, and rearing the clutch of one to three nestlings.

Once they've fledged, the parents spend roughly 10 weeks teaching them to hunt before they become

...