The Eagle's Egg

The female caught a stray bullet," Bob replied.

"Wow! A bullet. Why would someone shoot a bald eagle-the symbol of our country?" the man paused and then he smirked as something dawned on him, "Maybe some poacher wanted to take its liver or something. You know, for Chinese medicine. I hear things like this all the time. I hear gallbladders from bears go for a couple grand," the tourist said as if he had cranked into place the last color of a Rubik's cube.

"I hate to disappoint you," Bob sneered, "but it most likely was unintentional. There are stiff fines for shooting a threatened species. And furthermore, there aren't any bald eagles in China; so, I don't think that one of those Asian nostrums would call eagle livers."

"Are there bear in China?" the man said in his defense.

Bob didn't know. Studying wildlife of distant countries never appealed to him. He had enough animals to learn about on his own soil. "Yes, China is a sizable country. Some regions do have Bear populations," Bob said, hoping that his confident tone would convince the tourist to drop the subject. He knew for certain that Panda were in China; that would be his cover if the man pressed him for specifics.

"What's that one sitting on?" the tourist asked pointing to the female.

"A nest," Bob said.

"No, I mean what's it sitting on in the nest? Is that an egg?" the tourist said.

Bob chuckled. "No, the female is infertile and bald eagles don't mate in captivity," he said.

"Look closer," the man said pointing to a bulge in the nest. Bob looked. He saw grayish mound peeping at him under Myrtle's breast. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and opened the door to the eagles.

He approached the nest but Myrtle kept clucking and pecking at his hands when he reached in her direction. The male joined her. Bob closed the door.

"I'll be back in minute," Bob said.

He left the aviary. A few minutes later, he returned with thick leather gloves and two cages. The female clawed at the thick hide as he moved her from the nest. An egg the size of a fist rested in the swirled hay. Bob scowled at the sight of it. The birds scratched and thrust their beaks at him, but he deftly placed each inside its tiny coop.

"Wow! A miracle. A virgin birth from an infertile bird," the tourist teased.

"It wasn't a virgin birth. They must have had some time alone."

"I was joking," the tourist fired back.

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway. Miracle or not, we can't have it here," Bob said.

He dropped the egg on the concrete. It hit the ground with a sharp crack. Both birds hysterically flailed their wings smashing them against the bars of their cages, breaking feathers. The oblong shape wobbled on the cement floor. A pool of ichors formed at the base of the egg. Bob lifted his boot over the embryo inside the broken shell.

The tourist watched with an expression of horror. "What are you doing? Those are endangered. That's our national bird!" the tourist yelled.

"They're not endangered. They're 'threatened' and we don't have a permit or the money to hatch eagle eggs and even if we did have one. It takes over month for them to emerge. We'd have to pay people overtime.