Wildlife encounters.

They are BIG! They can stand nearly 4 ft. and have a long sharp beak, and are very good at poking them right through fish. I was definitely lucky.<br>Paul

Paul, I applaud you for trying to rescue the heron, especially considering that people who are supposed to do that kinda thing turned their backs on you andthe bird. I would have, though, at least considered something to hold the beak still. You sure don't need your mother standing over you saying "youcould put an eye out with that thing" do ya? heh<br><br>Tim - cool vid! Sure, I feel for the little deer, but that's nature/reality/life. Venison: it's what's for dinner!

after seeing that eagle vid I've gotta chime in...<br><br>was smallmouth bass fishing with my father in law on the John Day River in central washington/oregon area and while we here heading southeast we noticed adoe/fawn duo grazing along the hillside, we were watching them whilst watching our fishing poles, couple of seconds later I scope a eagle trying to fly offwith the fawn... eagle wasnt anywhere as large as that golden in the vid but damned if it wasnt determined in taking off with the fawn... Mama Doe stepped upand started attacking the eagle... after a struggle of the fittest for about 30-40 seconds (with my father in law and my jaw sitting on the bottom of the boat)the eagle flies off with nothing but a couple of ruffled feathers... no venison for it!

A few years back there was a story in our local newpaper, about a couple who where driving thru Oregon in their motorhome, they pulled over on the side of theroad to let their little Yorkie out to Pee, when he walked away from the motorhome, an eagle swooped down, grabbed him, and flew off with the poor little dogyelping all the way, end of dog. How Sad for the lady who loved him, but apparently the husband wasn't so fond of the dog, in the news story he was quotedas saying "Yessssss I hated that dog"<br><br>Michael

My father would have loved that story, Michael! My mother had a yorkie and a yorkie/silkie mix and he had a special kinda hate for the yorkie. Both were littleturd machines and my mother let them rule the roost. My father wanted to turn them into house slippers. If he were around, he'd find that story, print itout and stick it on the fridge.