This Bald Eagle is one of at least two that fly through the valley where I live in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. This one surprised me by swooping down meters away from me as I read a book outdoors on a warm winter day. Springing from my post on the roof of my house, I scrambled down onto the deck and into my kitchen in a mad dash for a camera. The eagle had thankfully not left its position in a tree barely thirty feet from my house in that time. With a harsh glare radiating from the sun just short of dead center behind the eagle, it took several test shots in order to capture anything worthwhile. As I tweaked my exposure for the last time, a second eagle fell upon the first from above, flying away, taunting after a rapid pass. Before I was capable of getting a clear shot of either eagle, they were out of range. I kept my eyes on them as they gained altitude with their distance. Reaching great heights, one crested the mountains – the other returned to the valley in lazy downward spirals, ending in a graceful landing in a habitual tree several hundred meters away from my house.