Schiess: Eagle vs. Goose Mud wrestling to the death

Preface – By spending a lot of time in the outdoors, eventually you will an observer into some of life’s shows, including pain, violence and even death. I have been blessed to witness (and record) some of these scenes of natural reality. Some of these happen a long distance away from me and the photos are not very good, but they show and document what happened; and they verify that I am not pulling your leg. Any unbelievable experience without photo documentation will not be submitted because we live in a “Doubting Thomas” age when everything needs to be verified by photos. Those unverified experiences will go in my personal journal.

Driving through a rain-soaked Camas National Wildlife Refuge seemed to be a waste of time as most of the wildlife and birds were securely tucked away under some vegetation – except for a few waterfowl. They love foul weather.

As I was about to leave the refuge, a large brown diving bird flashed past the nose of my truck. I glanced out of my side window as a Golden eagle was diving toward a Canadian goose resting on a muddy empty pond. A cloud of feathers flew as the two collided in the heavy rain. The goose was flipped on its back as the eagle rolled several times through the sticky mud before coming to a stop.

The goose appeared to have been injured, struggling but unable to right itself while the muddy eagle sloshed its way back to its targeted prey. Straddling the goose it first attacked the head, but the goose finally got a wing free and started clubbing the eagle and a wrestling match ensued. With its strong neck and feet still mobile, the goose tried to defend itself, but as it got weaker, the eagle began to pluck the exposed breast.

Once the breast was mostly plucked, the eagle began to tear off chunks of skin and meat from the still live goose. Finding some strength from the weakened body, the goose clubbed the eagle hard enough to roll it across the slimy mud one more time.

Not willing to take any more beating, the eagle struggled to drag its mud-caked body a few feet away from its meal and waited. Several times it tried to fly off but the magical flight feathers were too caked in mud to work. It sat there looking like a skeleton with sunken eyes as the goose finally succumbed to its injuries. Yet hunger was not a big enough draw to get the eagle to approach the body.

I was late after watching the battle for 45 minutes and headed home, leaving the two battlers in the mud – one still alive and the other’s lifeless body being pelted by the rain.

The next afternoon found me back to see the battle ground. The sun was shining, the mud was dry, the eagle was gone and the breast bone of the goose was being picked clean by scavengers – four magpies and a Bald eagle.

Life had returned to normal in the marshes of Camas as a lone Canadian goose called for its lost mate. Oh, the realities of life in the marsh.

During the wrestling match, I thought of trying to intervene but failed to do so for many reasons, none of them good. But the best reason was that it might be a naughty goose from Idaho Falls that makes all the messes along the Greenbelt for people to step or sit in and the cleanup crew had hired the eagle as a hitman.

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