This is the story of a bald eagle in the first person who must deal with not being in America anymore even though he thinks he still is. He must learn to cope with being the prey of humans and survive.
I soared through the sky cutting the wind like butter under my perfectly sculpted wings. My razor sharp talons were ready to feast on any small rodent I would find. I swooped lower to the ground swaying side to side, the whistles of the wind against my wings echoing deep into my ear. Suddenly a small scraping sound reached my ear. I bent my wings and dove to the ground. I heard the animal in a panicked frenzy to get away. I was gaining by the second on what I now know to be a small mouse. It slowed down as I grew nearer almost as if accepting the inevitable doom that would come to it.
I was now 50 feet away. I made a dive to the ground the wind swooshing as it made an attempt to catch up with me. My claws now extended snatched the innocent and doomed mouse. The talons dug into the poor beast as I landed. I dug my beak in pulling out the fresh meat and splattering the remains on the ground.
Suddenly a noise rang through my ears. A bullet flew just above my perfectly crafted head. I doubt this hunter knew he was messing with a bald eagle. I quickly took off and unlike the mouse would not accept the fate of dying by a predator. I spun sideways as another bullet flew through the air like lightning on a stormy night. I ran straight towards a tree as more bullets soared by.
I would not give into fate. I flew the trees making it much harder on the hunter to shoot me now. I ducked then soared through the trees and came face to face with the hunter. I flew forward with more speed than the bullets fired from his rifle. I dug my talons into his shoulder and watched as he thudded into the ground. I glided off hoping the hunter had learned his lesson about hunting the hunter.