Baby Eagles  I'm at a house, which may be my brother Wally's. I'm looking at fishing gear in the garage. Wally shows me the big blue backpack he told me about in the garage. It is nice. It has an air-filled plastic tube as a cushion that goes around one's neck to cushion the weight of a canoe. I put the pack on and fasten the straps. Wally has some stuff in the pack. He has me step into two plastic bags and strap the bags to the pack. He says it will be easier to carry. I find difficult to walk like this: I can't take a full stride. Wally has a briefcase-like pack, which I put on. He will give it to me. There is a woman there. I pick up a pair of red rubber rain pants with rubber stocking feet. I turn the pants inside out, then inside in. I look at the fishing gear on the wall. There is no good fishing line. There is a huge spool of pink and yellow fly-fishing line. There's a lot of old fishing gear, one of my dad's big cork bobbers, and a lot of jiggle sticks. My aunt Willow Redding's friend Paul is there. I ask him if he had a good time at the Brimson Picnic. He says there was too much meat there: nothing to eat. He sys he didn't have a piece of the Caber, which is the hog. One or two cameras fall off the little shelf. I pick up one of the cameras and start taking photographs. I use a tiny one-inch by three-quarter inch camera. There are two orange, brown, and gold hawks or eagles flying about in the sky, fluttering and losing feathers. My uncle Dannie Redding is there. He walks towards the birds and whistles, holding out his arm. One bird lands on his arm. The other bird he picks up from the side of a telephone pole. He sets the birds down on the ground. One of the eagles gives birth to a young eagle, and then a second, and a third. There are no eggs, and the young are rather large. They are wet and slimy when they emerge from the mother, but quickly become dry and fluffy. They are about the size of the older birds, but puffier.