The Eaglets Have Landed on Catalina

Appropriately enough for the Easter season, this is a story about eggs.

The story began as it ended on Friday, off the east side of Catalina Island with wildlife ecologist Peter Sharpe dangling from a Kevlar rope 200 feet above the Pacific Ocean.

His mission: to revive the population of bald eagles on the island. Two months ago, Sharpe snatched 11 eggs from the nests of five breeding pairs of eagles. On Friday, he attempted to return two young eaglets to the cliff-side nests.

An onslaught of DDT in the ocean made the bald eagle disappear from Catalina about 50 years ago, but a program at the Institute for Wildlife Studies is slowly bringing the majestic birds back.

Because of DDT, the eggs have shells that are so thin they may break when the adults sit on them to incubate. So for more than a decade, the institute has engaged in some trickery in hopes of giving the eagles a chance to survive.

Three to four days after the eggs are laid, Sharpe descends by rope to the nests, frightens the adults away and steals the eggs. He replaces the real eggs with fake eggs made from resin, sneaking away before the adult eagles fear returning to the nest because a human has been there. The real eggs are transported to the San Francisco Zoo, where they are incubated and cared for until they hatch.

“It’s deceiving the eagles to allow them to breed,” Sharpe said. “We get in and out quickly to minimize the disturbance, but we are doing what we need to do.”

Last year, none of the Catalina chicks survived. This year, 11 eggs were taken, three hatched and two eaglets survived. The hope Friday was to add those two to the resident population of 15.

The egg switching began 15 years ago, but the institute’s overall efforts to restore Catalina Island’s bald eagle population date to 1980. In that time, the institute has released 89 bald eagles on the island. Some birds have stayed, while others may have flown off to the mainland or other Channel Islands.

On Friday, Sharpe drove 35 minutes from Avalon to East Peak on the east end of Catalina Island. Traveling over bumpy dirt roads with sharp curves and drastic turns, he carried two chicks, one 10 days old, one 12 days old.

When Sharpe arrived at a prearranged landing site for the helicopter that would make the day’s mission possible, he opened a plastic pet carrier to reveal the fuzzy gray eaglets with bulging eyes. Since the fog was dense, Sharpe’s helicopter, volunteered by Airlift Construction Services, had to wait before taking off from the mainland. Sharpe and the eaglets waited too.

Sharpe, 37, admits he has a slight fear of heights, and used the time to try not to worry. He estimated that he has made about 25 helicopter trips.

Wearing his favorite belt -- brown with an eagle’s face as a belt clip -- Sharpe recalled the scariest eagle drop snafu. Six years ago his Kevlar rope detached from his harness. The timing, however, was lucky. It separated at takeoff, leaving him on the ground as opposed to plummeting through the air.

“Most people think you’re stupid when you’re doing this,” Sharpe said. “But I’d like to do this as long as possible, as long as it’s necessary.”

Unaware of the helicopter ride to come, the eaglets slept sporadically Friday morning, laying their heads on the heating pad placed in the middle of the pet carrier. They chirped softly and tried to spread their 10-inch wings, which Sharpe said will grow to 6 feet across in about eight weeks. And they ate, plucking salmon from the rubber beak of a bald eagle puppet that Sharpe wore on his right hand.

A little more than an hour later, the helicopter arrived, creating a dust storm and increasing the number of butterflies in Sharpe’s stomach.

“Bye, little guy,” said Sharpe’s wife, Donna, as he placed one eaglet into a separate carrying case lined with a brown towel.

“You’re going to have a lot of fun,” Sharpe said as he closed the brown case.

Wearing his bright yellow flight suit, Sharpe strapped on his black harness, which extends over his chest and around his thighs, and hooked the heavy yellow rope to his back. On his right side he clipped the pet carrier. After the helicopter blades started up, he gave a thumbs up and was lifted into the air, being supported by a safety officer who rides on the floor of the helicopter to guide Sharpe’s harness.

Sharpe was carried over the landing, above the winding dirt roads lined with cacti, and then he disappeared behind the peak. As he approached the nest, he recalled later, he was greeted by the mother eagle, who at first refused to leave her eggs, but finally retreated to circle near Sharpe. Her mate circled overhead, inspecting the helicopter.

“I was worried about the mother attacking him and the male attacking the ship,” said Glenn Smith, president of Airlift Construction Services, who was Friday’s pilot.

But in about 30 seconds, Sharpe and the helicopter crew defended themselves against the eagles and made the switch. Eight minutes after takeoff, Sharpe was ferried back to the landing site. He was holding the brown carrier, except this time two resin eggs were inside.

There was still one more bird to deliver, and that egg-eaglet exchange would occur many miles away, about 40 minutes later. But for the moment, after the first drop at East Peak, Sharpe was encouraged.

“She was lying on the chick before I left out of her view,” he said. “So that’s a good sign.”