SUNLIGHT BATHED the golden eagle’s half-opened wings, making them appear to be liquid bronze. Katie Bergstrom steadied the sixteen-pound bird on her leather gauntlet, facing him into the cool mid-morning breeze. She stood on the grassy floor of a wide valley, the magnificent Teton Range nearby. The sky was a fierce cobalt blue, the sun glaring at the snowy slopes.

Katie felt Sam’s eagerness to fly, his round yellow eyes transfixed on the sky above. He loved getting out of his mew, or cage, and flying the familiar territory near the main highway leading out of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Giving him a smile, Katie said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Just one more moment, Sam...” and spotted Donna, her foster mother, standing a quarter mile away. Her mother held up her hand, a signal for Katie to go ahead and release the raptor.

Every morning, except on days when it was raining or snowing, her educational raptor was flown. These were raptors with a medical condition that did not allow them to be set free in the wild. Golden eagles were large, and Katie could feel the weight of the bird. Her arm started to ache. His curved talons gripped the thick leather of her glove. Sam’s black pupils became pinpricks in the field of gold. He flapped his wings, opening them fully, ready to launch off her arm.

Katie didn’t know who looked forward to these flights more: her or Sam. “Okay,” she said in a quiet tone, “off you go....” and she heaved her arm and shoulder upward and forward in order to successfully launch the raptor.

Sam knew her body’s signal. He quickly unfurled his massive seven-foot wingspan. With a snap of his wings, he lifted away from her glove, piercing eyes focused on the sky above.

Katie felt instant relief from his weight. Gusts of wind created by Sam’s massive wings swirled around her head. Her shoulder-length black hair, tied into a ponytail, lifted momentarily away from her back. The wind buffeted her and her heart swelled with joy as Sam climbed into the sky. The five-year-old golden eagle made powerful sweeping motions with his wings. The sun glinted off his dark brown feathers. Remembering her love of Greek mythology, Katie saw Sam as a modern-day Icarus heading straight into the sun. Unlike the Greek youth, whose waxy wings were unable to withstand the heat of the sun, Sam’s feathers wouldn’t melt. And the eagle wouldn’t fall to earth and die, as Icarus had.

Looking across the grassy, rolling field, she saw Donna witnessing Sam’s power-climb into the near-freezing morning air. Like herself, Donna had an eagle license, a very rare certificate given to raptor rehabilitators across the U.S.A. Only falconers who had this valued license could actually fly any type of eagle found in the country. Katie waved joyfully to the forty-nine-year-old redhead who stood downrange. Donna waved back.

A thrill went through Katie. She felt the weight on her shoulders lift as Sam climbed higher and higher. Eagles were known to fly over ten thousand feet high in the wild. Sam wouldn’t do that because he knew Donna had a juicy meat morsel waiting for him on the top of her gauntlet.

A gentle sigh issued from Katie’s lips. This was her favorite morning routine: flying her raptors. Not all of them could fly, of course, because they’d been injured in one way or another. But those that could, she flew daily unless the weather hampered her efforts. Squinting against the sun, she saw Sam level off at about five thousand feet. He began to glide as he discovered invisible columns of heat rising from the green earth. Early June could bring sudden snow squalls to this part of Wyoming. The Grand Tetons made their own weather and raptors would not fly in rain or snow. They had no eyelid to close in order to protect their eyes from the harsh elements. Instead, until the weather cleared enough for them to hunt, they were earthbound.

The radio on her belt sputtered to life. It was a necessary form of communication between falconers who were often a mile or more apart when flying a raptor.

“Sam’s flying high today,” Donna said with a laugh.

Grinning, Katie pulled the radio from her belt. “Isn’t he, though? I think three days of rain and snow has left him feeling a little frustrated in his mew.”

Donna chuckled. “Oh, I agree. He might be hungry, but right now, he’s sailing and just enjoying being out in the embrace of his real mother—the sky.”

“He’s got excess testosterone to burn off, too. Grounded for three days because of rain has made him antsy to get back into the air.”

“Isn’t that the truth!” Donna said, humor in her tone. “Let me know when to put the food out on my glove.”

“I will.

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