Once of my recent preoccupations (along with Palomas and Trader Joe’s taco cheese) are the two eaglets that recently hatched in Big Bear Lake, California. (Yes—Sunny and Gizmo! You’ve been watching them on the 24-hour live video feed positioned on their nest, too? Animal voyeurism all day [and night] … it gets in the way of gainful employment but it’s worth it.)

I wrote last year about how the bald eagle parents (Jackie and Shadow) shit the bed nest and laid three “unviable” eggs 😔. My inordinately-sensitive-to-animals-soul still laments what went down—specifically, that nothing went down—and that we’ll never know if the bald eagles grieved the unhatch-edness of the eggs or if they were like, “you lay some, you lose some. Let’s go catch a coot for dinner.”

Back to the topic at hand, though.

So we (us bird nerds) are now on official “fledge watch” (because eaglets fly from their nest anywhere from 10 – 14 weeks after hatching), and I’ve gotta tell ya, it’s not for the faint of heart. What’s going to happen when the eaglets hurl themselves out of the nest?

Here’s a picture of a text exchange with my friend Capella, whom I roped into this animal kingdom drama:

Are the eaglets scared to fly for the first time? Are they excited? I’m looking closely into their eyes through the camera lens for clues about their emotional state.

As a novice bird psychologist, here are my astute observations: they mostly look angry, but that’s because eagles have a menacing brand image to maintain. They also look hungry, as evidenced by the way they fight over and devour the fish their parents bring to them in their 145-foot-high twig palace. So I guess they look hangry. They’re hangry, feathery little eaglets who are participating in clumsy, wing-flapping workouts charmingly called “wingercizing.”

Enough about the eaglets and more about you.

Is there something in your life you’re almost-but-not-quite-but-maybe ready to launch? To start? To fledge?

• Is it putting a down payment on that house of your dreams?
• Is it kicking off the business?
• Is it applying to the program?
• Is it asking that bartender out?
• Is it starting IVF?
• Is it selling your first painting?
• It is painting your first painting?
• Is it signing up for your first open mic night?
• Is it moving to Boise (OMG it’s so cool there)?
• Is it deciding to retire once and for all?
• Is it transitioning your gender?
• Is it going vegan?
• Is it getting help with your not-so-little-anymore addiction?
• Is it getting a makeover?
• Is it putting your big idea up for a patent?
• We should stop with all the examples, right? No—just a few more…
• Is it dancing your ass off on the first dance floor you can find?
• Is it addressing that awkward conflict with your boss?
• Is it forgiving someone for a thing that’s been plaguing you since summer of 2004?
• Is it learning how to speak Italian so you can move to a remote village near Tuscany?
• Is it changing your career after 23 years?
• Okay now we’re done.

At some point your dream will have to fledge. You’ll have to leap out of your nest and trust that your wings are going to figure it out. You might land on the ground in a thud, and the good news is that you can survive there, too, as you figure out how to get liftoff again before the wolves get you.

Bald eaglets aren’t taught how to fly by their parents. Sunny and Gizmo at Big Bear Lake, for example, have been provided with food and shelter since they hatched and they’ll remain on Jackie and Shadow’s payroll for 5 – 10 weeks after they fledge from the nest (getting free food, accommodations, and wifi access) … but they have not been taught how to leap off the branch, soar, or land (😳😳). I’m telling you this because it might be a metaphor for your own life … you have to be the one to fledge. YOU HAVE TO FLY SOLO. No one can teach you how to do it. People might have provided indirect support before your Inaugural Flight and they might provide support (and hopefully a party) for you upon your return, but you have to be the one to flap your little wings, kiddo.

Is it scary? Yes. Is it worth it? Always.

You’ve wingersized enough. It’s time to fly… to see where your dreams and plans and goals and ideas can take you. You can always fly back to the nest if you want to, although I suspect you’ll want to catch your own fish and coots once you’ve soared through the air.