Finding itself on the ground, the bird surveyed the world from an unfamiliar vantage point. Behind it was a vast cornfield. In front was a road.

The brown and white speckled bird was about 2 ½ feet long and could easily be mistaken for an osprey or a hawk, but a closer inspection of its beak, eyes, and head shape revealed it to be our national icon, the American Bald Eagle. The distinctive white head and tail take about five years to develop which meant that this bird was still a sexually immature juvenile.

With eyes that are four times more powerful than those on a human with 20/20 vision, the eagle spotted a woman and two dogs walking down the road towards it. Unable to fly, the bird hunched down, almost willing itself to fade into the tall grasses.

The woman, my wife Gretchen, spotted the bird before the dogs did and led them away before they had any notion of trying to make its acquaintance. Judging from the eagle’s razor sharp claws, I don’t think such a meeting would’ve ended well.

When Gretchen returned on her own to see if the eagle was okay, it began to hop away from her. Something was surely wrong with the bird.

She contacted, Bennett Price, a friend who works at the Kent County Humane Society. While, the Humane Society doesn’t deal with wildlife, Bennett was about to take his lunch break and was happy to help out.

Tristate Bird Rescue and Research (www.tristatebird.org) is a non-profit in Newark, DE that works to rehabilitate and release wild birds. They informed Gretchen that severe budget cuts meant that they couldn’t afford to make the hour-long drive to our house, but if we could get the bird to them they would care for it. They advised us on how to safely “catch” it: cover the bird in a blanket or towel and try to avoid the talons and beak while placing it into a cardboard box.

Luckily, Bennett was better equipped than the average homeowner. After a bit of trial and error, which included following the bird after it retreated into the cornfield, he was able to catch the eagle in a net designed for stray dogs and placed it into a large crate used for animal transport.

We were grateful for the crate. Occasionally the eagle got agitated and hopped around with enough force to easily overturn a cardboard box.

Gretchen drove the eagle to Newark. The car ride was almost certainly another new experience for the bird. When her speed was constant and the car was going straight, the bird remained fairly calm, but any time she had to use the brakes or make a turn, the shift in momentum caused it to flap around in nervous agitation.

When she arrived at Tristate, the grateful employees admitted the eagle into the Wild Bird Clinic. She filled out some paperwork detailing where and how the bird was found.

A few minutes later they returned the now-empty pet carrier. She asked if she could see the eagle one last time and maybe take some pictures of it now that it was no longer in the crate.

Unfortunately, the staff explained that they couldn’t allow the general public into the back rooms of the clinic. They will send us a postcard at some point updating us on the bird’s progress.

With mature adult birds, they make every effort to return it to its original habitat. Since the bird we found was still immature, it will be released in the Newark area where it will assimilate with the other eagles living there.

We won’t see “our” eagle again. But the memory remains. Even in the crate, the large raptor was intimidating. Every time it jostled the cage we were reminded of how much power was contained inside.

As it looked out at us from behind the wire, I can’t help but wonder what it thought. Did it know we were trying to help?

Its eyes remained sharp, focused, and wild. Although, for the most part the eagle appeared calm and patient. Perhaps it was biding its time for that moment when it could, with a powerful thrust of its wings, render us insignificant specs.

What if I told you that there is a place where you can pursue almost any outdoor activity your heart desires?  This is a place with miles of trails for hiking, horseback riding, biking, or running.  The thousand acres of terrain are varied from farm fields, to dense woods, to spectacular bluffs overlooking a river.  Sandy beaches line the riverbanks, offering several miles of natural, uninhabited shorefront for fishing, swimming, or paddling.  A variety of wildlife calls this place home; from foxes and deer patrolling the land to bald eagles and osprey soaring overhead.  Hunters, birders, and outdoor enthusiasts would be hard-pressed to find another piece of public land that could offer them so many options.

You’d think that such a place would attract crowds of people, and yet for a couple of hours on Earth Day my dogs and I had the entire place to ourselves.  I’m writing about Sassafras Natural Resources Management Area (NRMA), which may be one of Kent County’s best kept secrets. It seems impossible to hide 1,000 acres, but a surprising number of people have no idea that this gem lies tucked away in the northern part of the County. The parking lot, big enough to accommodate at least 30 vehicles, rarely contains more than three cars.

If you’ve never been there and you have an interest in any of the activities mentioned in the first paragraph, I strongly urge you to make plans to visit this spring. If you have been there, why not bring someone new to the park with you next time?

As we reflect on what it means to be good stewards of the planet, I can’t overstate how important it is to incorporate new folks into your outdoor activities.  Before people will value something, they must first know it exists. Think of your couch potato friend or a child who spends his/her weekends on the computer.  Perhaps they stay inside because they don’t know any different. Perhaps nature makes them think uncomfortable thoughts involving bugs, poison ivy, and sunburn

If you are someone who enjoys time spent outdoors, you can offer your services as a conduit between this intrepid soul and the natural world.  Just like a child learning to ride a bike benefits from training wheels, your companion will appreciate guidance as they explore “foreign” territories.

I loved jogging the trails of Sassafras NRMA last Sunday and hearing only the chirps of bald eagles and the pitter-patter of raindrops making their way through the leaves.  I enjoy the solitude that nature provides.  But, if I pulled into the parking lot one day and found it filled with cars, I would be thrilled.

Enjoyment of nature cannot be an elitist pursuit, but rather an activity for the masses.  We need to encourage others to come outside with us.  If outdoor spaces continue to be viewed as foreign territories or hidden gems, these places will not survive.

At the KICK Film Festival, Echo Hill Outdoor School presented the movie Play Again (https://playagainfilm.com/).  The film contained a quote from Charles Jordan which neatly sums up this point, “What they do not value, they will not protect. And what they do not protect, they will lose.”

As the Earth Day celebration fades into our rearview, remember that planting trees, recycling, and taking shorter showers are all positive actions that will help the health of our planet.  But can any of those things compare to the impact you could have by teaching a child how to skip a stone along the Sassafras River?

<em>To learn more about the Sassafras Natural Resources Management Area, visit here

A few years ago, my friend Austin and his girlfriend were enjoying a quiet night in his apartment when his friend burst through the door carrying a dead raccoon that he’d accidentally struck with his car.

“I figured you’d know what to do with this,” he announced as he offered the carcass to Austin.

And Austin did.  Growing up in North Carolina, he’d always been surrounded by hunters.  The process of skinning and cleaning an animal was as normal to Austin as tying his shoes.  Although he’d never eaten roadkill before, it seemed just goofy enough to appeal to him.

“That first time, it was just kind of a joke.  Eating a raccoon that’s been hit by a car fulfills just about every hillbilly stereotype out there.  But after marinating and grilling the meat, it was surprisingly good.  That experience made me kind of reevaluate how I thought about roadkill.”

If that account causes you to grimace or feel squeamish, you’re not alone.  Most people would never considering eating an animal that they picked up on the side of the road.  And even those that have are reluctant to go on the record about it.

One local hunter told me, “I’m not going to say I haven’t eaten roadkill, because I have. But I think you may be on your own for this particular investigative reporting assignment.”

There is a certain taboo about roadkill.  Spend even a minimal amount of time driving around Kent County and you’ll pass by numerous carcasses on the side of the roads or in nearby fields.  Vultures and the occasional eagle jockey for position around the recently deceased critter.

But for humans?  Surely that’s a good way to contract a disease, right?

According to Austin, eating roadkill is fairly common in Southern Appalachia.  He and a number of his friends who hunt consider it good fortune to come upon a roadkill deer.  And they’ve yet to get sick.

“I would never eat an animal if I didn’t know how long it had been dead,” he says.  “But if you accidentally hit a deer, or witness someone else hit one, why let the meat go to waste?  Plenty of people I know would gladly throw it in the back of their truck.”

Hillbillies being hillbillies?  Most of Austin’s friends are college educated.  They hunt for utility purposes more than sport.

“One of our biggest problems as a society is that we’re 100% disconnected from our food source.  Most people have no idea where their meat comes from and they’d be repulsed by anything that isn’t wrapped in plastic and sitting in their grocery store.”

At this point it’s worth mentioning that Austin is a farmer.  He raises grass-fed cows.  Part of his job also involves the slaughtering of the animals and the selling of their meat.

“Once I was forced to face exactly where my meat comes from, it changed my perspective.  I know that my farm takes every step to do it as ethically and sustainably as possible.  I couldn’t go back to buying commercially raised meat from the grocery store.”

Austin sees harvesting fresh roadkill as a natural extension of this philosophy.  “Any time you’re taking responsibility for where your food comes from, that’s a positive thing.”

“I’ve seen plenty of deer struck by a car with far less damage to their bodies than the ones shot by a high powered rifle.”

Austin doesn’t suggest that everyone should start scouring the roadways looking for dinner.  You have to know what you’re doing.  If an animal’s intestines or major organs have ruptured, the meat can be tainted with stomach bile and/or fecal matter.

“If in doubt, throw it out,” he says.  “The beauty of roadkill is that it didn’t cost you anything to begin with.  But when you can find a fresh deer that offers good meat to put in your freezer, that’s a total score!  I would consider it a much bigger gamble to go to the grocery store.  The risks that you take when you eat commercially raised meat are astronomical.”

Perhaps it’s too great a leap for the squeamish among us to suddenly consider roadkill as a potential food source, but Austin’s greater point is one that certainly deserves consideration.  The modern consumer is almost completely removed from the processes that bring food to our tables.  Any step (however small) towards lessening that divide, is progress.