The Anaconda standard. [volume] (Anaconda, Mont.) 1889-1970, 1899-09-01
ANACONDA NEWS.
BOWED DOWN WITH GRIEF
Hearts of the Eagles Are Sad and
Bleeding.
THEIR BROTHER NO MORE
Grim Death Claims Him Who Was
Their Exalted One-The Story of
His Life. His Tragedy and
His Death

oo"A viii the weight OF woe. lHelT
nest, so gay and happy once, is a scene
of sorrow, sadness and desolation.
Where once their screams rang with
Ia ty vigor, all is hushed into ominous
81 thce. Their eyrie is grief-stricken
al Il tears course down their cheeks.
Their joyous laugh is heard no more
in Its place a painful hush has fallen.
But why this sadness, this sorrow,
this silence, this disconsolation? Why
these ar-stained faces and these
heart-broken signs? All, therein lies
the story. A brother eagle has departed
this vale. Yea, he was even more than
a brother eagle-he was goa at whose
shrine was paid homage by all other
eagles.
But the grim reaper has claimed him
and even now he utters his joyous
screams in that supreme eyrie where
sorrow is not and where naught but
happiness and contentment are the lol
of good and faithful eagle, such as
was he whose earthly voice is stilled
forever. He has found eternal rest; ne
has reached that bourne which every
good eagle longs to reach.
The eagle whose life was thus cut off
in it's prime was not an ordinary eagle.
Nor yet was he an extraordinary eagle.
He was just an eagle, a plain, simple,
every day, two-legged, two winged ca
gle. The history of his life is simple.
1t is easily written. 1t contains but
two things worthy of especial note.
One is tragedy, the other his exalta-
ton to the post of Eagle of the Ea g .es
The eagle whose obituary here is
written knew not that freedom and
liberty which his genus has symbol
lied. Early in his young life, even ere
his bright eyes We're fairly oped, he
was taken into captivity by cruel, mer-
cenary hunters. With him was a COM
panion. A beautiful, soft-eyed, sweet
voiced maiden eagle. Like wretched
slaves he and his companion were sold,
body and souls. Happily they found
kind master. That master was John r.
Walkup, who then was manager of An
aconda Lake park. Here the eagle and
his docile companion in captivity Jared
well. They had a pleasant place of
abode. Their material wants were well
cared for. They we've happy. Their
cage was placed mid green foliage,
where song birds twittered merrily all
the day, and where all was life and
gladness. But soon the summer waned
The warmth and sunshine that had
flooded their prison grew less and less,
until it ceased altogether. The happy
song birds hoped about no longer, and
the bright foliage turned first to yellow
and then to brown. Then white things
like bits of paper began to fail, Many
of these found their way into the
eagles cage And they were so cold.
With the white things the poor baby
eagles discovered the horrible truth
that their kind master was there no
more to feed them delica cies. In his
place there came stranger. AT first
the stranger fed them well. But his
milk of human kindness speedily ran
ho nv ole FOL ha
of hunger From day to day the gnaw-
ing at their vitals became harder to
bear. Their loudest screams of distress
went unheeded and brought no response
from him in whose care they had been
given. Once or twice stroller through
the park tossed them a bit of this or
that, and their cries of gratitude fol-
lowed him afar.
Life became a struggle.
1t had resolved itself into a question
of the survival of the fittest. One bit
terly cold day, when dispair had taken
the place of hope, craZed with hunger,
the Eagle of the Eagles sprang upon his
fair companion and devoured her That
was his tragedy.
But the winter passed away and the
cold, white things disappeared, and the
birds twittered and the foliage took on
it's green and all was gladness again
Thus it was until the Eagle of the
I-dS tdllle " tue uOllCG VI Vne Fra
ternal Order of Eagles. Hardly had
they cast their eyes upon him, ere he
was raised to the honored post which
he so ably filed up to the time of his
untimely death Thenceforward his
was one grand, magnificent, glorious
triumph. He was the father of the
Eagles, the brethren of the Eagles, their
one, their all. They worshipped him;
they paid him homage. They basked in
his smiles and went into ecstasies when
he screamed. He was, indeed, the la
gle of the Eagles.
But death is a leveler of all None so
exalted there are but who must answer
the summons. So it was with the Eagle
of the Eagles. He is no more His as
trail self screams on high, but his phys
zeal self is even now on its way to Mis-
soula, where a taxidermist with a rusty
knife and a bucket full of sawdust will
cut it up and stuff it, after which it will
be placed upon a pedestal of honor,
where all Eagles may gaze upon it with
reverence.
And that is why the hearts of the
Eagles are bowed down with the
weight of woe.
Fnr al,