Where eagles soar. Or sit

Easter was a great day to just lollygag around. After church the Old Cajunette and I (don't let her know I called her that or I'll be in big trouble) took a little trip in the pirogue, oh for maybe two miles.
And what a trip it was.
We got into one of those little canals that branches off from the bayou, and let me tell you the alligators are already out looking for food. You'll be looking at a tree trunk laying there in the water that fell during the winter and there that gator is, just looking and watching. When we passed a few they splashed down in the water, figuring it wouldn't be good to hang around.
So there we are traveling through the canal and not a sign of any people, and then the Old Cajunette she points up and says "Look, right up there at the top of the tree."
Sure enough it was a bald eagle, just sitting on the treetop, not bothered by anything, like he owned everything that was here. And if I was an eagle I'd probably feel the same way.
That eagle was so still, he looked like a statue. I wanted to climb up and pinch him to make sure he wasn't.
We figured we'd leave him along and we paddled on back to the house. A few of the neighbors were making an Easter party and cooking a big jambalaya in the iron pot outside.
We were going to make a ham, but that jambalaya was just too tempting.
I told T-Boy from next door about the eagle, and then about how there didn't used to be any because of the poison, but now Louisiana swamps are like eagle central.
T-Boy shrugged.
"How's it taste?" he said.
I gave him a dirty look but figured I'd come back on the joke with him.
"Eh," I said. "Been a long time since I ate one but it's a little bit like spotted owl."