Eagles Sky Dance

Eagles dancing in the sky help inspire threads of connections, weaving together the lives of an Oregon Coast lighthouse keeper and a woman on the East Coast.

A copy of the 1898 Matrimonial Bazar publication for personal ads sat on Elias's desk.

Below the heading, it said,

”Our aim is high: To increase the number of home firesides, increase the happiness of other people, in short, to do what we can in mitigating woe and loneliness in any sphere or grade of life.

To cultivate the aims of life and help men and women into a state of bliss.

Yours respectfully, C.G. Horton, Editor.”

On the Pacific coast in the Oregon wilderness, Elias looked at the reply he received to his "Objective: Matrimonial" personal ad.

“I very much liked her letter and photo. Good women suited for being a wife are scarce out here. If I need to bring one from back east that is alright."

He knew what he wished he could say.

“But how should I say this? I don’t want to be too direct,” he thought.

The flames on the logs in the wood-burning Franklin warming stove kept the room cozy and warm. Elias was heating a pot of fish and vegetable stew on top of the stove. Herbs sent aromas making the air fragrant.

Elias earned about $800 a year as head keeper for the remote, isolated Mystic Lighthouse. The job included housing in the Queen Anne Victorian house overlooking the sea.

The house, four years old, and designed by an architect, was artistic and comfortable. It was very different from many of the homes built by the homesteaders doing the work themselves.

The building supplies had arrived by sea, floated in from ships on smaller boats and rafts, and by horse-drawn wagon using the beaches at low tide for part of the journey.

A village crew came from an 8-hour horse ride away to live there while building it. Seafood, vegetables from the gardens, and other sources meant food was abundant.

"All it needs now is a wife for me and children, I'm ready for a family," thought Elias.

Outside, the ocean stretched far till it met with the sky. The waves made their rhythmic music. Elias looked into the wood stove flames while he thought.

On the other side of the country from Elias, in the village of Dawn’s Harbor on the Atlantic coast, two women walked downtown toward the ships and distant lighthouse far out on the rocky point.

Maryanne turned her head toward her sister.

“Thank you, Nora for coming with me. I am trying to imagine what life with a lighthouse keeper would be like.”

“You are wise, sister, to think hard and take your time finding out more,” said the other woman.

They strolled in the cool March wind past the ships and out to the point where waves splashed high on the rocks. The white lighthouse sat on a squat base and rose 40 feet with its lantern room at the top. 

Next to it rested a cottage for the lighthouse keeper. Conveniently near town, Maryanne thought this lighthouse must be different from what she knew about the wilderness of the Oregon coast.

Back on the opposite coast, next to the Pacific Ocean, Elias was filling kerosene reservoirs high in the lantern room of the tall lighthouse surrounded by vast, mostly empty lands.

A picture of the letter from Maryanne of Dawn’s Harbor on the East Coast flashed through Elias’s thoughts. The widowed seamstress with a small child was well-established and owned her dressmaking and tailor business.

At the lighthouse, he and the other two lighthouse keeper families always needed clothing to be mended or replaced. Their clothing was serviceable for work in the wilderness. But perhaps if she still desired finer seamstress work she could sell her fashions in the village.

She had skills that would be useful in a partner for life. Living in a coastal town, although on the other side of the country, she described growing vegetables, drying fish, and canning vegetables and fruits.

He liked what he saw in her picture. Maryanne sounded responsible, mature, and reliable. Her photo showed a face that looked like she was kind and fun-loving too.

He kept the letter and photo in his pocket and took it out often. In it, a young woman wearing a well-tailored dress with lace inserts sat on a carved chair, with a little girl on her lap.

Elias saw calm eyes, hair pulled back, a stylish wide-brimmed hat tilted on her head, and a soft smile. He felt there was mystery and something calling to him in the photo.

He looked out the window at the lighthouse, the sea below, and the horses in the corral near his lightkeeper’s house.

“March 3, 1898,” he wrote.

“Dear Madame, It was a pleasure to receive your reply and your photo,” he wrote.

For a long time, he sat, wondering what to say. He looked at the poem he had found in the traveling lighthouse library book about courtship.

This is what it said.

"Two Eagles fly,

Talons grasped tight,

Wings in the sky,

Courtship in flight.

In courtship dance

Spinning a song

They test each other

Do they belong?

Cartwheels of wings

Whirling dreams

Ocean wind sings

Sun's ray beams.

Will they be

Entwined to share

A nest by the sea

Woven with care."

Elias drew in a deep breath and continued writing his letter to Maryanne.

“This week when I tended the beacon at the lighthouse, an unusual sight appeared in the air nearby. From the lighthouse lantern room, 60 feet above the ground, sitting on a 200-foot bluff next to the ocean, I feel I am part of the sky and clouds.

Outside the glassed lantern room, I saw two eagles meet in the air. Their wings were as wide as tree boughs when they swooped past the windows.

The winter fog drifts by the lighthouse and the waves are far, far below. In and out of the misty sky I saw the eagles' wings flashing.

Then they clasped their talons together and began a spinning dance, round and round, wings fluttering and unfurling.

Like two dancers they floated and tumbled, cartwheeling, drifting, wings tilting as they spun, holding each other’s talons.

I’ve been told this is how they court, testing each other to see if they can be mates.

If chosen, they bond for life and grow old together, sharing the tasks of caring for their young. They build a beautiful nest. Each year they bring more twigs and branches to renovate it, strengthening their bond while their nest grows.

The male and female take turns sitting on the nest’s eggs, although the female does sit on the eggs more. One of them will be hunting for food or perched close nearby to protect the nest.”

Elias paused, sitting very still, looking into the air at nothing. He included some more details about himself.

“What do you think about these eagles?” He kept writing.

“Aren’t they wonderful?” He wondered if she would catch on to the implication of the courting eagles.

He hoped she would understand what he was trying to imply.

The next day he left for the 8-hour ride to the village, leading several strong horses to carry supplies on the way back. The other two lightkeeper's would cover his shifts and he would bring them supplies in return.

The sky was grey. Foggy fingers reached through the mountains and floated close to the ocean waves.

But the rain held off and the trails were wet, but not deep, soft mud. Elias rode the lop-eared, steady, grey horse, whose powerful haunches sent them over the beach and along the dirt trails toward the village.

A few days away from lighthouse tending were invigorating. Elias felt a weightlessness to his thoughts and feelings.

After he fed the horses and left them in a paddock in the village, Elias went over to get a hotel room.

The next morning he walked along the riverfront in the village.

Without bridges, all water crossings were by boat. Now Elias saw a rowboat dragging a big raft of logs lashed together across the water.

The rowboat bobbed in the river and the oars swept up and around. On the other shore, the distant figures loaded another boat.

“Somebody grab that ferry raft,” a man’s voice called.

Fir trees and mountains framed the wide waters. Brisk air brought scents of salt water and forest fragrances.

“I’ll get it,” Elias hollered. He thought of the modern city of San Francisco, many days by ship to the south. 

It even had experimental horseless carriages. But this tiny village on the wide river was a step back in time.

 Although it was already 1898, the remote village was isolated by mountains and bodies of water without bridges to cross them.  

Water sloshed against the wharf. The raft bumped the pier pilings. A young woman nearby named Cora watched the attractive man grab the rowboat lines.

Elias's arms spun and he wrapped the lines around the posts. The boat was snugged up tight. 

The river current swept the flat raft, with its lashed logs, hard against the posts. The man stooped, grasped the raft lines, and snugged it up tight also.

Barrels and boxes rode high on the raft. Cora’s father stepped onto it. He untied the lashings, lifted boxes, and stepped onto the wharf with them.

“Here, let me help you," Elias said. Cora was still watching him. "Who was this?" She decided to find out.

“Thank you, good to see you, Elias,” said the man unloading boxes.

“I believe you haven’t met my daughter, Cora.”

“You’re welcome, George. No, I don’t believe I have.”

Elias nodded to Cora and they shared glances. Her smile was enthusiastic. She liked what she saw.

George thought “I heard this young man is searching for a wife. He has a good position as the Mystic Lighthouse Keeper. Salary, nice Victorian home, a good living. Maybe I can play matchmaker for Cora.”

“You had nice weather for your trip from the lighthouse yesterday,” said George. 

Cora’s hair was blowing in the breeze while she continued smiling at Elias, who had paused.

George decided to keep the conversation going. His daughter needed suitors and this man might be a prospect.

“Yes, the footing was good for the horses, too, after this break between the rains. I rode and led the pack horses. Stocking up today with supplies,” said Elias.

“Tonight there’s a barn dance at the Mill Hotel, maybe we’ll see you there,” George said. Cora’s eyes lit up.

“We’ve got a fiddler and a country dance caller.”

“Now, that would be something I haven’t done here before,” Elias said to George.

“I may wander by and see what this is all about”.

Cora’s smile widened but Elias did not notice.

He helped unload the raft and went to several shops to order supplies. At the stable, he checked on his horses. 

With only around 300 people, most of the people in the village knew each other. Lumbering, fishing, and homesteading drew many young, single men who sought opportunities. But women could be scarce.

Elias went to the post office and mailed his letter. He knew his ad in the Matrimonial Magazine was seen across the country. He picked up a stack of replies.

When he tried using the personal ads in the regional newspaper, he ran into the same issue of the scarcity of single women. Using the national matrimonial magazine was the only way to reach single women across the country.

But when he thought of the letter he had just sent, he wondered if he had already found a wife.

Cora, unaware of the ads and the letter Elias carried, went home and prepared for the country dance at the mill. She picked her best long blue dress and twirled her hair into big curls on top of her head.

The evening was early when Elias heard the music and looked in the doorway. The room was lit by kerosene lanterns hung around it on the walls. The musicians included a fiddler, a flute, and a guitar. Men sitting around the edge of the room stomped their work boots to the music, adding a drumbeat.

“This is good,” thought Eias.

“I am so isolated out at the lighthouse. The other keepers and the homesteaders are good company. But a trip into town and a chance to socialize is interesting. I forget sometimes what this is like.”

The wood floor shook with the sound of men’s heavy boots. A country dance caller hollered out commands for the steps. There were not enough women for partners and circles of men stepped to the music. Each woman had a line of single men waiting for a dance.

The men came from all over the country to the wilderness, drawn by opportunities for homesteading large acreages, lumbering, fishing, and a chance to leave cities and live with freedom and privacy.

Elias saw one of the ladies head in his direction and he recognized Cora from the wharf that morning. She approached and greeted him.

“Well, you made it,” she said.

Elias had a quick impression of something hard in her eyes, something hidden. He felt his intuition raise a sense of being on guard.

His thoughts quickly flitted to the letter about the two eagles courting that he mailed.

“What would Maryanne think when she read that letter? What if she had already found someone on the East Coast?”

Cora tilted her head toward the dance floor, unaware. The message she implied was clear.

Elias nodded and they stepped out onto the dance floor, joining a group of three other couples forming a square. 

The fiddle music played, the caller hollered dance moves, and the couples bounced across the floor.

After the dance Elias joined Cora’s parents and their friends at a large table. The conversation flowed and Elias listened, feeling a little awkward and out of practice.

“How long has it been since I did something like this?” he thought.

George and Mara, Cora’s parents, turned to him. “Tell us a little about yourself, Elias. I bet you have some interesting stories. Where are you from?”

“I grew up near the fjords in Norway, in a seafaring family. My father and ancestors traveled far and wide on voyages. They were brave and loved to explore.

At home, we managed to scrape by a living. When I heard about the western United States opening up, about the gold, the homesteaders land available, and the opportunities, I talked my brother into coming with me. He lives on the east coast now, married, with a growing family.”

Cora was listening intently and Elias felt her strong focus. Her eyes were observing him closely. George and Maria nodded.

“I came out for the same reason. We’re from the eastern side of the country, too,” George said.

At the same moment, thousands of miles away on the Atlantic coast, Maryanne was already asleep in Dawn’s Harbor after her trip that day to the local lighthouse. She breathed slowly and gently, dreaming of a lighthouse beacon sweeping across ocean waves somewhere.

Later that night, on the Pacific Coast, Elias was awake for a while after the country dance. Cora’s focused eyes observing him floated through his thoughts. The hardness and secrecy in her eyes troubled him.

Elias took out the photo of Maryanne. He looked at her eyes in the picture by the lantern light in his hotel room. There was a softness and a gentleness in her gaze. The little girl on her lap smiled and her eyes were happy. 

“What did her voice sound like?” Elias tried to imagine it. "Would he like hearing the sound of it?"

What was she like as a human being?”

Elias knew what he did not want. Cora’s eyes spoke of her personality and he was not interested in her as a possible wife, despite the obvious efforts of George and Mara to be matchmakers.

He set the photo of Maryanne on the table next to his bed, where he could see it easily when he woke up in the morning.

He felt like the photo was keeping him company.

Outside the window, clouds scudded in front of the moon.

Elias pictured the two eagles, cartwheeling through the air together. 

Something caught in his throat at the thought.

On the edge of falling asleep, he pictured a sign over his front door at the lighthouse, "The Eagle's Nest."