Two adult eagles feed their young at a nest, along Onondaga Lake, that has inspired regional awe. Credit: Mike Greenlar | Central Current

Tina Thomas spotted the great bird’s distant profile in the sky, a long way off. This was a little more than four years ago, and Thomas — looking toward the tree line along Onondaga Lake — was walking across the parking lot of the Ska-nonh Great Law of Peace Center in Liverpool, by the Onondaga Lake Parkway.

Whatever errand she was doing, she instantly stopped. That distinctive wing span of six or seven feet made it clear: A bald eagle was coming toward her like a rocket. The sight was exhilarating enough by itself, a reaction that rose into utter awe when the eagle landed near the open peak of a Douglas fir tree — a few hundred feet away — and then started tearing and pulling at some branches.

With wonder, Thomas realized:

“She was building a nest.”

Thomas, an educator at Ska-nonh, is a member of the Onondaga Nation. The lake, to her people, has timeless meaning: It’s the cultural and spiritual birthplace of the ancient Indigenous alliance called the Haudenosaunee, or Six Nations — whose people watched with grief for nearly two centuries as a place of reverence was defiled by industrial poisons and civic sewer discharge.

Finally, a $750 million cleanup process made sweeping improvements in the lake, though the Haudenosaunee contend both Onondaga Lake and Onondaga Creek still face obstacles that block the way to full restoration — exemplified by recent leaks that allowed tens of millions of gallons of raw sewage into the water, as syracuse.com | The Post-Standard reported.

For Thomas, seeing that eagle was a manifestation of everything she believes, particularly of how the sacred is epitomized by constant awareness and gratitude for the natural world, even at unlikely places.

In that way, Thomas said the nest provides a direct and beautiful message about “sharing the peace.”

The eagle and its mate have returned every year since those early sightings, though they’ve moved to another tree in a nearby woods, still not far from Ska-nonh. Their presence in any densely populated metropolitan area would be a stunning gift, but nesting eagles along Onondaga Lake bring together so many elements of beauty, heritage and communal responsibility that their presence is summarized in one word by Sarah Shute, Thomas’s close friend, a wildlife biologist and a Ska-nonh volunteer who for years served as the center’s director.

“Mindblowing,” Shute said.

The essence of all that excitement, right now: Two young eagles, hatched last spring, have already taken “fledgling” flights from that nest. Beloved by many photographers who’ve followed their development from a respectful distance, the young birds are ready to leave the nest at any time to go off on their own, said Alison Kocek, a wildlife biologist and vice president of Onondaga Audubon who’s deeply involved in protecting the eagles.

Tina Thomas: To the Onondaga Nation, the arrival of nesting eagles at Onondaga Lake is a manifestation of thanksgiving. Credit: Mike Greenlar | Central Current

It’s “very rare,” Kocek said, to have “an urban roost” in such a busy setting. She said the nesting adults near Onondaga Lake are willing to tolerate a measure of human noise and distractions — such as the steady traffic along the parkway — that would cause most eagles to seek more isolated nesting spots. Still, she said it’s important both to give these eagles a great deal of space, and for eagle watchers to park safely in the public parking lot just beyond the Butterfly Garden of Hope sign, along the parkway’s southbound lane — rather than disturbing the eagles by going all too close in the Ska-nonh lot, or posing a danger to themselves and others by stopping along the side of the parkway.

The truth is: Even from a safe distance, the eagles are unforgettable.

“Who would ever think something like this could happen here?” said Ed Guarente of North Syracuse, a skilled photographer who regularly contributes to the Kocek-founded “Bald Eagles of Onondaga Lake” Facebook page, which has 26,000 members and offers a stunning array of eagle images.

Typically, Guarente shows up several times a day to photograph the eagles from the Butterfly parking area, near the parkway. Deeply respected by his fellow photographers, some who make long drives to keep track of the eagles — “a great group of likeminded people,” as described by Barbara Emerson, another regular — Guarente speaks of the nesting birds in a amused and familiar way, as if they’re family friends.

There are the parents, nicknamed “Buster” and “Babs” by the photographers — believed to be the same eagles who’ve built a nest every year for the past few springs. There’s a third adult eagle that helps with the nest, an occasional phenomenon in the wild that Crystal Slusher of the American Eagle Foundation calls a “triad.”

And then there are the two young birds, known as “eaglets.” A third baby eagle died a few months ago, apparently killed by a storm, only elevating the importance of the two survivors. The birds are already adult-sized, though their feathers at this age are so dark they’re almost a bluish black.

Like any siblings, they have differences in personality, according to Guarente and others who watch them closely. One, slightly larger, is far more daring. That young eagle was the first to summon the courage for a flight over the lake. By chance, we were there a few days ago when that bird returned from a solo flight, soaring in so unexpectedly with that great wing span that it made us catch our breath, before the young eagle made a majestic landing on a limb.

And then, whoops! The eagle tumbled and bounced off a couple of branches, in the way a teenager might stumble amid a youthful growth spurt. That kind of daily behavior, Kocek said — “the way they’re beautiful but gangly and learning through their mistakes” — only galvanizes the affection offered by the women and men who watch or photograph the eagles, every day.

Last week, as I looked toward the nest from the butterfly garden lot — joined by my youngest son and by Central Current photographer Mike Greenlar, a student of the eagles — a steady stream of visitors kept stopping by.

Some, like Becky Bivone and Dave Smith, are passionate photographers. Smith, who works as a mechanic for Delta Sonic, said he began photographing the birds a year ago, an experience of such uplifting daily activity and satisfaction that it’s helped him in losing 45 pounds — while offering a new “clarity” about the civic imperative of pushing forward with the cleanup of Onondaga Lake.

Others — like Kristy Keesler of Manlius — simply pulled over in awe. Keesler, who stopped with her son Alex, had never observed an eagle in the wild before she spotted one of the adults, which maintained a fierce treetop vigil. “You just feel lucky to see this,” said Keesler, who joined Bivone in remembering the era when bald eagles were endangered, when the great fear was losing this national symbol altogether …

A young eagle leaves its nest not far from Onondaga Lake, on a fledgling flight. Credit: Mike Greenlar | Central Current

And when people would have laughed in sheer disbelief if anyone claimed some bald eagles were raising their young, near Onondaga Lake.

Now? Remedial efforts at the Metropolitan Syracuse Wastewater Treatment Plant, part of the larger efforts of cleaning of the long-polluted lake, have made the wastewater outflow significantly cleaner. Every winter, within the city borders, that warm water opens up a spot in the ice — an area isolated by fencing, trees and railroad tracks — where dozens of bald eagles come to feed on shad and other fish during the bitter cold.

The natural spectacle is a compelling draw for photographers from this region, and beyond. Guarente remembers one day of frigid cold when an eagle — fighting against icy headwinds — essentially paused in the sky directly above some photographers watching from the Onondaga Creekwalk, the great wings churning like a bellows, a moment of such impossible majesty that Guarente said “guys were standing there, crying.”

At least one mating couple from that wintertime colony decided to stick around and build a nest – an event of historic significance along Onondaga Lake.

Tina Thomas had the chance to watch it from the start, four years ago. She’s been involved for years at Ska-nonh, now under the direction of Emerson Shenandoah — a cultural center developed through a collaboration between the Onondagas, the Onondaga Historical Association and Onondaga County. The goal is telling the story of the Indigenous people of the region, particularly the Onondagas — the firekeepers for the Haudenosaunee, or Six Nations, whose collective spiritual and political history begins on the shoreline.

For generations, the Haudenosaunee have passed down the account of how their Peacemaker gathered together the then-five nations on the banks of the lake — adversaries all too often at open war — and persuaded them to come together as allies, who agreed to bury their weapons in the ground.

The Peacemaker used that hole to plant a tree of peace, a white pine often depicted by the Haudenosaunee with a vigilant eagle at its peak — because “the eagle,” Thomas said, “is the first one to see any danger.”

Awestruck spectators, in a parking lot for the Butterfly Garden of Hope, retain respectful distance while admiring the faraway eagles. Credit: Mike Greenlar | Central Current

Shute recalls when the eagles first began nesting in a fir tree, where they commandeered and expanded a nest built by red tail hawks. At the time, Thomas found an old tape of a native speaker reciting the Haudenosaunee thanksgiving address, an expression of gratitude for all living creatures, and for the interconnected spirit of the natural world.

Every day, often joined by Shute, Thomas would sit in her car and play those words out loud, quietly offering her own voice as a response, while watching the eagles settle in to raise their young.

“I really believe that’s why the eagles stayed,” Thomas said — speaking of the meaning and impact of hearing that address, in such a sacred place.

In the first year, one fledgling became strong enough to leave the nest. While the adult eagles returned, no hatchlings survived in 2023 or 2024, adding historic power to the way two young eaglets, this summer, have grown toward independence near the lake.

Thomas sees the great birds as allies and teachers. Her own life, she said, has been a journey of self-discovery. She was raised on the near West Side of Syracuse, where existence “was all about survival, about keeping a roof over my head.” It wasn’t until she reached her 20s that she began to fully contemplate her own identity as an Onondaga, a process that accelerated when she married the late Virgil Thomas, who served as an Onondaga chief.

Nesting eagles, near Onondaga Lake, care for their young. Credit: Mike Greenlar | Central Current

Gradually, a series of cascading revelations transformed the way Tina sees the world. She settled on the Onondaga Nation. She began thinking of how generations of ancestors walked woodlands now covered by the towers and factories of Syracuse, how a city was built atop land that holds the remains of her ancestors, “how in the plants and the trees, forever, we’re still here.”

It all came home with staggering gratitude — the selfless quality upon which the Peacemaker built an enduring belief system at Onondaga Lake. For Thomas, the hope is that whenever we see young eagles in a nest, a sight that remains a kind of daily Syracuse miracle, that we remain open to the same overwhelming emotion that swept across her when she saw the eagle coming toward her in the sky.

It was the same appreciation for life itself – for the role of every living being around us – that Thomas feels in the words of the Thanksgiving address.

“I really believe,” she said, “it’s the only way to unity and peace.”

A Mike Greenlar photo illustration of the nesting eagles of Onondaga, by the Haudenosaunee flag. Credit: Mike Greenlar | Central Current

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Sean Kirst is a columnist with The Central Current. He has been an Upstate journalist for more than 50 years. He held his first reporting job as a teenager and worked for newspapers in Dunkirk, Niagara...