The feeling was one of relief, not gratitude.
There were the familiar aspects of flight: velocity, height,
measuring distance, and seeing so much, again,
of the world as it should be.

She circled them once, in the clearing,
not as an act of farewell or defiance
but in a final effort to
understand these strange creatures.

Despite the searing pain at the time,
the injured eagle fought them at the start,
then learned in her captivity that
survival would require cooperation.

They had touched her and fixed things.
They had watched her, and even fed her,
and sometimes the touching, though unwelcome,
was strangely reassuring.

And as she flew madly above the green landscape
of summer, she did not circle back again
and could not hear her rescuers cheering 
and did not care that they had given her a name.

– Phil Huffy