A Younger President FDR, c. 1900. Click for Source.
Hey, babe, you can pack my court.
HE LOOKS LIKE RYAN GOSLING
Franklin Dashing-As-Can-Be Roosevelt
I remember my first eagle ceremony when I turned nine. The first eagle you get is always declawed, which I always thought was pretty inhumane, but it was a good way to ease into caring for the birds. My eagle (named Baldy, because I wasn’t a terribly clever child) was already quite old when I received him (he was a rescue eagle, luckily) but I did have him until I was 16. I don’t know if I was more excited about getting my drivers license that year, or my new eagle! You should have seen the party we had when I got him, too! Grilled hot dogs and fire works and lemonade…. obviously I named my beautiful new eagle Freedom. He’s too big to keep inside anymore, unfortunately, but we’ve got a pretty comfortable roost for him on our apartment’s balcony.
Ah, yes, the eagle ceremony! My Justice and I remember his quite well. (They had just come out with telepathic link transplants when I got him, which is how I know he remembers it.) Our celebration was quite modest, compared to Freedom’s—apple pie under a cloudless summer sky as we signed our Declaration of Interdependence. I still have the inked and talon-pierced document hanging on my wall.
what is this
I’m on my 3rd Eagle, I call him Square Deal or SD for short. I’ve already exhausted such great names as Roosevelt Squared and William Taft That Ass. Anyways, seeing as this is my 3rd eagle in only a few years, and WTTA had died unexpectedly from Bird Flu, I didn’t have too much saved up for my last Eagle ceremony.
We had a modest trip to America’s favorite past time, baseball. SD caught a home run, which I later had signed and mounted for him. Then we tapped a few bottle rockets together and threw them out the window during our mandatory Hummer procession home. All in all it was a perfect day.
In the dining room at Sagamore Hill, circa 1894
A Teddy Roosevelt photo I’ve never seen before.