March 30

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It was a beautiful morning in the Bay Area, and Eyrie was happy to be out driving along the coast with little to worry about. The sun was shining, the cool spring breeze was blowing, and the radio was turned up as the harpy eagle approached the Golden Gate Bridge. Getting to drive over the iconic landmark was always a nice bonus when he drove into San Francisco from the north — especially on a gorgeous day like this.

The station Eyrie was tuned to went to commercial right as he drove onto the bridge, so he punched the scan button to see what else was on. The bird caught snippets of advertisements and programs as his car’s radio rolled through the various stations.

“grow your portfolio with these investment tips”—
—“and what are you growing in your garden this week, Emily?”—
—“ooh, ooh, growin’ up!”—
—“I think he’s going to grow into a great player for this team”—
—“stop harmful bacteria from growing on your”—

Eyrie turned the radio off. That was weird, he thought. Every single station mentioned growing in some capacity. If he was more conspiracy-minded, he would’ve thought it was some sort of signal for something.

Perhaps he should’ve been more conspiracy-minded.

Eyrie was just past the halfway point of the Golden Gate Bridge when he suddenly shot upward in size, blasting through his car as he expanded to hundreds of feet tall in a matter of seconds. He barely had time to react. One moment, he was driving around like any other normal day. The next, he was growing larger than he ever would’ve thought possible.

His car practically disintegrated against the unstoppable force of the expanding bird. More concerning was how the bridge itself began to buckle and sway. Eyrie’s growth wasn’t stopping, and it quickly became clear that the Golden Gate Bridge wasn’t going to hold up much longer.

Eyrie certainly didn’t want to hurt anyone, so in a panic, he leapt off the bridge and into the bay below.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but this was a mistake for several reasons. First, he needed to push off of something to jump off the bridge, and that something was the bridge itself, which crumbled and gave way under his expanding paws.

And then, once Eyrie impacted the water, his sheer size caused an incredible splash that launched the water of the San Francisco Bay high up into the air, bringing a sudden downpour to the otherwise sunny morning.

Eyrie, for his part, was unharmed by his leap into the sea. The water only rose to the harpy eagle’s waist, and it seemed that he had finally stopped growing. He turned around to take stock of the situation. The southernmost portion of the Golden Gate Bridge had collapsed under his weight, but the rest of it remained intact. Fortunately, everyone driving toward the destroyed part of the bridge had been able to stop in time. Only a handful of vehicles had been on the part which fell into the bay, and Eyrie was able to fish them out and gently place them back on dry land with no harm done.

There was still the issue of finding a way for the drivers trapped on the bridge to get to their destination. They could turn around and drive the long way around the bay, but that would take more than an hour, at least.

But Eyrie had a better idea.

The harpy eagle lowered himself in the water until his knees were touching the bottom of the bay. From there, he only had to drop his shoulders a little bit for his head to reach the same level as the bridge.

The drivers and pedestrians looked up at him nervously, unsure what the giant bird was going to do next. Then, Eyrie opened his beak and extended his tongue to the edge of the broken bridge. Hot, humid eagle breath rolled over the tiny vehicles, fogging up their windshields. It was clear what the colossal avian had in mind, but most of the people on the bridge were still nervous.

Finally, one pedestrian carefully stepped on the bird’s moist, fleshy tongue. Eyrie closed his beak around them, surprised to find himself deriving quite a bit of flavor from the tiny fur. But this little one wasn’t on the menu. He turned around and re-extended his tongue toward the spot on the south side of the bay where the bridge would typically end. The micro happily hopped out of his maw and then, as Eyrie knelt there for a second, patted the giant harpy eagle on the beak.

Eyrie turned back toward the bridge and continued this process for awhile. Some travelers drove straight onto his tongue, while others got out of their vehicles and carefully stepped on, unsure of the slick surface. Eyrie didn’t mind — he was like a big, living ferry, transporting the tinies to the other side until the bridge was empty.

In return, Eyrie got to savor the taste of the many different kinds of furs in his mouth, most of whom gave him adoring pets on the tongue or on the beak. He found that he quite liked the feeling, and once the bridge was clear, the harpy eagle waved to the thankful crowd and set off in search of the next place that might require the help of a large bird’s beak.