“They soar,” Tsogoo says, lifting his hand high above his head. “Magnificent! The eagle is king amongst the birds.”  

These birds, with their hooked beaks and keen eyesight, not to mention their strong legs and impressive talons, possess a fierce nobility that demands respect. During the warmer months many raptors make their home on the Mongolian steppe or on its craggy peaks. Traveling in the countryside we often spot a hawk or a falcon perched on one of the white kilometre posts that mark our journey, but the sight of a small, brown steppe eagle will always cause us to put our foot on the brake.

From the safety of the car we eyeball one another, his pale yellow eyes sizing us up until, with a flap of nonchalance; he extends his wings and climbs effortlessly into the blue. He’s a hunter; an abductor stealing prey from the very mouth of another bird as it dashes for home. This eagle is an opportunist circling high and low scanning his territory for a tasty morsel.

“Yes Tsogoo,” I reply, “the eagle is magnificent.”  

              “Many myths exist about the eagle,” says Tsogoo, “but nothing is more fascinating than the truth.” He’s right. The truth often is more wonderful than fiction. “Do you know how a mother eagle trains her young to fly?” he asks.

              “I’ve heard she pushes them out of the nest, forcing them to fly.”

              “No!” Tsogoo says. “It is much more complex than that, and a beautiful illustration of God’s nurturing of us.” Tsogoo rubs his hands together, “Eaglets have to be taught how to fly,” he says with glee. “Their parents build large comfortable nests furnished with twigs and padded with rags and camel dung. It is a safe environment for the chicks to be born into and they begin life having their every need met. However,” he raises a finger, “a few weeks into this routine the mother begins stripping the nest of the soft rags and twigs until it’s no longer a comfortable place for the chicks to be.

“Hovering a few feet above the nest, she holds her wings steady as she demonstrates that, despite her chicks’ discomfort, she is still in control. Eventually she places her wing on the edge of the nest and encourages her young to step onto it. If they stubbornly refuse she starts beating them until, left with no choice, they step out. Once there she lets them experience their first flight. Returning to the nest she repeats the process again and again until, sensing the chicks’ growing confidence, she shakes him from her wing and lets him tumble. Some fly but many fall and, swooping down beneath them, she catches those caught in freefall.”

Tsogoo stops, rubbing his chin for a moment as a grin spreads across his face. “My experience of walking with God is so similar to that chick’s,” he says. “When I’m feeling comfortable God often comes close and begins stirring up my world until I recognise, whether I want to or not, that I must step out. Trembling, I take a shaky step and find that His presence is close, upholding me, but then He seems to distance Himself and I begin falling. I cry out and He comes, scooping me up, and letting me rest in the warmth of his closeness again. But He never lets me remain there for long. He’s always nudging me higher so that, slowly, losing my clumsy awkwardness, I learn to fly with great strength and agility and realise that I am, indeed, growing closer to God.”