loons and a bald eagle?

Mom, Penny-pup and I, tired of being inside on such a steamy summer day, drove down the hill to the lake (the thing to do on a beautiful afternoon). As we trudged down the sandy slope to the water's edge, we were unaware that we were about to become witnesses of an epic event. I slid my feet into the water; refreshing, indeed, but there was something amiss. Across the water, a single loon (common sight) was calling not in the typical 'laughing' tone, but in a shrill almost seagull-like cry. Was it shouting for help? Was it injured, or was it mourning the loss of a chick or mate? Another minute passed. A second bird joins the scene. From afar, even without my distance glasses, I could immediately see that the bird curving around the opposite shore of the lake was a bald eagle: its enormous presence in the air, white head and tail, and weight as it swooped over the loon in the water and shook the tall pine it landed in. (My mom shrieks, "The Eagle has landed!", only after a moment realizing the ridiculous coincidence of this week being the moon-landing anniversary.) Less than 30 seconds later, a second loon streaked across the sky, squawking, flapping, following the path of the eagle, and landed in the water next to the other loon. Both loons floated under the tree the eagle was in for nearly half an hour, both loons never lightening their dire, depressing calls. A man in a kayak weaved in and out underneath the tree where we believed the eagle to be. The eagle must have interfered with the loon's nest... a chick, or possibly an egg? In an instant, the eagle took off from its limb and began to soar the perimeter of the lake. Gloriously immense and powerful in flight--- the eagle circles closer, closer, closer to where we are standing on the beach--- it soars right above our heads. The loons floated along the shoreline together, silent, bobbing slightly as they return home.