A famous painter and his assistants once caught an eagle in a trap. They covered the cage in a heavy cloth and carried it to the painter’s studio. The bird remained quiet while kept in darkness but as soon as the cloth was removed it demanded immediate release. This prompted the following dialogue.

“All in good time,” said the painter. “First, I must get a good look at you.”
“Would it not have been better, and more respectful, to do that in the wild,” the eagle countered.
“I needed to see you up close.”
“Those who see me up close usually become my dinner,” the eagle replied as it made itself as tall and imposing at the cage allowed. “Is that what you are planning to do to me?”
The painter laughed.
“No. I’m a painter. I am preparing to make a painting.”
The eagle visibly relaxed.
“Will it take long?” it asked.
“Not if you let me work.”

The eagle got the message. For some time, it sat and watched the painter scratch away in his sketchbook. But the eagle had only so much patience and when the painter paused to take tea, it could no longer remain silent.

“Is it done?” the eagle asked. “Can I go now?”
“Inspiration cannot be hurried,” the painter replied. “I have yet to discover the pose I want from you.”
“Oh, but that is easily answered,” said the eagle. “You must paint me in all my glory, in full flight, wings spread wide, commanding the air. But you will not be able to see me like that while I’m in this tiny cage?”
A radiant smile lit the painter’s face.
“Yes, yes! You are right,” he agreed. “In full flight, majestic and free. That is how I should capture you.”
“Capture me? What do you mean? I am already your captive.”
“Sorry, a figure of speech. I meant capture your image. For posterity.”
“Good, then we’re agreed. It is time to set me free.”
“In a sense,” the painter replied.

His voice betrayed a subtle twinge of remorse because it was at this juncture he swapped his pen for a sharp-pointed rod of steel, which he promptly thrust into the eagle’s heart. He then took the body, cleaned and stuffed it, fixed the wings as if in full flight, and began to paint.

© Richard Parkin 2025

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