
Cheers to 2025
Every New Year holds promise, as though it is any different from the turn of
“A master’s eyes catches the errors, as an eagle on it’s prey” Jeevi
One evening many decades ago, my dad shared a special story about the Eagle with my siblings and I. As kids, asking us to sit in one place was like trying to tell a fire not to burn. But whenever my old man announced gleefully that it was story time, we huddled together quickly and looked up to him excitedly.
Sometimes the stories ended with a short comical song and at other times it ended with a brief recap to share the lessons learnt. It was a moment in my childhood that I will forever cherish and hope to replicate with my kids.
Today, I share this interesting story with you excitedly. The narrative is as dramatic and descriptive as it can get, all in a bid to drive home the message.
Although I credited the story to my father for many years whenever I retold it, lately however, he was kind enough to explain to me that he first read about it off the widely famous book titled “Things fall Apart” authored by the distinguished Nigerian Scholar – Professor Chinua Achebe. The book is acclaimed as the finest novel written about life in Nigeria at the end of the nineteenth century.
I will start with the first lesson to be learnt in this story as instilled in the proverb below;
“There is nothing to fear from someone who shouts.” – Men who shout should not be feared, as that is the most they will do. They will never be the type of person to take physical action; therefore, you should not fear them.
The Story
One of the young eaglets from a nest high up on the tallest tree around an undeveloped area not too far away from a village, was eager to take short flights while his primary feathers grow and strengthen.
The fledging eaglet takes his first full flight hunting for food one hot afternoon. He flies strong against the headwind spreading and flapping his wing as he scans the village with his head moving fast in small jerky motions for his prey.
From his view up in the sky, the eaglet caught a glimpse of a colorful set of creatures in a nearby village stream. It’s the duck and her duckling waddling through the water like they have got some kind of outboard motor. They appeared to be gliding so smoothly but underneath the surface their legs were working hard to move them along.
“This looks like an easy prey” The young eagle thought.
In a swift move, the young majestic bird made an effortless swoop down close to the water, dropping his feet right in the water while closing all the talons together in a vice-like grip on one of the ducklings. It was a brilliant maneuver and he had watched his mother do it so many times.
As he soared high into the sky flapping his wings towards their perch, he cast a cursory glance at the stream to savor the reaction from the duck. But alas, there was none whatsoever. The duck waddled on as though nothing happened almost oblivious of the heist perfectly executed by the young eagle.

On arrival at their perch up on the tree, he excitedly beckons to his mother showing off his catch and his hunting prowess. Expectedly, Mother eagle asked him a few questions;
“Where did you get this beautiful looking creature?”
“I swooped on a strange looking bird on a stream at the nearby village and hurried back home” The eaglet boasted, pleased with himself.
“And what did the mother do?” the questions continued
“Oh well…..” he hesitated at first “She didn’t even bat an eyelid, I was too fast for her to notice”
“Then you must return this creature to the mother at once!” The mother ordered.
Baffled and confused, the eaglet sought for more explanation
“You must only fetch prey from mothers who would do a lot more to keep their offspring away from marauders like us. So you must return this one at once”
Off it went again spreading his wings and gliding through the air with the duckling between its claws. When he got within distance to the stream, he lowered his fortunate prey next to its mother and flaps his wings to continue his search for his afternoon meal.
Out of curiosity, he looked down to see the reaction of the mother duck- Yet again, he finds none! The duck continued to waddle through the murky waters, while the little duckling shakes off the fright to tell the rest of her siblings her exciting view of the earth from the talons of the eagle.
Within minutes, the young eagle suddenly sights another sort of bird, but this time, not on a stream and certainly not as colorful or even as remotely attractive as the duckling. This creature moved on the land foraging and scavenging for food by tidbitting. The hen was leading the chicks to food and water and occasionally called them toward edible items. The eaglet observed keenly while circling the area. It had a quite a number of offsprings and it made a bit of noise while at it–clucking.
“This should be easy” The young eaglet concluded.
Instinctively, he made a swooping move for one of the chicks exactly in the same manner he did moments earlier with the duckling. He however didn’t envisage the defensive response from the mother hen. The mother hen drew herself up to twice her normal height, flaring her hackle feathers and raising her wings outwards. It perked although unsuccessfully, fluttered its wings in an attempt to beat the eagle and squawked so loud it echoed into the afternoon sky.

The defense didn’t stop at that, as the hen jumped and jumped, flapping its small wings in a failed attempt to rescue its chick. In the end, she could only watch as the young eagle soared beyond her reach flapping its broad wings leaving in its wake, dust and noise like a bitter widow.
The young eagle didn’t bother to look back this time, it feared for his safety. Suddenly, hunting wasn’t such a pleasant experience afterall.
It arrived its perch in no time and delivered the chick into the nest for the mother eagle to inspect.
“This looks a bit different from the other one. Where did you get this one?”
The eaglet explained his travails to his mother and the spirited fight of the mother hen as he picked up the chick. He was almost out of breath when he was done narrating his ordeal.

“Good work Son, this is the sort of meal worth waiting for. This is good enough to eat”
She then goes on to explain to the young eagle “There is nothing to fear from someone who shouts, that’s the best they would ever do. Shout, scream, fight, scratch, curse and all. But those who keep silent and stay watching you while you wrong them, please beware of how evil they can get”
Need I say more?
I will close this story with the proverb below;
“When mother-cow is chewing grass its young ones watch its mouth”
Thank you Baba Akin for sharing the story!!!!
Please share your comments. I would love to read from you.

Every New Year holds promise, as though it is any different from the turn of

In an era that increasingly demands hyper-specialization, Akin Akingbogun stands out as a refreshing anomaly. He is a man who refuses to be confined to a single box.

There is a particular kind of silence that falls on a man when the phone stops ringing, the proposals go unanswered, and the diary that once groaned under the weight of appointments sits quietly — almost mockingly — open. If you have ever been there, you know it.

Let me tell you something uncomfortable: the most generous person you know — the one who volunteers every weekend, donates quietly, never asks for anything in return — is probably getting something out of it. Not money. Maybe not even recognition. But something.

Adaeze had been awake since 4 a.m.
Not because she was anxious — though she was — but because this trip felt different. After eighteen months of follow-ups, phone calls, and PowerPoint presentations polished to a mirror shine, the deal was finally ready to close. An investor meeting in Abuja. A partnership that would change the trajectory of her small but gutsy consulting firm. She had triple-checked her flight, her documents, her outfit. She had prayed. She was ready.

When he told his father, Dare’s first response was a sigh. Then: “I told you to practice more. I told you months ago. You don’t listen. You never listen.”
There was no “I’m sorry, son.” No pause to let the boy simply feel the loss of the thing he wanted. Just a swift, seamless pivot to what Temi had done wrong — and, by extension, how Temi’s failure was evidence of Temi’s failure to take his father’s wisdom seriously.

I want to tell you something that took me embarrassingly long to learn. Not because the idea is complicated — it is not. But because it cuts against something deeply wired in us, something we are rarely honest enough to admit.

You are somewhere between forty and fifty-five. You looked in the mirror recently and had a thought you immediately dismissed. Maybe you googled something at 2am that you would never say out loud. Maybe you bought something expensive and impractical and told everyone it was an investment. Or maybe you just feel — quietly, persistently — like the life you built was supposed to feel better than this by now.

Anton Chekhov was a Russian physician and playwright — a man trained in the discipline of diagnosis before he became one of the most precise storytellers in the history of world literature. That combination of sensibilities matters, because the principle he articulated in the late nineteenth century was not merely a rule of dramatic craft. It was an observation about the nature of significance itself. About what it means for something to be present. About the relationship between introduction and consequence.

There is a prison that has no concrete walls, no iron bars, no guards posted at the gate. Nobody built it for you. Nobody sentenced you to it. And yet, for many people, it is the place they spend the better part of their lives — circling its perimeter, brushing their fingers against its invisible boundaries, and quietly retreating each time they feel the edge of something that might require more of them than they believe they can give.

Picture a hand holding sand. The tighter the grip, the faster the grains escape between the fingers. Ease the grip — open the palm, allow the hand to become a vessel rather than a vice — and the sand stays. This is one of the oldest paradoxes of leadership, and one of the least learned: that control, pursued too aggressively, produces the very loss of control it was designed to prevent.

There is a version of ambition that builds. And there is a version of ambition that consumes. From a distance — and especially from inside it — they look almost identical. Both are energetic. Both are forward-moving. Both speak the language of vision and possibility. The difference only becomes visible later, usually at the point of fracture, when what was built begins to come apart under the weight of what was promised.

There is a particular kind of organisational absurdity that most people who have ever worked in a company will recognise immediately. It is the policy that was clearly designed by someone who has never had to implement it. The restructuring that looked elegant on a slide deck and chaotic on the ground. The customer-facing process that was overhauled by a committee that has not spoken to a customer in years. The directive that arrives from above, fully formed and non-negotiable, that causes the people closest to the work to exchange a look — the kind of look that says, without words: they have no idea what we actually do here.

We have built an entire mythology around exhaustion. In boardrooms and business culture — perhaps nowhere more so than in the high-pressure, always-on professional culture many of us inhabit — busyness has become a currency. To be tired is to be serious. To be overwhelmed is to be important. To be burning out, quietly, is somehow proof that you are fully committed.
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9 thoughts on “Lessons from the Eagle”
You can never know the plans of someone who is silent in the face of obvious provocation. But is it always a bad thing?
True! Absolutely true!
Whaoo! Sure made for an interesting read! Kudos Akin.
Thank you sis!
Nice story Akin,the description gave it a movie-like experience
It was a pleasure writing it. Trust me!
Interesting and captivating. Keep it up sir . More wisdom and knowledge
Thanks plentiful
Silent is deadly, empty vessel make the most noise!,so they say. Keep it up