The Brief

I first learned about Jackie and Shadow, the so-called “royal couple of Big Bear Valley,” during an editorial meeting here at LAist back in March. Our editors had noticed that all the stories we were publishing about these two bald eagles that starred in their own YouTube livestream were attracting a lot of attention.

People were obsessed with these literal lovebirds that were taking turns sitting on their eggs and waiting for their eaglets to hatch. Hundreds of thousands of people were tuning in to watch their livecam that overlooked their nest with a gleaming Big Bear Lake in the background.

At the time of this meeting, I had just learned that I was pregnant. It was still too early to tell people, and so I sat in my chair silently, amused that both the eagles and I were on the same journey. I also wondered if there was a way to cover the eagles for the show I host, Imperfect Paradise, a weekly narrative podcast that showcases California stories with universal significance. Our team was in the midst of production on a series about iconic predators in Southern California, and I thought the eagles could be a good addition. Maybe I could do a more personal story about pregnancy. I didn’t realize then just how personal Jackie and Shadow’s story would become.

Relating to Jackie and Shadow

My whole life I’ve wanted to start my own family. When my husband and I moved to L.A. we bought a house on a hill, our version of a nest in a tree. I learned that one of Jackie and Shadow fans’ favorite things to watch for in the livestream was how they worked as a team: Shadow brought Jackie food and sticks back to the nest; they would switch off and take turns sitting on their three eggs; every time Jackie called for Shadow, he would hear her and fly back to the nest.

I could relate. In those first weeks of pregnancy, I would sometimes fall asleep around 5 p.m., waking up a couple of hours later bleary eyed and confused, begging my husband for a glass of water.

Jackie and Shadow at their nest. (Friends of Big Bear Valley Facebook page)

Those weeks were full of joyful anticipation. I started watching TikToks of people suggesting names that would work in both English and Spanish. I downloaded one of those apps that let me know that the embryo inside of me was the size of an olive. But I also found pregnancy to be a pretty anxious time. I had a really hard time sleeping, and I was flooded by negative self thoughts.

Their family saga mirrored mine

March of 2024 was also an anxious time for Jackie and Shadow fans. The average incubation time for a bald eagle egg is 35 days. Jackie had laid her first egg on Jan. 25. By mid-March, there were still no pips — the little cracks in a shell made by eaglets as they start to poke their way out. Comments flooded the Friends of Big Bear Valley Facebook fan page. People sent prayers and called the birds “amazing” in their dedication to their eggs. But slowly, hope for each egg waned.

In mid April, around the same time when it became clear Jackie and Shadow would not have eaglets this nesting season, I had my first ultrasound. I could see on the sonogram an inky black sack that my doctor said was my pregnancy sack. She moved the probe around, and it looked like darkness within darkness.

"Are they hiding from us?" I jokingly said.

When my doctor didn't say anything back, I knew something was really wrong. The doctor told me I likely had a blighted ovum. It’s when a fertilized egg implants in your uterine lining but does not develop into an embryo. I remember squeezing my husband's hand as fat tears rolled down my cheeks.

The days after I learned of my miscarriage, I took time off of work. The next morning, I drove myself, as if possessed, to Home Depot right when it opened at 6 a.m. I bought bags of dirt, mulch, seeds and seedlings. I spent the next several days with my hands in the ground. I needed to distract myself from one specific thought — that I deserved this. Someone with as much anxiety as me, with my lack of self-confidence, someone as ungrateful as I am didn’t deserve to be a mother.

Then, I would react to my reaction. How could I be so cruel to myself? There didn’t have to be an explanation for what happened to me other than that it happened. But then, how could I make sense of this? My mind would go in loops and loops, alternating from hating myself to feeling general existential despair.

Processing Jackie and Shadow's story to help me process mine

I returned to work and felt determined to tell the story about Jackie and Shadow. I felt like working on that story could help get me out of the doom loop I was stuck in. I had LAist reporter Makenna Sieverston who had been doing a lot of the Jackie and Shadow coverage join me in the studio to tell me their whole saga. Over an hour into our conversation, we got to the part where Jackie and Shadow realized themselves that their eggs wouldn’t be viable. Makenna described Shadow’s behavior when he saw one of the eggs had cracked.

“He sat on the edge of the nest for quite some time. He saw the egg flipped over, and he saw that it was broken. He flew away; he stayed away longer than he ever had been. They did both come back to the nest that night. Jackie ended up covering the last two eggs with enough fluff to hide them from the cameras. And they slept away from the nest that night, but they have a favorite roosting tree. They were spotted together on the roosting trees, snuggled up.”

When I heard this description of the two eagles looking on at their eggs that wouldn’t hatch from a nearby roosting tree, I started to cry. I felt a bit ridiculous losing my composure listening to a story about two internet-famous eagles. The situation made me laugh, as I sobbed and continued to ask Makenna questions.

I asked, “What's up with them now?”

And Makenna responded, “They ended up cleaning up the nests, making the nest ready for the next time.”

A still from the Eagle Cam in Big Bear Valley. Jackie and Shadow are expecting their eggs to hatch any day now.

(

Friends Of Big Bear Valley

/

YouTube

)

It was a relief to hear that the eagles are moving on. In my post miscarriage garden trance, I picked up a book by a psychoanalyst named Sue Stuart Smith called The Well Gardened Mind: Rediscovering Nature in the Modern World. In it, she describes how in our brains we have specialized cells called mirror neurons in the motor parts of our cortex. As we observe movement, they fire…and make us feel as if we are making the movements ourselves.

Stuart Smith writes, “The fascination of watching a bird as it glides is that we, in part, glide along with it. Because the experience is being actively simulated within us, we can project ourselves into the bird as if we are accompanying it on its flight.”

When you go through a miscarriage, one of the first things you learn is how many people you know that have also gone through one. And it does feel good to know you’re not alone. It’s even more powerful when you realize you’re experiencing something alongside the whole natural world.

Listen: Lions, Coyotes, & Bears…and Eagles!

Listen 29:00

Apple

Spotify

Jackie and Shadow are two beloved bald eagles who live in Big Bear, a ski town a couple hours northeast of L.A. They went viral in 2024, as people tuned in to a livestream of their nest to see if their eggs would hatch. Fans around the world became deeply attached to the lovebirds, obsessing over the couple’s devotion to each other and their eggs. For Imperfect Paradise host Antonia Cereijido, the story became personal when she also began her parenthood journey. Antonia explores how our relationship to wildlife can help us better understand ourselves.

CONTENT ADVISORY: This episode includes details about pregnancy complications.

Lions, Coyotes, & Bears: Part 4 - The Eagle Lovebirds

Jackie and Shadow are two beloved bald eagles who live in Big Bear, a ski town a couple hours northeast of L.A. They went viral in 2024, as people tuned in to a livestream of their nest to see if their eggs would hatch. Fans around the world became deeply attached to the lovebirds, obsessing over the couple’s devotion to each other and their eggs. For Imperfect Paradise host Antonia Cereijido, the story became personal when she also began her parenthood journey. Antonia explores how our relationship to wildlife can help us better understand ourselves.

CONTENT ADVISORY: This episode includes details about pregnancy complications.

Subscribe

• Apple
• Spotify

This story first appeared on The LA Local.

Rabbi Amy Bernstein says the wind-whipped fire in January 2025 that scorched much of the Pacific Palisades, destroying her home and damaging her synagogue, “blew everything open” for the community’s faith leaders.

“If our hearts must break, let them break open,” said the rabbi, who leads Kehillat Israel where 300 families out of 900 lost their homes. “This tragedy has really pushed us closer to one another. We’re working to change the things we need changed.”

Faith leaders both in the Pacific Palisades and in Altadena and Pasadena — devastated by the pair of fires that tore across Southern California — have relied on interfaith and community partnerships to rally congregants who are picking up the pieces 16 months later.

They’ve had to learn on the fly about insurance coverage and local land use regulations while still trying to keep their scattered flock together and raising money for basic needs. Pastors in Altadena have had to fight to protect the rights of Black people who decades ago found pathways to home ownership in that community despite redlining — but now risk losing their land to outside developers who sense an investment opportunity.

And throughout this span, faith leaders have had to cater to the emotional and spiritual needs of their communities and think about how they want to rebuild their sanctuaries that were lost or damaged in the fire. More than a dozen houses of worship burned to the ground or were damaged.

Interfaith relationships have become stronger after the fires

This would have been difficult for faith leaders to handle but for the interfaith relationships that became closer and stronger after the fires, said the Rev. Grace Park, associate pastor at Pacific Palisades Presbyterian Church, which burned down.

Methodists, Presbyterians, Catholics, Jews and yogis have not just found common ground in human suffering and loss, but have learned how to lean on one another in a time of dire need, she said.

“It’s a sense of mutual affection and respect, learning from each other and leaning on one another,” Park said. “We’re sharing the joys and the deep valleys of what it means to lead through a time of tragedy.”

Brother Satyananda, a senior monk at the Self Realization Fellowship, lost his living quarters and belongings in the fire. Much of the campus, started by Paramahamsa Yogananda who brought ancient spiritual practices from India to the West, fortunately survived the fire.

Satyananda recalls one day when Bernstein picked up on his sadness and offered him “motherly compassion.”

“We share the same profession where we’re tuned to people in need,” he said. “Now, our relationship has changed because we’re tuning into each other. There’s a greater level of trust.”

Pastor BJ King, who leads LoveLand LifeCenter, worked with the late Rev. Cecil B. Murray to heal communities and build interfaith coalitions after the 1992 Los Angeles riots.

“Back then, there was a choice whether or not to get involved,” he said. “But with these fires, there is no choice. It has affected everybody.”

Pastors have had to acquire new skills

King’s congregation has switched to online services after their leased church building in Altadena suffered smoke damage. Twelve families lost their homes. In addition to helping meet people’s basic needs, King has created a program organizing gatherings to connect therapists with those in need of mental health.

“Many people didn’t even know they needed that,” he said.

One of the most powerful roles faith leaders have played after the fire is to “continue to talk with power, people in charge,” said Pastor Jonathan DeCuir, who leads Victory Bible Church in Pasadena. He and others in the region have continued to meet with local officials and even conferred with Gov. Gavin Newsom to keep things moving for their communities.

DeCuir chairs the board of a nonprofit called Legacy Land Project, which provides financial aid, legal support and guidance on building contractors, as well as medical care to those affected by the fires.

The disaster has brought a level of camaraderie that DeCuir says he has never seen among the region’s clergy.

“Denominational lines have been crossed,” he said. “Even if we have different theological stances or approaches to ministry, we are all now looking at how to care for our people and community. If we don’t come together, Altadena will never ever be the same. The people won’t be there anymore. That, to me, is terrifying.”

While a church is more than a building, physical churches do appear as “beacons of hope” in traumatized communities, said Pastor Mayra Macedo-Nolan, executive director of Clergy Community Coalition in Pasadena. Her group has lobbied for houses of worship to be prioritized on the same footing as businesses in the rebuilding plan.

“When people start seeing churches rebuilding in Altadena, they’re going to feel like it’s going to be OK because the churches are coming back,” she said.

Reimagining a purposeful future

Pastor Jonathan Lewis, fourth from right, holds a groundbreaking service at the site of the burned Fountain of Life Nazarene Church to mark the beginning of its rebuilding in Altadena, Calif., April 26, 2026.

(

Damian Dovarganes

/

AP Photo

)

Members of the congregation join in prayer during the groundbreaking ceremony at the site of the burned Fountain of Life Nazarene Church, marking the beginning of its rebuilding, April 26, 2026, in Altadena, Calif.

(

Damian Dovarganes

/

AP Photo

)

Pastor Jonathan Lewis poses for a photo with his congregation during a groundbreaking service at the site of the burned Fountain of Life Nazarene Church, marking the beginning of its rebuilding, April 26, 2026, in Altadena, Calif.

(

Damian Dovarganes

/

AP Photo

)

On April 26, the Altadena Fountain of Life Church broke ground to build a new sanctuary after their house of worship, which had stood for over three decades, was destroyed in the fire. Pastor Jonathan Lewis, who ministers to about 75, hopes the church will be ready in time for Easter next year.

“It’ll be a Resurrection Sunday for our church, too,” he said.

Alexis Duncan, who grew up in Altadena attending that church, came to the groundbreaking with her 6-year-old daughter. She lost both her home and her church building.

“It means everything to me that they’re rebuilding because I want the church to be there for my daughter as she grows up,” she said. “This new beginning gives me and my family hope and the encouragement to come back.”

Some churches like Altadena Community Church, a United Church of Christ congregation, are pausing to rethink their future purpose. The Rev. Michael Lewis, who took over in February after the previous pastor retired, said the congregation is looking into several possibilities for the one-acre lot, including affordable housing.

“We know that a church is not intended to be a landlord and the pastor is no property manager,” he said. “But, we’re also thinking about who is able to return to Altadena? How will this rich, economically diverse community that was scattered by the fire come back?”

The church has been around since the 1940s. A haven for actors, poets and musicians, the former sanctuary also served as a vibrant performance space. Lewis said they hope to incorporate a performance stage into the new facility.

“It’ll look different from what we had before,” he said. “Once we figure out how to build community, we can decide what physical structures will help us support that community.”

As for Kehillat Israel, on May 15, members will carry their Torah scrolls back to their sanctuary, marking one of the first returns by a house of worship to the Palisades since the disaster.

Judaism has had “a long history of starting over,” Bernstein said.

“It’s encoded in our cultural approach to the world, that there are things that can always be taken away from you,” she said. “But what you become can never get taken away.”

Gov. Gavin Newsom announced Friday that he has requested a yearlong extension of FEMA funding for L.A. fire survivors. Without the extension, the money will run out July 9.

Now the decision on FEMA support lies with the federal government.

The funds have allowed many survivors to afford temporary housing and other daily needs. Most have yet to return home — 2 in 3 survivors who were living in Altadena or Pacific Palisades at the time of the fires are still displaced, according to the latest survey of more than 2,100 survivors by the nonprofit Department of Angels. Nearly 40% of respondents reported they will either soon run out of temporary housing insurance coverage or have already.

The situation is particularly dire for low-income households: Nearly 80% of respondents making $50,000 or less said they didn’t think they could afford housing for three months once coverage ended.

“The data is clear: This recovery is not over,” said Angela Giacchetti of the Department of Angels at a news conference organized by the Eaton Fire Collaborative in Altadena on Thursday. “If you are a survivor, you know this in your bones. For many families, it has barely begun. People have just begun to stabilize. We need federal support that reflects the scale of this disaster and systems that survivors can actually navigate and access over time.”

FEMA assistance isn’t reaching most survivors

The FEMA Individuals and Households Program can provide funding for survivors of disasters to pay for temporary housing, repair their homes, and respond to other challenges that insurance may not cover. It can also help cover costs if a survivor has no insurance.

Gil Barel has been relying on FEMA funds to pay rent on a small back house for herself and her son for the last year. She said they still haven’t been able to return to their rent-controlled Pasadena apartment because of smoke damage, though she still has to pay the rent for it.

Gil Barel is paying rent on a smoke-damaged apartment in Pasadena while FEMA funds have helped her cut the cost of temporary housing.

(

Erin Stone

/

LAist

)

Barel doesn’t know what they’ll do if the FEMA funding runs out.

“ I'm really stressed out,” she said. “I think I'm just kind of trying to put that thought aside and hope for the best.”

But in the 15 months since the fires, most survivors have not accessed FEMA funding. About 60% have received no FEMA assistance beyond the initial $770 payments dispersed in the immediate aftermath of the fires, according to the Department of Angels survey.

Many have faced denials, according to disaster case manager workers with Catholic Charities of L.A. and lawyers with Legal Aid Foundation of L.A.

That’s the situation for Gayle Nicholls-Ali and her husband, Rasheed, who lost their Altadena home of 15 years in the Eaton Fire. They’ve relied on their insurance to pay for a rental in Montrose, but that’s rapidly running out. And because they have that insurance, FEMA has denied further support.

Gayle Nicholls-Ali and her husband, Rasheed, lost their home in the Eaton Fire. They plan to rebuild, but the cost is a major hurdle.

(

Erin Stone

/

LAist

)

“A lot of our ALE [Additional Living Expenses insurance] is going to run out before we even are able to get into a house,” Nicholls-Ali said.

Without FEMA or insurance support, they’ll have to find a way to pay rent on top of a mortgage. They also face a big gap in the cost of their rebuild versus how much their insurance covers. Nicholls-Ali said without the help of FEMA and other sources of funding, recovering feels further out of reach.

Funds for long-term recovery still in limbo

FEMA funding extensions have been routine in past disasters, including the 2023 wildfires in Hawaii and after devastating flooding in North Carolina in 2024.

But the agency has faced significant cuts during the second Trump administration, and there are indications that disaster aid is becoming increasingly political. For example, President Donald Trump has approved aid for just 23% of requests from states with a Democratic governor and two Democratic senators, compared to 89% for states that with Republican governors and senators, according to an analysis by Politico.

The state has also not received more than $33 billion for long-term recovery, which can help pay for infrastructure upgrades and repairs, as well as help rebuild schools, parks and homes. That money was requested by state and local leaders shortly after the January 2025 fires and hasn’t been appropriated by Congress.

An international team of disease detectives is now racing to connect with the more than two dozen passengers who disembarked the MV Honius cruise ship on the Atlantic island of St. Helena before the hantavirus outbreak was identified.

These individuals have flown across the world, including to the United States.

The risk of further spread of this virus is low since it requires close and prolonged contact with an infected individual — and those infected seem to transmit the virus for only a brief period of time. But public health officials want to make sure the outbreak is contained.

Here's how authorities are using the practice of contact tracing to contain the outbreak and keep the hantavirus from spreading.

Contact tracing 101

The concept of modern contact tracing dates to the 1930s and was part of an effort to stop the spread of syphilis. It involves locating the close contacts of anyone who may have been infected. "By identifying people who are at risk of infection," says Preeti Malani, an infectious disease physician at the University of Michigan, "you try to get ahead when people don't have symptoms yet with the goal of preventing the infection from continuing to propagate."

This is a well-tested approach for containing an infectious disease. "It's the oldest tool in the epidemiologic toolbox," explains Malani. "We thought about this a lot early in the pandemic with COVID. But we also do contact tracing for sexually transmitted infections, for things like meningitis and even measles."

Malani likens contact tracing to monitoring ripples in a pond, "trying to prevent those outer rings from propagating by isolating individuals and by identifying individuals who might be at risk of infection."

The idea that "there's a time period where people don't have symptoms but could be harboring the virus, that's what contact tracing helps identify," says Malani.

It starts by pinpointing someone with an infection or suspected infection of the disease in question — in this case, hantavirus. Epidemiologists then look to see with whom they've recently had close contact since these individuals are more likely to have been infected.

This hunt for those with the greatest probability of infection is important. "Otherwise, it becomes an impossible web to contain because everyone is connected to everyone," says Boghuma Titanji, an infectious diseases doctor at Emory University. "So you have to stratify by high, intermediate and low-risk contacts."

The next step involves public health agencies ordering precautions for those who are infected or who may be infected but aren't showing symptoms yet. Such measures may include quarantine, so that an individual doesn't come into contact with even more people — who may then become infected.

One challenge that hantavirus presents is that its incubation period can last up to several weeks. In other words, "people take a long time to become symptomatic after they've been exposed," says Titanji. "Some of these primary contacts would have to be monitoring themselves for symptoms for up to 45 days to be at the tail end of that very long incubation period."

Aboard and ashore

The work isn't high-tech but it is painstaking, requiring officials to reconstruct the many interactions someone may have had over days or weeks.

Onboard the cruise ship, "you might have an individual who is a source of an infection," says Titanji, laying out a hypothetical example. "And then they were sitting at a dinner table with one individual who then goes back to their cabin and shares a bed with their partner who has a conversation with someone else on the deck."

Once someone disembarks the ship, the number of potential interactions can grow quite quickly. This is why officials were concerned when a KLM flight attendant fell ill after being aboard a flight with one of the infected cruise ship passengers. Fortunately, the flight attendant ultimately tested negative for hantavirus.

Titanji is heartened by what she's seen playing out so far. "It seems like the international collaborative effort has been really robust and the mechanisms for containment are in place and underway," she says.

Public health officials argue that contact tracing is a powerful approach that will reduce further spread. "We can break this chain of transmission," said Abdi Mahmoud, the director of the World Health Organization's health emergency alert and response efforts, at a press conference on Thursday.

He has good reason to be confident. Contact tracing was vital during the fight against COVID-19 and helped end the Ebola crisis in Liberia, containing the epidemic there more than a decade ago. Some of the contact tracing even involved hours-long hikes through the jungle to a remote village.

Authorities are hoping for similar success with this hantavirus outbreak.
Copyright 2026 NPR

The sky above Los Angeles State Historic Park in Chinatown will be dotted with color Saturday with the annual Kite Festival.

The festival had its beginnings as a joyful protest in 2021, back when a proposal for a Dodger Stadium gondola included cutting through the airspace above the park. Organizers say last year’s Kite Festival drew a crowd of about 7,000.

“The Kite Festival, [for] some people, it’s their favorite day in Los Angeles,” said Sue Bell Yank, executive director of Clockshop, the nonprofit arts org that runs the festival. “It’s the time when they really feel connected to their city. More so than any other time.”

This year’s programming includes a kite-making station where you can build your own flying art for a donation of $5, along with art workshops and the unveiling of a large floating, inflatable sculpture by Guatemalan kite artist Francisco Ramos.