Ospreys

My regular spring summer fall fascination over the past seven or eight years failed to climax again this year, the osprey nest at Boulder County Fairgrounds. Last year they laid early and their first eggs were killed by a late blizzard, then the second clutch of chicks died.

It's been fun to check the nest from Time to Time and see if anything is happening. Apparently the Mom bird has already left on her migration south. A veteran of the nest, I think she's getting on up there in age and I won't be surprised if next spring sees a delay and then a new female bird, that's the way it works.

A longtime favorite and beloved, and maybe he'd been the resident male for twenty years or so, the regular dad bird failed to arrive in the spring, never returning from last winter's migration. After not too long, a new male took his place, but their eggs failed, a real disappointment.

Checking the nest today, I saw this osprey sitting on a perch, but I don't know if he's the new dad bird or a visitor, maybe someone stopping to and scout out possibilities for next spring.

There's a new nest to watch, a couple of friends put me on to it, I've been checking now and then

this one is in Grand Lake, Colorado. Three chicks, at least one has fledged and, assuming he/she's okay, was away from the nest this afternoon. The other two, one finished a meal of fresh fish as I watched, cleaned and sharpened his bill on wood sticks in the nest, then began flexing wings and rising slightly from the nest. The other one more or less just watched his sibling. I may check back in as it gets dark out there, to make sure the oldest chick is home safe.

From my Bay window here, I look out and watch our local ospreys sail by. Part of the excitement this afternoon was watching one sail and, fluttering his wings, hover over a spot as he looked for a fish. Sometimes after a successful dive and catch, the bird will sail right by my window here, clutching a fish. Best when it's a large mullet, and the osprey always clutches the fish headfirst into his direction of flight. Mullet are long, torpedo-like silver and gray, beautiful, and sometimes I see the fish wiggling his tail as, unknowing his fate, he tries to resume swimming.

Watching Hurricane Ida as it moves toward landfall in Louisiana tomorrow, potentially a category 4 storm,

it may be dumping rain on son Joe in Kentucky by this coming Wednesday.

No Sunday School blogpost today, as I'm not leading the class tomorrow.

RSF&PTL