There are ospreys here in the Hudson Valley!
First, Benjamin spotted one flying over our house. Later that same day, we went on a bike ride around the lakes, and he saw one perched on top of a snag. We stopped and stood right below her. She looked at us for only a moment. Then, not finding us particularly interesting, she continued scanning the lake. And just yesterday, as we were getting our coffee, we saw another of these gorgeous birds perched on a tree in the back woods. An osprey in our back yard! She stayed there for quite a while. It was misty out, and I like to think she was enjoying the light rain on her feathers.
Birds of prey take my heart every time.
In Florida, at Honeymoon Island State Park, the ospreys nest in March. Fuzzy babies peep from large bundles of sticks. On many of my trips home, I have stood below giant slash pines listening to their charming voices. An adult osprey’s call sounds like a beautiful laugh, the kind of laugh you make when you’re with a good friend. For me, this call has always been Florida, distinctly Southern. But now I hear it, right in my Northern back yard.
The osprey continues to return to that same bare branch. Yesterday she preened for hours. Thank you for visiting me, Osprey. I know you’re telling me it’s time to go home to Florida. I know. I’m on my way.
