Eagles Don't Always Come Home - Birds's Nests

Bald eagle on the nest, Phippsburg, Maine spring 2010

Eagles make enormous nests spanning 4-5 feet across. They are messy, clumsy looking nests. They do hold these giant birds and the chicks, along with whatever food they bring home.

This next nest is a Tree swallow nest. It's sitting on a bed of Thyme in my garden. In the top third of the nest in the center is an egg. This nest came from a Bluebird box on our property which is occupied by Tree Swallows. That's why the nest is square in shape. This nest had been recently abandoned, though not long before. There is feces still on the bottom right corner. This is an elegant, inviting nest.

Like eagles, Ospreys build huge nest, too. Also like eagles, they usually return to the same nest year after year. This one is on top of a utility pole. The photo was taken in February. See the snow? Osprey build nests in high places like this and are often seen atop cell phone towers. The Osprey nests are frequently disruptive to whatever the intended purpose was of their commandeered superstructure.  Under certain circumstances, power and cell phone companies have permission to remove nests.

I have a book about nest identification. It's a Petersen Field Guide titled "Eastern Bird's Nest" by Hal H. Harrison. I find bird's nests harder to identify than the birds themselves, which can be very difficult. Nests vary in appearance depending on available materials. A robin may use hay rather than sticks if that is what available. In that case, the nest would look blond and very different from one constructed of twigs. 

I'm guessing that this is the nest of a type of thrush, but I can't say for sure. It's about 4 inches across and had a mud cup consistent with thrush nest building.

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This nest is tiny by comparison to the others. It's about 3 inches across. It probably is the nest of a vireo or warbler. Moss was used on the lower half. Then, Pine needles and grass were wound around together to form the interior. It looks dry and cozy.

This nest is that of a North American robin. They use mud to make a cup and then weave other material around in the mud. The nests are about 5-6 inches across. Robins aren't too fussy about where they nest and often construct nests on and around houses. This one was attached to the side of a house in a climbing Hydrangea vine.

This nest is probably that of a flycatcher, perhaps Olive sided. Thought it looks quite whimsical, it's solidly constructed.

Baltimore orioles build nests about 40 feet up in deciduous trees and construct this pouch style nest. I love the pieces of tarpaulins that have been woven into it. On the bottom right are some white lumps of stuffing. They have been pulled from a pillow, mattress or sleeping bag.

A few years ago, I used to go almost daily to a Bald eagle nest to see what the birds were up to. I followed the progress of the two chicks born there through to the day they took their first flight. The next year, I went eagerly to the nest again. I hoped to catch another season of wonder in nest building, courting, mating and growing Bald eagle chicks.

It was early in the Maine spring. Bald eagles start courting and working on their nests in March here. The nest is on the shores of the Kennebec River where it empties into the Atlantic Ocean. Unrelenting wind blows hard, raw and cold. My fingers froze. Several times, I pulled them back into the sleeves of my jacket, like retreating turtles. I cupped one hand in the other alternately blowing warm breath into the hand cave. I put in my time in my deep desire to see the eagles. But, no eagles.

Days went by. I wondered, "Geez, where are they?” The Bald eagle pair had nested there for several years, so it was not a new place to them. I had seen them in the air a few times, so I knew they were around. But, they were not nesting. There had not been any construction or other disruptions by man in the area. What could it be? Why had they forsaken me? Me? What about me? Of course, whether they nested there or not had nothing to do with me, but somehow it felt personal.

Like a little kid, I wished really hard for them to bring in a stick or even just light on the rim of the nest to investigate. I wished like a child wishing for a certain Christmas present though she knows that Santa Claus doesn't really exist. When I heard them keening from high in the sky or across the river, I pleaded hard. "Please, please, please," as if they could hear me or understand.

But, no eagles. I had time to look around, to ponder what had changed that made this familiar nest no longer appealing to them. A few years before, they had a different nest a couple of hundred feet away. A wind storm snapped off branches from the huge, White pine that held it. That year, they moved to this newer site. Like a bridge inspector I peered at the superstructure, looking for cracks, signs of crumbling, or changes in integrity. Then, I saw it.

Slithering up the side of the tree, sixty feet into the air above me, meandered a green video cable. It crawled from the woods before climbing up the opposite side of the tree from where I had been watching. The anaconda wire was the feed for a nest cam. The BioDiversity Research Institute had positioned a camera in the nest to monitor the Bald eagle population. In the process, they had captured and banded one of the adults. Should that bird be found dead, they could know about its life history.

             I was outraged like someone had stolen my lunch money! Though heartbroken and angry, I tried to be logical. Wasn't it a good thing to monitor the eagles? Most people can't go sit and freeze their fingers to see a nest and then, hopefully, one day the ensuing young. Most people sit in their offices, stealing moments to look at video cams across the planet. They are voyeurs to the lives of puppies, heinous baby sitters, cheating partners, and eagles. Video cams and photography are ways in which the average person gets to see things they otherwise would not. And in that, they become invested in their welfare. Monitoring of eagle populations is how we came to realize that we were killing them off in the first place!

To protect our resources, it's better to know more about them, even when sometimes there are counterproductive outcomes. There’s risks and always good and bad to everything. And, truthfully, there could have been other reasons the eagles did not come back to that nest having nothing to do with the plastic cable and camera. There are normal, natural reasons that eagles do not nest every year; it’s not always pathological. Perhaps they were just bored and wanted a new place with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances, like everyone else.           

This past spring, a friend of thirty-five years called. She said she wanted to talk to me about something. 

  "What's up?" I asked.

            "I don't want to talk about it on the phone," she said.

            "Oh, come on! Just tell me!" I said, but no, she wouldn't.

So, we made a date to meet. That gave me a week to think about what she could possibly have on her mind.  

            My first thought was that something was wrong with her husband, or kids, or grandkids. "Oh God, I hope nobody's sick." I agonized. I asked my husband what he thought. "Do you think maybe there's something wrong with Mike?" My husband had no idea, either.

            With nothing to get my teeth into for a possible reason, I began to wonder if I had done something to tick her off. We hadn't talked much for months, actually. Come to think of it. So how could it be anything? It must be something. Like walking with a rock in my shoe, I went over and over every conversation between us for the past six months. I analyzed and worked over all of it, but remained mystified. Nothing. I couldn't come up with anything. Though I was at a complete loss, for the week before we were to meet, my guts were in a knot. She was my oldest, dearest friend. Nothing like this had ever gone on between us before.

            When I got to her house we hugged as we always did. Her dogs barked and jumped on me, scratching my leg through my pants as they always did. She screamed at them to get off, as she always did. She poured us each an oversized glass of red wine, as she always did. Then we, sat down in the living room, and she let me have it. Which she never did. 

            She told me I was an arrogant, social elitist snob. She said that I had totally changed and did not even look the same anymore. She said that since I had lost weight and become a celebrity, I thought I was too good for everybody else. She dredged up some year old, now friendship ancient history events, which had made her angry - things I could barely recall, never mind defend, things she had harboured for a year. She beat me over the head with the details, clear and fresh in her mind. She punched me with the word 'arrogant,' slapped me with 'snob,' screamed 'know it all,' until my ears were ringing. It was a first rate mugging.

            Like most people who are assaulted, I forgot that I ever took martial arts classes. Every kick boxing move I practiced in the gym had forsaken me. I was in disbelief at what was happening. I stared blankly at her, then laughed and blurted just the worst possible, wrong thing.

            "You're such an idiot, a moron! You can't be serious! What the hell...." I trailed off. She had to be joking. My glass of wine suddenly seemed all wrong in my hand. I set it down on the side table, carefully, before I dropped the whole thing or snapped the stem in half.

            "And that's another thing!" My old pal's smoking rant had only just begun, as it turned out. And I had just thrown gasoline on it.

            When it was 'over,' I was crying and feeling sick to my stomach. The room was quiet. Even the dogs had stopped their incessant barking, always the background to our conversations. I was still wearing my jacket, but I was cold. My fancy scarf and earrings I had chosen specifically for her to see now seemed ridiculous. My stomach churned and growled.

            "So," said my pal. "Ya ready to go out to dinner now?"

            "No, no," was my weak response.  "Are you kidding? After that?" 

            When she stood up I think I flinched. She said "I gotta let the dogs out. I'll be right back."

            She came back into the room with the bottle of wine. Still standing, she topped off her own glass. Wine dribbled down the neck of the bottle onto the carpet. She made no move to blot it up. Normally, an overly fastidious person, she would have jumped on it with a sprayer of Resolve.

            I thought, "Okay, I’m going to rise above this tantrum, this tirade, this whatever-the-hell." It had obviously bothered her, too. I said we might as well go to dinner, which we did. It was stiff. It was awkward. I watched every word that came out of my mouth. I edited and checked every joke. The spontaneous, apparently arrogant, elitist snob, know it all was having a time out.

           It's been months since that happened. I've thought about it every day. Reliving that verbal vomit session on her couch is replayed in my head nearly every night as I'm drifting off to sleep. She is my oldest friend. Friends should be able to tell each other what they feel like, right? Friends should clear the air, right? Friends should be honest, right? Friends should forgive each other, stay loyal, and get over it, right? But, I can't. I've lost some golden thread of trust. I've been told I'm a monster, a self serving, hideous beast that has stomped on my friend. And not just once. No! Apparently many times! I've been told I'm oblivious, self absorbed and uncaring!  I've been told I'm not lovable. And I can't get over it.

        There's a crevasse between us now. I see it every time we speak. My off the cuff, slap stick, jokester self dangles over the darkness waiting to die in every conversation. I can't be me anymore. In a friendship, if you can't be who you are, what is there? A friendship is where trust, loyalty and forgiveness are everything. In every other social relationship, we are at known risk. We know we would be fired for certain things, thrown out of an office for certain things, or even arrested. But a friendship is a relationship we choose because of safety in the bond.

         I don't know what to do with this. I don't know where it will end up. I take each day with her, one at a time. Maybe I'll forget. Maybe I’ll forgive. One thing I do know is that sometimes eagles do not come back to the nest.              

To watch a live Osprey nest came, visit this site: http://explore.org/#!/live-cams/player/live-osprey-cam

FLYDAY- Osprey Talons

Osprey, also known as a Fish Hawk, with talons extended. Brookville, Maine

FLYday is an homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly.

FLYday - Double Osprey Delight

FLYday is an homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly.

These are Osprey, also called Fish Hawks. The bird on the left is an adult female chasing a first summer, male bird away from the nest. The mother bird on the left has two new chicks in a nearby nest. The younger bird on the right was hatched last year and probably was trying to come back to the nest it knew when it was a new chick. Kind of sad!

FLYday - Osprey

Osprey, or "Fish Hawk" in hover flight. Phippsburg, Maine May 2011

FLYday is an homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly.

FLYday - Osprey With Flounder

Osprey With Flounder, Phippsburg, Maine

An homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly.

Designed To Sell - Osprey Carrying Stick

We went boating on the Sheepscott River last night out of Robinhood Marina in Georgetown. That's Georgetown, Maine - not Washington, D.C. We went with close friends whom we have not seen all summer, because we've all been too busy. There is something really wrong with summer and life in general when it's too hectic and clogged up to enjoy friends and lolling around on a boat doing nothing at all. As Mr. Toad would have said in the Wind In The Willows, "simply messing about in boats." That was my favorite book in all the world as a youngster. I once did an illustration for a mock cover for the book. The illustration won me a prize which was one of the most joyful moments of my childhood. What a crying shame that any of us lose the ability to just relax and  enjoy what's around us. Rather, we feel as if we have to plow through it all at high speed. In fact, when we went with our friends, we had the intention of motoring up the river to an eatery in Five Islands. This made my husband very happy because we were going to be moving and there was food involved. He has zero tolerance for just sitting anywhere not being productive. But, our plans were foiled by thick fog. We had to sit, sit in the boat slip and do nothing.  

  Of course, I had my camera, but there didn't appear to be anything much to photograph. I resigned myself to noshing on cheese and crackers with soprasata while sipping Merlot. Well, actually, truth be told, guzzling. My father always admonished, "sip, don't swill," but I never got the hang of the difference. Then, I noticed these osprey. I had seen them immediately when I set my first foot on the dock, but I've taken loads of osprey photographs. I wasn't too excited about them. Then, the osprey came in with the stick and the two youngsters popped their heads up and I was off! Waves lapping at the hull became the bass hind note to the staccato of rapid fire shutter release.

   The osprey flew in several times with additional sticks which were artfully arranged and rearranged in the nest. The youngsters watched, presumably for food which was not immediately forthcoming. They got in the way of the interior decorating a couple of times resulting in some squabbling. During the hour or so that I watched, the osprey flew in with at least four sticks, but only one fish. The bird worked feverishly as if she had to make the place tip top to sell or to keep the chicks from falling through the floor. Though the osprey was doggedly industrious, I did notice that she was also able to sit for periods, doing nothing, simply looking out to sea. Good for her. That talent definitely puts her ahead of me on the evolutionary scale.

These osprey chicks are close to flying. They are flapping their wings and jostling around in the nest for room. They will make their first, clumsy attempts to fly in another week or so. Osprey are migratory here, so they had better get their act together. Before we know what hit us, it will be fall.

For more information than you might ever want to have on Osprey, click on this link.

For information on The Wind In The Willows, click this link. Take a breather and enjoy the wild ride.

Just About Nothing - Enjoy The Fourth

The Chinese regard fish as symbolic of abundance and plenty. Apparently, a fish's tail is a good place for a nap, too. Why haven't I thought of that before?

The waning moon to the west.

The Ospreys have been very busy at low tides in Totman Cove fishing for Flounder. There are as many as a dozen of them at once. The clumsy fledglings are honing their fishing techniques.

The wild, Maine strawberries that can be found on the roadsides and fields are almost gone, thanks in part to guys like this. Yummy! I hope you have a wonderful Fourth Of July and eat lots of delicious things, perhaps strawberry shortcake is on your menu! We will be having lobster, corn on the cob, potato salad and coleslaw, to name but a few of the items. Most of all, savor the company of those you love and those who love you.

Fish Fight - Osprey And Eagle

Last evening, I was standing on my deck with a glass of wine when this Bald eagle came zooming out of the trees after this Osprey with it's evening supper. I don't know what kind of fish it had and my subjects were slightly far away for fantastic photos, but they'll do. This series of shots clearly captures the fish food fight. The Osprey won, by the way. It took for the cover of the trees with it's supper, and the eagle gave up. It went across the cove and landed in the top of a spruce tree to rest and I'm sure, to pout. I don't know what the numbers are, but my personal observations are that the eagles are not often successful with this approach to food acquisition. It takes an enormous amount of energy for them to zoom around acrobatically after the more agile osprey. Their best bet is to get the osprey to drop the fish where the eagle can get it, for example, on the rocks versus into the water. Usually, in my experience, the eagles don't keep after and osprey as this one did. They usually only try once and the Ospreys rocket straight for cover. It's a fascinating and magnificent event to witness. 

I took this a few years ago on the rocks in front of our house on Totman Cove. I have never understood why the Osprey had seaweed in it's talons. Did it think it could slap the eagle senseless with it and take back it's Striped bass dinner?

OSPREY ANTICS

I took these shots a few days ago at the mouth of the Kennebec River by Fort Popham. There, the Ospreys and seals were busy catching Alewives, not the Sand Dabs that they are after at my house. When the Ospreys were right over my head, looking for fish, it looked like they were checking me out for lunch! They have impressively large, sharp talons which could scalp a girl in no time flat. That is, if they didn't become hopelessly tangled in my hair, which would be bad for us both. Who would you call in a situation like that? The fire department to come with the Jaws Of Life or a good hairdresser? It would be a wound that would be hard to explain in a hospital emergency room, especially if I was in my bathrobe.

Enough with the birds!

The Osprey are fishing here in Totman Cove. I've seen as many as 10 at once so far this year. When the tide is low they are really busy. They are catching almost exclusively these sand dabs or baby flounder. They look like pink pancakes. Again, all of these shots I took in my bathrobe. If you see anything out there that you think I should photograph, call me and I'll come with my camera wearing my bathrobe. Promise.
























This is a Song Sparrow. They can really belt out a tune sitting high atop a tree. They are one of the very first 'song' birds to come back in the spring.