The one fledgling, I’m assuming the one holding its wings down, died.
The one osprey that thrived seemed to show off a bit at the end of the season, before she left. She was fishing near the nest, swooping down. It’s almost like they do say goodbye. I always felt a little sorry for her. Her parents were gone. Her sibling had died. She was on her own.
We walked to the base of the tree. There was the dead bird. I took some feathers from her and saved them.
Weeks later, strong winds came. The whole branch fell where the huge nest sat.
Today I was sitting at a traffic light in Orlando and I heard a bird screaming, as if it was in distress. I began looking up, around, everywhere. Then I saw it: An osprey hovering, screaming, with what appeared to be nesting material in his beak. He dove, came back up, hovered, and continued his display.
I smiled. This was an osprey luring in his mate. I looked around and saw another osprey nearby. I realized I almost forgot it’s getting to be that time of year again!
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