Island Creek Ospreys

Tag: Big Daddy

  • 2023-1: Big Mama Attacked

    2023-1: Big Mama Attacked

    The Bennets and Perfects arrived even earlier than the previous year. Big Mama arrived  March 18, Big Daddy two days later, they were mating by March 21.

    On March 26, far from the first time this season, Big Mama rocketed into the air to repulse an intruder. They became entangled and dropped into the water still intertwined. The intruder flew practically at the moment of the splash.

    Big Mama floated beneath her nest, head up and wings outstretched, surely no more than two or three minutes. It felt an hour watching. She struggled and failed to pull herself out of the water twice, every feather drenched, even her head, she’d clearly completely submerged. She lifted free on her third try and reached her nest. She had a brightly bleeding gash down her breast.

    Big Mama, left, has butterscotch colored eyes, Big Daddy on right.

    She healed within a month to no apparent ill effect, wasn’t so fierce and stopped rocketing off her nest.

    Measured birds  per square foot, St. George Island might have been the Osprey Capital of the World.

    The Perfects and Bennets further than ever ahead of schedule, arrived the first week of March. Fishing was stupendous. I watched Mr. B deliver a fish in each foot mid-March, then later, the male on the North-North Nest did the same.

    Fish, tall pines, the increasingly  dilapidated remnants of man-made platforms, these drew the the fledge classes of ’20 and ’21, successful years for the “Chesapeake” imprint.

    The day Big Mama got slashed, Mark-8 made his dramatic arrival, streaking out of the water bushes at the shore and smashing an intruder off Nest 1.

    At the eruption next door, Mrs. Bennet split and didn’t return to her Nest 2 until the next day. And then refused to resume the mating regiment of the past three weeks with Mr. Bennet. But she relented the next day, March 28, the same day Ethel returned. And Mrs. B split again.

    Previous Episode 2022-5:  Ethel Was Liberated

    Upcoming Episode 2023-2: Ethel Remains Liberated

  • 2022-5:  Ethel Was Liberated

    2022-5:  Ethel Was Liberated

    Ethel, in the nest, and Mark-8 perched above, don’t seem to be really into one another.

    Osprey dung had become an obvious problem by 2022. It eats the paint off cars, porches, everything. A windshield count identified 60 nests on the island, add a conservative third again for nests invisible from the road and those invisible staring straight at them.

    The Captain, again, proclaimed St. George Island the Osprey Capital of the World.

    Even so, only two of the four nests out front creek fledged Ospreys that year. Ethel brooded a few days in April, abandoned that effort. In June, as eggs in Island Creek nests started hatching, Ethel and Mark-8 hunkered a second time for some serious incubation. Lasted a week. Ethel split when fish deliveries halted. She returned after geese spent a few hours stomping anything in the bottom of that nest to smithereens.

    Mark-6 continued to slide sticks down triangular Marker 6 and visited Nests 1 and 2 when the males were absent. Twice, Mrs. B and Mark-6 breezily landed side by side on Nest 2, like they’d just flown in from grabbing a quick drink. Mark-6 loitered briefly, Mrs. B was friendly, he flew off.

    Likely Ethel’s chasing Mark-6 off her nest was actually following him into the South Copse. Although I hadn’t realized, in 2022, Ethel had returned from wintering in Central America as a free agent.

    On July 12, the same day, Mr. B gave Mrs. B a fish to welcome her return, Mark-8 gave a fish to Ethel. There was a full moon, daylight hours waning, fishing had picked up, for whatever it’s worth.

    Mark 8 had begun eating his fish on a low pier very near Nest 1. Ethel’s best chance for a piece was to wait in the nest. Drop down to the pier, he flew with his fish. The gulls, his ever present sentinels, cleaned up the pier. Once, with Ethel watching and calling, Mark-8 left a chunk of fish on the pier. The gulls were on it before his talons left the planking.

    Both remained committed to that nest. Up to this point they acted as allies battling any intruders eyeing Nest 1.

    The Osprey population increased every year, real estate naturally grew scarcer, and this trend continued into 2023. That season will have barely begun when an intruder threw Big Mama off her nest, ripped her chest open, and left her floating in the creek.

    Previous Episode: 2022-4:  Best to Lay by Early May

    Upcoming Episode: 2023-1: Big Mama Attacked

  • 2022-4: Best to Lay by Early May

    2022-4: Best to Lay by Early May

    Note: In the Chesapeake, best to lay eggs by early May. It’s 37-ish days to hatch, another 55 to fledge. Then the kids have to learn enough about fishing and flying to survive migration.
    Osprey typically lay clutches of three, sometimes four eggs, frequently wait for the third to begin 24-7 incubation, which is performed primarily by the female. Males fish, deliver food to the nest, and to varying degrees help with incubation. Some males are assertively broody. Some are Indeed-by-God not.

     Mrs. Bennet had laid her third egg five days before George and Martha arrived. Ten days after their arrival she stopped incubating.

    Two weeks later an attempted resumption of affections between the Bennets faltered. For the next two months, Mrs. B absented herself for days at a time and then other females paraded through Nest 2. Mr. B was slow to escort them off but he ultimately did.

    Mrs. B returned July 12. Mr. B brought her the last fish I saw him deliver that season. She shooed any remaining females away and they shared the nest, platonically as far as I noted, presumably fished for themselves.

    Upstream was a different scene By May 9, Mrs. Perfect was feeding a chick. By the 21st she had four chicks, the elders bullied the youngers. Mrs. Perfect configured the nest to separate the two youngers where they were no longer attacked but no longer competed for food. By the end of the month the pen was dismantled and the Perfects ultimately and efficiently fledged two chicks.

    Mrs Perfect and the two Perfect chicks await a fish delivery from Mr Perfect

    The Bigs hatched three chicks in the familiar pattern, the first a bully, the third quickly perished, the number two a survivor. The chicks were well fed, bullying diminished, and both fledged.

    The combined Big and Perfect chicks began fledging the second week in July with all four flying in early August. They landed in one another’s nests, wherever food arrived. The second Big to fledge flew straight into Mrs. Bennet on Nest 2, and got promptly booted home. But the adults in the nests upstream, after some initial consternation, fed whoever showed up.

    Ethel and Mark-8 handled the breeding season differently. Ethel had been liberated.

    Photo by author, taken with iPhone clamped to telescope. Version at top was “sharpened” by Copilot AI.

    Previous Episode 2022-3: Territorial Negotiations

    Upcoming 2022-5:  Ethel Was Liberated

  • 2022-3: Territorial Negotiations

    2022-3: Territorial Negotiations

    Mr Bennet preferred the electric pole on the road to dine and to prepare a fish for nest delivery. He can see activity in Nests 1 and 2 from the pole, and probably action in nests across the creek to the south.

    The Bennets controlled Nest 2; at least two loblollies in the middle of Parcel 157 Copse; all four man-made poles surrounding the oyster house; and the pilings on the lower side of the pier, among which Mrs. Bennet varied her dining spot of choice, perhaps influenced by altering configurations of vessels at the dock.

    Upon George’s arrival, the Bennets made clear, their vast territory also extended across the entirety of the pier, including the toe at the bottom of the “L” where George was constructing his split-level nest.

    The Bennet’s opposition did not approach the vigor of the Bigs, whose tenor reflected outrage of ancestral proportion against unpardonable nouveau. For all I know George’s installation at the end of the pier amounted to Osprey voodoo. Watermen avoided it.

    Most likely George’s effrontery, squeezing between established territories, shoved property rights straight up those males’ beaks. Even Mr. Perfect, whose boundary lines were not impacted, joined the attacks.

    Mrs. B and Big Mama stuck tight on their nests but rocketed into the air if Martha flew overhead, which usually Martha did not. At the first sign of aggression, Martha split, flew across the creek. When the locals came at George she’d absent herself, quick to leave the Purple Martin hotel to any invader.

    Martha liked George to deliver her fish to pilings across the creek. And mating worked better on the pilings than George’s hot-mess nests of ’22. Martha did hang in the neighborhood, perched around the expanding split-level. But the only risk I ever saw her take was getting caught investigating other nests. It seemed as if Martha coveted a nest and when the owners were absent she’d investigate their nests. This would be before egg laying time.

    But George did not abandon his split-level. Certainly not after holding his claim against the elder males. When matters calmed, Martha stood on the Purple Martin hotel, walked among George’s circular collection on the pier, and particularly liked perching on crossbars between a few pilings around the pier’s foot.

    George preening, Martha taking her time eating the fish he’d delivered to her on the crossbar at the end of their pier.

    Neither George or Martha ventured farther up the pier than the foot. They’d additionally been granted five loblollies in my side yard, which, as the Osprey flies, does not invade airspace above the leg of the pier, straight off the toe to the trees. Even so, Mrs. B never dined again on the oyster house pier. It was touch and go whether she’d stick with her nest. Then whether she would return.

    Photos by author with iPhone clamped to middling telescope; versions above of these two at the bottom are AI “sharpened” by Copilot. The others in the post are iPhone clamped to telescope.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Previous Episode: 2022.2 Building Code Spat
    Upcoming Episode: 2022.4. Best to Lay by Early May

     

  • 2022.2  Building Code Spat over Split-Level

    2022.2  Building Code Spat over Split-Level

    In 2022 the fledge classes of 2019 and 2020 roared into town, as obstreperous as ever the old Gang of Six. Youngsters canvased Island Creek through the summer, dipping into nests to attempt a claim, some ready to fight then and there.

    Mark 8 balancing and Ethel not cooperating.

    Mark-8 and Ethel remained adamant about their possession of Nest 1, although neither were into nestorations. They persevered as non-traditionalists. Mark 8 wasn’t into fish delivery. And Ethel wasn’t into mating.

    When Mark-8 zoomed in for a mating attempt—an approach favored by most lower-creek males—he’d have to walk Ethel’s shoulders down to force her tail up. If he succeeded with that, he’d have to walk his way back up to position his tail beneath hers. If all of this was accomplished, Ethel would swish her tail like she was all in, but whenever I caught a glimpse, she was all out of alignment.

    Note: Ornithologists say Osprey do not trade fish for copulation, not in a tit for tat kind of way. The male necessity is to override his own survival instinct and give his fish away. So, while the giving is a huge thing, possibly even tied to his perception of masculinity, the female needs to calculate, Is it enough? He must feed her, her chicks, and himself. A miscalculation could trap her into a lifetime of begging calls and drudgery.

    A new couple arrived in mid-April. I named them George and Martha for no reason at all. George began building a split-level atop a Purple Martin hotel rusted hollow. It was mounted at the toe of the L-shaped pier that separated the old Osprey nests from the new.

    While George’s efforts sometimes appeared within the realm of possibility, they also smacked of the style of Mark-6, who in 2022 continued sliding sticks down Marker 6. George incorporated the sticks that fell off the Purple Martin hotel into the circle of rope, fabric, and various detritus comprising the garden level of his castle sprawled across the pier.

    Just like that, the Bennets got another atypical neighbor flanking them on the north. None of the neighborhood took it well.

    Previous episode: 2022.1 Time Speeds Up

    Upcoming episode 2022.3 Territorial Negotiations

    Photos by author, taken with iPhone clamped to telescope. Versions in post were “sharpened” by Copilot AI.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • 2022-1: Time Speeds Up for Island Creek Osprey

    2022-1: Time Speeds Up for Island Creek Osprey

    2022 took off early and held a fast pace. Some of the named 10 showed up a month ahead of their previous year’s arrival. The Perfects dropped into place March 7, perched side by side as if a single, ceramic unit had been lowered onto the rim of their nest. They hatched four chicks in 2022 and subdivided their nest to jettison the younger two from the feeding schedule, as required.

    Mr. and Mrs. Bennet arrived the day after the Perfects, Mrs. B mid-morning and Mr. B careening up the creek early evening, landing gently on Mrs. B and mating. She greeted him head down, tail high, and their breeding season began.

     Note:  Ospreys don’t carry full-sized reproductive baggage year round. Initial mating efforts—the failures and successes—expand the gear to production size and drop it into place. Experienced couples can pack these preliminaries into seven to 10 days of concentrated and consummated mating to deliver a fertilized egg. Newer pairings take more time. Weeks. Longer. Maybe not until next season. Timing is the essence.
    Big Mama (L) and Big Daddy

    Big Mama arrived the same day as the Bennets. I didn’t clock Big Daddy’s arrival, but he was taking a turn incubating eggs by April 1, so he’d arrived close on Big Mama’s tail.

    Ethel and the two Marks arrived mid-March and resumed skirmishes between the two nests south of the dock; they flew tandem and even as a synchronized trio above the creek, they buzzed nests close enough to cause small fracases.

    Ethel and Mark-8 reclaimed Nest 1 and resumed squabbling with Nest 2 using the same old tricks: Mark 8 buzzed the Bennets as they began mating. Mr. B stole stick after stick from Mark-8’s nest.

    Mrs. B, a tenacious and relentless defender of Nest 2, could yet be surprised by Ethel quickly touching down on Nest 1 behind Mrs. Bennet’s back, only to spring over to her own nest as Mrs. B realizes. It drove Mrs. Bennet nuts.

    Mrs. B once rocketed off Nest 2, talons raised, hit Ethel square on the back, tumbling her overboard off Nest 1’s perch.

    The four of them looked more prankish than hazardous. This was their third year back. They worked together to drive off intruders, which I considered to be those I had not named, but their definitions were narrower.

    Matters still looked to be leveling out to a neighborly season. Mrs. B properly settled in and started laying eggs on March 25, still an early bird well ahead of the standard Chesapeake Osprey calendar. She had plenty of time if something should go awry. Good thing.

    Previous Episode: 2021.6  Mark-8, What Else?

    Upcoming Episode: 2022.2  Building Code Spat over Split-Level

    Photo by author, taken with iPhone clamped to telescope. Version at top was “sharpened” by Copilot AI.
  • 2021-4: Pride and Prejudice

    2021-4: Pride and Prejudice

    Mr. Bennet is landing on Nest 2, probably aiming for Mrs. Bennet’s back.

    The accommodating and unaccommodating Osprey pair of Nest 2 will be named Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, after their chicks hatch. The chicks will look like big, healthy girls when they fledge. But when Natasha dropped in, Mrs. Bennet hadn’t yet laid an egg, though she was ready. She stuck close to the nest except to dine at a nearby piling, within sight of the nest. She ignored the cuckoo egg.

    Not Mr. B. When he next delivered a fish to the nest, he brooded Natalie’s egg while Mrs. B dined on her piling.

    He carried on like this until Mrs. B began laying eggs a few days later, in the bowl she and Mr. B had carefully prepared, up and apart from the lip where Natasha had laid. Mr. Bennet’s attention transferred quickly to the eggs of the future Misses Bennet.

    Incubation can be pretty dull, viewed at the lip of the nest. The first surmise of a living hatch is an adult with food in its beak leaning into the nest bowl. Counting begins when heads start bobbing, which depending upon nest construction, takes at least a week.

    Big Mama and Big Daddy

    Only one head ever popped above the lip of the Bigs’ nest in 2021. Anyone’s guess the parentage. The Bigs had begun the season on bad terms, Big Daddy a month late, not showing until well into April while Big Mama had battled daily intruders.

    Mrs. Perfect

    Some assistance came the upstream neighbors, their nest also attracting intruders. These neighbor to the north were the exception to my 2021 naming. The Captain and I had years before named this pair the Perfects, practically the day they arrived. We named them after family, whose lawn we’d long commented upon.

    In 2021, the experienced Perfects, the novice Bennets, and a beleaguered Ethel fledged two chicks apiece from their considerably different nests.

    Image at top of post is taken from this photo by author via iPhone attached to a middling telescope. Copilot “sharpened”the image used at the top.

    Previous Episode: 2021.3: Birds Labor Too 

    Upcoming Episode:  2021.5  Mr. Bennet Was My Favorite

  • 2020-2: Rampaging Adolescent Ospreys

    2020-2: Rampaging Adolescent Ospreys

    The new Osprey nest platforms are down stream from the peeler crabs beneath the red roof.  The green Intracoastal Waterway Marker 3 at the edge of the small beach in the background denotes the mouth of Island Creek. The red, triangular markers heading upstream are 4, 6, and 8.

    St. George Island legend pegs St. Patrick’s as the day Ospreys return. In 2020 that coincided with the pandemic. My office moved to the second-story of the island house overlooking the coveted new platforms. Hard to miss the commotion. I dug out a middling pair of binoculars, climbed to the storage loft above the oyster house, and dragged a stool onto the landing. I went a second morning merely to prove to myself I could. I didn’t bother with the binoculars.

    The Gang of Six blew past that landing exactly like the rampaging, hormone fueled, adolescent hawks they were. Fast and huge. They turned sideways—in flight!—to accommodate the sloping barn roof. They cut corners so tightly the building might as well not have been there at all. I grasped the railing, off balanced. Their wings were huge! Huge! Feathers filled the view. An unbelievable number of feathers, layers and layers. Millions of feathers. The spread wings were four times my breadth. I heard, “whoosh” and felt a rush. It happened again, so fast, another chasing the first, Star Wars on the wing. “Whoosh.” And all those feathers.

    After that I balanced the Captain’s powerful oystering binoculars atop piles of boxes and thick books in my pandemic office and spent half an hour setting the focus on the new platforms.

    Map below so totally not to scale!

    An Osprey nest proved perfect for lazy birdwatching. Everything interesting that birds do, Ospreys do at their nests—courtship, nest building, mating, dining on live prey that is always fish, so not as gross as an eagle’s nest, eagles eat anything and the kids sleep beside the leftovers.

    Then Ospreys produce a 60-day family drama from feeding to fledging followed by prolonged survival training—flying and fishing—for their first migration. Nearly all of this, right there on the nest, binoculars in place and focused.