A Friend in Need

  Every now and again, I see something on the Bayou that worries me a bit.  Mostly it is something to do with the overall health of the Bayou itself or one of the critters that call the Bayou home.  Since these two are so entwined, it is hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.  Without a healthy place to live, a critter cannot lead a healthy life.  Other than the bit of algae floating about, I have not seen many problems...until this afternoon.  About one o'clock in the afternoon, the phone rang with a request for help.  My son, Michael, and I took off in a flash to help our elderly neighbors.  The lady had a flat tire on her car and her husband was not able to change it himself.  No problem!  We are always ready and eager to help where help is needed.  This wound up being more a ordeal than was first expected.  It seems that one of the lug nuts was broken making the tire change quite impossible. After much pondering and another phone call, my brother came to the rescue (and an air tank!). Many thanks to him for his help!  He blew up the tire and we were on our way to the nearest tire repair place.  They had the proper equipment to remove the tire and replace the broken lug nut.  All was well....until we returned to the Bayou. 

   Once here, I strolled out into the garden to check the tomatoes.  In the distance, I could hear what I knew was an osprey.   Somehow, the bird did not sound too healthy.  Its call was more of a screechy noise instead of the usual sound. It was almost as if the bird was gasping.  Hmmm?  This needed to be investigated!  I called Ms. Ez, the Bayou Dog, and away we went.  She comes along on my hikes to act as scout for any critters that I need to avoid.  There is no need to step on a moccasin.  The dog will alert me of any impending danger. (At least, I hope!)  Anyway, we made our way to the marsh edge where the bird was resting on a limb in a pine tree.  No effort was made to avoid our confrontation but, then again, ospreys usually are not afraid of me.  I stood beneath the tree looking up at the bird.  "Are you alright, Buddy?"  I asked the bird as if I was going to get a verbal answer.  The osprey just stared at me.  After a few minutes, it pivoted on the the branch as if to snub me.  Hmmm?  "What is wrong, my friend?" I queried once again.  Still, no answer.  I tried my best to spy anything that might be hurting the bird but nary a thing could be seen at this distance.  I sure wish I could have gotten closer.

  Later this evening, I went to check on my friend.  It was still sitting on the branch where I left it earlier.  Now, it was quiet.  When I spoke to it, the osprey never even turned to look at me.  Something is definitely ailing my sweet friend but I am helpless in aiding it.  Any number of things could be wrong.  Among other things, the osprey could have come in contact with some discarded fishing equipment such as a barbed hook.  It could have eaten a fish that itself had ingested some poison. Or the most troubling, some idiotic human might have shot the poor bird. This is a federal offense!  If my poor friend meets with an untimely death and I can identify that this, indeed, is the problem, I shall report it immediately.  I do hope and pray this is not the case.  I love my ospreys and it saddens me that some folks have no qualms about harming them.  Please, Buddy, feel better in the morning.  I will check on you then!