Occasionally, something occurs on the Bayou that truly saddens me. Recently, an osprey was seen acting rather strange. The bird appeared to be exhausted from flying but with each attempt to land in the old pine, a struggle would ensue and the bird would take flight again. My first thought that something was in the tree that was prohibiting the bird from landing. Maybe a large snake was there as rat snakes are known to even be in the tops of the tall pines. Since I had nothing better to do, I sat down and watched the osprey. Again and again, it made the attempt to alight in the tree to gain some much needed rest but each attempt was aborted. Fatigue is not a good thing when you are in flight.
Soon, the osprey flew low overhead and I was able to view the full bird. It became quite apparent what was ailing the poor bird. Evidently, the bird had tried to catch a fish but that fish was its undoing. Wrapped around the osprey's legs was a fishing line with cork still attached. The bird could not use its legs! My heart started breaking for the bird. What was it going to do?? Ospreys depend on those strong legs and talons for more than just perching in a tree. Without the use of its legs, an osprey cannot fish for food. I sat fretting over the bird and trying to figure how it could be helped.
It was not long before it became clear that my help was not needed. The bird did a belly-flop on the shore on the other side my brother's pier. It screamed for its mate who quickly came and between the two of them, they managed to pull the line from the legs of the exhausted bird! The tired bird took flight again and landed on her perch in the pine. Soon her devoted mate brought her a nice size fish...WITHOUT a hook and line. The love and care that the male osprey showed for his ladylove was amazing. The resiliency and determination of both birds is something that should be inspirational to all humans. I sure learn a lot from the critters around here and I am so thankful that, what could have been devastating, turned out to be truly incredible. I only wish the camera lens could have caught this feat but the distance was just too great.
Every now and again, I used to get a call from my elderly uncle who had moved from Mississippi to Missouri. He wanted to "check the fishing reports". Uncle Alfred used to live just one house over from the Little Bayou House and loved to go fishing. He and my Aunt Marie fished just about their entire lives and the love of the water lived on with him even though he moved away after she died. Before he passed away, he and I would chat on the phone about fishing and his dream of coming back to the Bayou "just one more time". While he knew the trip was not reasonable at his age of almost 100 but we "dreamed" and made plans, all the same. The fishing report was about whatever was in the Bay at the time. It did not matter if I told him about menhaden, redfish or otters. He loved every minute of the report. I loved every minute of sharing with him and I miss his calls terribly now.
The fishing report of the day sort of goes like this. I caught a nice sized fishing line complete with sinkers and hook! I was slow-dragging my bait along bottom thinking I may pick up a flounder but hooked into the old line. It was a good pull! At this point, Uncle Alfred would have made a joke and asked how long I thought the line had been snagged there before I caught it. We would banter back and forth for a bit before I moved on with the next bit of the report. Also, the clams are biting really good now! Mark caught a nice, heavy one up near the shoreline this morning. He was hoping to catch a redfish that was running the marsh but the clam bit first. We decided to let it go, however, since we only had the one. Again, Uncle Alfred would have had some quip about the clam and probably have related a tale of going clamming during his younger days. The rest of the fishing report would have been filled with tidbits of news about the number of schools of menhaden, recent catches of shrimp and how many crab pots we have at the end of the pier. Once the report was complete, he and I would, once again, make those plans for his fishing trip. That fishing trip was never made, at least, not physically. He told me that he fished from our pier in his dreams and that made him happy. Talking with him made me happy.
The truth behind the above fishing report was that I did, indeed, hook and bring in an old line that had been snagged on a log. Pulling it off was quite the job but I am glad it is no longer posing a danger to the sea life. Mark did catch a clam on his line but not on the hook. His sinker weights became wedged between the hinge of the clam shell allowing him to pull the large clam right up on the pier. These tales would have delighted Uncle Alfred and made those dreams even more exciting. Even though it has been several years since he passed, I still think of our phone calls and reports. I sure miss that man!
A few weeks back, my cousin asked if we could help her catch a goose that had fishing line tangled around its feet. The line was cutting into its legs and making it difficult to move around. She feeds the wild geese and noticed that one was hurt. I assured her that Son and I would be right over if she needed us. She was grateful and promised to call if the bird returned. I have not heard back from her so I was assuming the goose either freed itself or died. This past weekend, however, when I heard the geese fly over the Bayou toward her house, one was low enough for me to get a good view. Yep, the bird was still tangled. The poor thing was trailing about thirty feet of tangled line behind it when it flew. It made me sad to see the bird struggle along behind the other geese. Still, no call from my cousin. Obviously, the geese are stopping somewhere between here and there.
All day as I cleaned the greenhouse, I thought about that strung-up goose. I have no idea how in the world we would go about catching a wild goose but, given the circumstances, we must at least give it a try. This evening when I heard their calls as they returned from feasting at Michelle's house, I hurried out to see if I could catch another glimpse of the poor bird. If this was the same flock, the tangled bird was not with them.
While we all appreciate the stronger lines for our fishing reels, this stuff is no friend to wildlife. Whether the bird accidentally entangled in someone's line while they were fishing or if it became ensnared in discarded line makes no difference. Gone are the days when the line would rot in about a week. Gone are the days when fishermen were responsible folks who cared about wildlife. Unless the bird is helped, there is no way it can live much longer. My cousin had called the wildlife rescue folks, but her plea was met with the same response that I received about the injured heron. It seems that the local group is more concerned with donations than helping the critters. This poor bird will meet a sad fate, I am afraid. Hopefully, I will get a call from Michelle saying that the goose is there and hopefully our wild goose chase will result in a happy ending for the bird.
