Dead Fish Don't Swim Fast!

   Fishing is not only a pleasant pastime here on the Bayou, it is also a way to put a meal on the table.  Just today, I baked a nice redfish and made some garlic shrimp alfredo.  Paired with broccoli and crowder peas, things just don't get much better.  Both the fish and shrimp were fresh caught by Mark just yesterday making the meal, not only healthy, but also almost free!  It is times like this that I love living right where I do.

  Earlier, I had been cutting back the Boysenberry vines when I heard a loud screaming.  Three ospreys were busying themselves with catching mullet in the shallows of the Bayou.  One stayed put on a limb of a pine while the other two hunted.  This made it clear that the single one was the offspring that had just fledged.  The parent birds were trying to entice their youngster to try diving for a mullet but it was having no part of that exercise.  Instead, the young bird screamed for a free meal and, soon, mom evidently felt sorry for the lug of a kid and alit in the same tree with a large mullet.  She was not giving in too rapidly however as she made the kiddo work for its meal.  Just as the younger bird would attempt to grab the fish, she would fly to a nearby tree.  Kiddo followed and again tried to snatch the mullet.  Nope! she flew back to the original pine and waited.  After a moment, her offspring came begging.  This went on for several minutes before she actually "dropped" the mullet and the younger one had to fly down after it!  Easy catch!  Dead fish don't swim very fast!  The youngster had its prey and felt mighty proud of itself!  After a squeal of delight, it set to work devouring its breakfast.  In the meantime, Mom and Dad headed out to the Bay to catch their own meals leaving the kiddo on his own.

  The birds don't have the option that we do of stockpiling foodstuffs for when times are bleak.  Two of our freezers are filled to the brim with enough fish, shrimp and crabs to last through hard times.  Add that to the one freezer filled with vegetables and the thousand or so jars of fruit and veggies on the pantry shelves and we shall not go hungry.  The ospreys have to work daily for their meals so it is highly important that their offspring learn the tricks of the trade as soon as they fledge.  Then...they are on their own. It is a matter of survival...

Don't Leave Me!!

  Don't leave me!!!  Early this morning, quite a ruckus could be heard just outside the front door.  Panicking that a rat snake had found the baby wrens, I hurriedly opened the french doors and stared at the hanging basket that held the nest.  Nope. nary a snake could be found.  Then my thoughts went to the squirrels that are always climbing about the arbor.  Knowing that squirrels are not above eating baby birds, I searched again.  Nary a squirrel could be found.  A hawk, perhaps?  Nope, nary a hawk was in the vicinity.  Something was up, though, as the parent wrens were having a fit in the tomato plants.  So, I tippy-toed out to the garden and was surprised to see baby wrens struggling to learn to fly!  My babies have left the nest!  I settled in on the garden bench to watch.  One, Two, Three. Where are the others?   There were five in the nest,  Wait!  I see one snuggled down under the rose bush.  Number Four!! Where is Number Five??  Try as I might, Number Five could not be found.  Disheartened, I figured the noise I heard was Number Five being attacked by some predator.  

  Since I had not had my coffee yet...hey, I even forgot to slip on shoes...I headed back inside.  Number Five lumbered around in the brain as I made coffee.  Taking the mug back to the doorway, I stood looking out at the nest.  Poor Number Five.  It saddened me to think that, though I pulled the mama and nest through the tropical storm, I was not there to help when the littles left the nest.  Poor Number Five!  

 

  Suddenly, "Peep".  Huh?  "Peep"  I had to look.  Gently, I pulled the basket aside and peered into the nest,  Yep!  Number Five was nestled deep inside!  Whoa!  Little One!  Get yourself in gear, Buddy!  The others are going to leave you behind!  "PEEP!"  Then, there was fluttering by my head!  Mama Wren returned to urge Number Five from the nest.  "Come on, Lazy Bones!", she seemed to be saying!  Number Five stretched up to the edge of the nest and tumbled to the ground.  Mama Wren hurriedly met him and encouraged him to the tomato plants.  Once inside the branches, he felt braver and was hopping from limb to limb.  Go, Number Five!!  Catch up with your siblings!  Now, the nest is empty and my heart feels happier!  Hopefully, all five will continue with their lessons and not meet up with some dire fate.  It is out of my hands now!  

A Near Drowning

  Late this afternoon, Mark suggested we meander about the hillside.  It was the perfect afternoon for that leisurely stroll since the temperature was not too high and there was a lovely southwest wind making it even more comfortable.  We started, of course, at the pier.  There, I spied what first appeared to be a duck in distress.  Then...maybe it was a cormorant.  Or...perhaps a large gull??  This was bewildering, to say the least.  Since the bird was off in the distance a bit and it kept going under water, I was just not sure what it was but I could tell it was not doing well.  With the small skiff on shore, there was not much we could do to help.  We watched and after a few moments, the bird managed to take flight...almost.  It fell back into the water but immediately tried to fly again.  This time, it used all its strength and made it to my brother's pier and landed on a post.  The bird was not any of the aforementioned fowl but rather an osprey.  This confused me as the ospreys are usually expert fliers.

  After a moment, the bird took off to the back of the Bayou where there is a dead pine tree that is a favorite roosting spot of the ospreys.  I told Mark we had to go check on our friend.  Once we neared the pine, I could see the bird trying to preen its feathers.  It was soaked!!  Poor bird!   I eased nearer and nearer fully expecting the bird to show some distaste for my presence.  It did not.  So, I sat on the old oyster bench and started taking photos.  I was only a mere twenty feet from the old dead pine and not much further from the osprey.  The treetop had long fallen leaving a short stob of only about twenty feet so my view of the bird was quite good.  It was at this time I realized that this was a juvenile osprey perhaps of the most recent nesting.  Obviously, its flying skills are not perfected and a simple dive nearly killed it.  The bird had nearly drowned.

  It did not take long for the bird to relax enough to carry on with its task of getting the feathers in order.  The osprey shook, flexed and stretched.  With each gust of wind, it spread its wings wide and let the air fluff the feathers.  Using its long, curved beak, it laid feathers back in place.  It almost seemed after a while that the bird was literally putting on a show for me!  After about a half hour and a hundred or so photos, I decided to leave the bird in peace and escape the mosquitoes that were gnawing on my arms and face.  Hopefully, the osprey will be alright after its terrifying experience of near drowning.  Take care, Little Osprey.  I am rooting for you!  You will get better with this flying and diving.  See you around!

No Rest For The Weary

  The past few days have been particularly tiresome.  Our old refrigerator (the Big Ugly as I named it) decided that it was time to go on the blink Sunday night.  This was a most inopportune time as deliveries from our local Home Depot are only made on Fridays.  What was I to do?   Son tinkered with the gigantic white elephant of a frig and finally got it going enough to keep things cool.  Great!  Except for the fact that the fan was not working on its own, all was good.  Every hour or so, one of us had to go to the kitchen, reach down behind the frig and twirl the fan to get it started.  While I was appreciative of any bit of cooling the old frig could give and I did not mind getting out of bed to twirl a fan, it began to get tiresome after the first night.  No sleep makes for a confused brain and achy body.  Normally, I am an early riser.  Watching the sun rise above the pines gives me great joy and a time to meditate before the hustle and bustle of the day begins.  This morning, however, I really...REALLY...wanted to snooze just a bit more.  That bed felt all too comfortable!  Then the unimaginable occurred and I was forced to tumble out of bed regardless of my thoughts of otherwise.

  Caw!  Caw!  CAW! CAW!  Oh, good grief!  Right outside of the open window a crow decided to welcome the day by yelling its fool head off while in the black gum tree.   Ok, so one bird would probably be met by the bazillion blue jays of the neighborhood watch of the critter world and be chased far down the hill...hopefully.  Then the first calling bird was joined by another, then another and yet another until just about every crow in the county was sitting outside my window!  What was up with that???  Well, me, for one.  With all that racket, I just had to check it out.

  By the time I dressed and slipped on my shoes, several more crows were flapping their way to my front yard.  This was ridiculous!  Camera in hand, I slipped out the door to investigate the invasion.  All I could think was "Why are you not here in October for the clue hunt?"  (How perfect would that be??)  I edged my way closer to the crows who had now moved down the hillside to the tall oak tree.  Dozens of the large birds were still causing a ruckus and were now being joined by the blue jays.  The jays were attacking the crows, the crows were yelling and I was standing in drizzling rain pondering the whole situation.  Then, in spite of all that cacophony, I heard a weaker call.  An almost whispering "caw" came from a nearby pine tree.  My attention turned to that bird.  

  Yep!  There was the cause of all the uproar.  A fledgling crow was learning to fly!  Obviously, that old adage about taking a village to raise a child holds true in the crow world.  One baby leaves the nest and it is a countywide event!  That is fine.  I am all for baby birds taking flight.  I am all for adult birds guarding it during its trial run.  I am not all for it happening right outside my window at 5am when I am suffering from an extreme lack of sleep!!!  GO AWAY, SILLY CROWS!  AND TAKE THOSE LOUD-MOUTHED JAYS WITH YOU!!!  Grrr!

"Where is my food?"

  While out weeding the garden, I kept hearing a screeching that was all too familiar.  This was that of a fledgling bird calling for its parents to "Feed me!".   At this point, the youngster should be well on its own but it has grown so accustomed to being waited on hand and foot that it feels that it cannot possibly forage for itself.  Weening time had come and the parents were making fewer and fewer visits to their youngster. Instead, they were off searching for food for themselves.  This left the lazy teenager to do nothing but screech and go hungry.  After a long enough time, the goofy kid will get the idea and decide "Well, I guess nobody is coming.  Maybe I can catch something for myself."  It is either do or die.  The parents were practicing a bit of tough love here.

  The fledgling in question was none other than a young osprey.  It was perched far in the top of the old, dead pine and was watching as the parents were practicing the fine art of catching mullet in the shallows of the Bayou.  The young osprey expectantly awaited for lunch with each plummeting parent.  Nope.  It did not happen.  As I watched, the parents actually let a few small mullet drop back into the water just to nudge their offspring to take action.  That lazy thing did nothing but screech.

  This kept on all afternoon.  The young osprey only left its perch twice and only attempted a catch once even though the parents had dropped several injured fish for easy catching.  The bird went hungry while the older ospreys moved further and further away.  In a couple of days, they will no longer be around to feed this offspring.  If it has learned its lessons, the youngster will be ok.  If not, it will have a rough time finding food until it can perfect the technique. Happy hunting, Squirt. You are going to need all the luck you can get here real soon.

All's Well That Ends Well

  The little family of wrens that were in the greenhouse have all vacated the place..at least during the daytime hours.  Their nest in the hanging basket of Swedish Ivy stands empty.  In the early evening hours, Mama and Papa Wren gather their five little ones to spend the night in their cozy nest.  Soon, that too, will cease.  Mama Wren will choose a new spot in the greenhouse to have another brood.  In the meantime, however, the tiny tots are learning the ropes of being foragers.  Mama and Papa are teaching their brood the finer points of bug searching.  

  This morning at daybreak, I headed to the greenhouse to fetch some gardening supplies.  As soon as I opened the door, the entire place was aflutter with the fledglings.  The little ones were out of the nest and trying their new found ability to fly.  I am glad that they have the safety of the greenhouse to try their wings for the first time.  This gives them a predator free spot to learn to the new skill.  Once I realized that I had walked in on a bunch of tots exploring the plants, I immediately backed out sans my supplies.  Those would have to wait a bit.  It was not long before the first little one found its way outside.  I watched for a moment as Mama and Papa doted on the little squirt.  They made such a big ado about its ability to fly a good four feet!  Satisfied that the parents knew what they were doing, I went back to weeding the garden.  I could hear one after another of the little ones making the great escape from the greenhouse.  Mama and Papa were elated...until about five minutes after the last little one flew the coop.  Then, a terrible screeching came from the little family.  Oh, my!!!  I have never run so fast for a bird!

  Not even paying attention to where I was stepping, I raced to the aid of the little birds.  By the time I reached the back of the greenhouse, two cardinals, a mockingbird and two thrashers joined in the commotion. Then, with the odds against them, two fat squirrels raced up the oak tree and started barking.  Had one of them tried to snack on a baby bird?  Stranger things have happened.  Squirrels have raided birds' nests before but usually for eggs and not baby birds.  I found no other predators in the area, though.  Mama and Papa were exceedingly alarmed and no babies could be found.  My goodness!  Five minutes out of the confines of the greenhouse and something terrible already happened?  Then a small peep.  One little one came out from under some leaves.  Yay!  Then another and another and another until all five babies were found!  Whatever attacked the little ones did not succeed!  My little family was safe! 

  All day, the family searched for bugs, practiced their flying skills and explored the hillside.  Late this evening, I noticed the parents herding their crew back into the greenhouse which makes me happy as we are expecting a night of stormy weather to hit the Bayou.  The little ones will be snug back in their hanging basket home for another night.

Trying His Wings

  The lack of winter here on the Bayou was a tad ridiculous but I had no idea just how crazy it was until today.  There are going to be some mighty strange effects of a year of warmth.  Besides the obvious plant related things, such as early blooming and multiple crops, the critters are experiencing a bit of mayhem as well.  This chaotic situation became clear as a bell to me early this afternoon during my hike.  

  While down near the creek, a sudden rustling in the underbrush gave me a start.  Not being able to see just what was causing the ruckus made me wary but curious.  Unwilling to agitate whatever critter was astir, I sank to my knees as to be less intimidating.  I stared at the underbrush not seeing what was causing the commotion.  Something was not too happy with my presence.  I knew that my busy visitor was not threatening since two blue jays were nest-building about thirty feet due north of the underbrush.  Those "alarms" would be alerting everything within two miles of any predator in the area.  They were quiet.  

  After a bit, I finally saw a bit of movement in the thicket.  There, among the brambles, a fledgling Mourning Dove was trying its wings.  The young bird was as curious of me as I was of it.  We made eye contact several times without it attempting to escape.  Both parent doves were within ten feet of the little one.  While they were trying to coax it to be still, the youngster had different ideas.  It wanted to fly and be free!  After a few moments, I heard the stray cat meowing nearby and knowing that this predator would have loved to dine upon the young bird, I decided to move toward the cat and away from the bird.  The cat, being rather shy, scampered up towards the house leaving the little bird in relative safety.  

  Seeing the already fledged bird made me realize just how out of whack the weather has been.  The doves had to nest in mid February to already have a youngster able to take flight.  Goodness!  What is in store for us this summer??