With his family flown and Rosie down South, Richie spends little time on the nest in the Winter. He spends his days on various perches, watching and fishing. He spends some nights on the Richmond Yacht Club nest and other nights in parts unknown.   But he does keep an eye on his nest. When an intruder comes to the nest, Richie is there to chase it away.

                                                                  ​2018 
In January, when the days begin to grow longer, Richie comes to the nest more often. In 2018, he came nearly every day. 

The nest is rather dilapidated at that point. Richie begins bringing sticks, as he awaits Rosie's return. 

Then on March 2 in the early evening, Rosie arrived, heralded by a rainbow.

Richie, who may have been having a little tryst with the female (named Eileen by chatters) at the Richmond Yacht Club nest and who had dealt with a female intruder (Theda) at the Whirley nest, lost no time in reconnecting with his Rosie. He immediately began to help fix up the nest (nestorate), bringing sticks, eelgrass...and various other items. 

And Rosie got right to work, using the materials he brought to make a comfortable nest bowl and a nest railing. 

They were preparing for raising a brood of chicks. But restoring the nest was not enough. Other activity was needed. 

​In 2019, Richie didn't visit as often in January, possible due to more rain or because there were no serious challengers. In February, he has been coming regularly, usually in the morning. We do not have many good photos since the close-up nest cam was down for a while. 

On February 23, at 2:22 pm, Rosie arrived without fanfare and a week earlier than last year, catching chatters by surprise. Luckily, the camera was now reinstalled, with a new self- washing mechanism. 

Richie lost no time bringing her fish and a gift. 

At first, there was  less action. Richie was not been seen much on the nest. Perhaps he was spending time at the Richmond Yacht Club still. Rosie sat all day  Feb. 25, in the driving rain. She finally flew off later in the day. 

When the weather became warmer and sunnier, the couple upped their game. Richie finally began bringing fish to Rosie and both brought sticks and grass to make the nest bowl. And they began to copulate.

Some things remained the same: together on the nest watching the Bay, the big car ships and the famous pivot, Richie bringing fish, Rosie demanding and grabbing her fish, nestorating..

But every year has its differences and surprises: there is a new ferry, the chatters have upped their game, with some stunning caps, especially of flight, and with gifs and videos. And Richie has changed his color preference in gifts. Teal is the new deal. 

The couple was also a bit slow to get started with copulation. But when the weather improved, they got to it. This year, the chatters are not only logging fish brought to the nest but also the CK's (cloacal kisses aka copulation).

All of the following  photos are caps from the Osprey cam, operated by the GGAS and are the property of the GGAS. 

The osprey nest atop the historic Whirley Crane in Pt. Richmond is prime real estate. As they say in the world of realty: location, location, location. For this nest is built on a crane that is unused and part of the Historic Red Oak Victory site. Thus it is protected. It is fenced in so that vandalism is less likely. It is right at the water but not on it, so it is protected from ships, waves and other water activity. And it has a view that is unparalleled. There are other beautiful osprey nests, with forest views, but this one is unique. When the ospreys are nowhere to be seen, the viewer can gaze at the Bay, at Brooks Island, at the city in the distance. The sunrises are spectacular. The sunsets are not bad either. 

Unlike other nests, the view from this nest is ever-changing. There are foggy days, when ghost ships pass, there are rainy days when one views through a glass darkly, and there are sunny days when the crane sparkles. The regular group of chatters likes to wax creative, exclaiming over the sunrise angel and the harbor fairy sparkles. 

There is always activity around the nest. Situated at the working port, there are workers' cars coming and going, the volunteers and visitors to the historic ship Red Oak Victory, and the spanking new cars driving off the car ships that are moored nearby. Bayside, one can see birds, the occasional seal, the changing tides, and boats of all kinds. There is never a dull moment. Even in the dark of night, a raccoon may be spotted by a sharp-eyed viewer. 

But let us not forget that this is a bird nest. In the absence of ospreys, other birds visit. In early 2018, the gulls were regular visitors. They seemed to use the nest as a resting point and a lookout. So far, they have been mostly absent this year, but perhaps they will return in early 2019. The ravens and crows, on the other hand, use it this year and last, as a buffet. They dig deep into the nest to pry out leftovers from the osprey meals. Dried pieces of fish are a delicacy. 
But where are the osprey? Cindy Margulis, director of GGAS, has expressed it clearly: the nest for the ospreys is a nursery not a home. The osprey home is the sky, they roost at night wherever they might be, in Richmond or in Mexico or South America. The nest is where they mate, lay eggs and incubate. It is where they raise their chicks until those chicks fledge. Once the young have fully fledged and can feed themselves, there is no more use for the nest. The fledglings migrate, Rosie migrates too, and Richie finds sheltered places to roost at night and convenient perches for fishing during the day. He makes an occasional visit to the nest to defend it from other ospreys and claim it as his own. As the days lengthen after Winter Solstice, he begins to visit the nest more often, preparing for the day his mate Rosie returns. But that is the subject for another post. Meanwhile, we can enjoy our views from the nest, watching sunrises and sunsets; enjoying gulls, crows, ravens and even an occasional finch; and, like Richie, anticipating the return of Rosie and the beginning of a new osprey season. 

The Whirley Crane is so important and has such a character of its own, that it has its own song: The melody is from The Old Sod Shanty. 

The Nest's Lament

I'm looking rather messy now, while sitting on my crane.
The osprey have all flown off again.
The crows they come to clean me and the gulls, they come to rest,
But I am still a lonely osprey nest.

Oh, my branches are all falling, and the eel grass is all wet.
I have not seen an osprey fly in yet. 
But I am still on the crane through the winter rain,
And I know I'll soon see the osprey again.

For I am an osprey nest, I am an osprey nest,
As long as I am on the crane,
They'll love me the best,
And I'll forever be their osprey nest. 

​-Midi 

The nest is getting a present from the GGAS. A new device attached to the nest cam will now clean the lens so that the chicks' misfires are cleared off. Of course, that means no more creative graffiti by Rivet (ZR) and others. They'll have to find other ways of expressing themselves. 

​

 ​The Whirley Crane nest camera is well-situated to capture not only the comings and going of the ospreys and other shorebirds, but also the marine traffic in the ship channel. This has captivated cam watchers, especially when the ospreys are gone and the nest is empty and quiet. 
The behemoth ships that transport cars are a favorite. They are a pretty  light blue, large and ride high in the water. Their names are fun too: Iris Leader, Poseidon Leader, Swift Ace. They come down the channel accompanied by two tugs, tiny but powerful boats. At the entrance to the channel, they often perform the popular pivot, a maneuver requiring skill and dexterity on the part of the tugboats, to allow the ship to enter backwards so that it may depart forwards. Presumably, ships don’t like to operate in reverse. The cam watchers can later see the shipworkers driving in for their shift, and later these same workers driving the cars off the boat and into the parking lot. The lot is a great place to see what Subarus will be available in the coming year. If you visit the nest, you will drive by the trucks and trains that take these cars elsewhere. 

​Then there are the other large bulk carriers. These are less picturesque and go farther up the channel, where they cannot be seen unloading. But one ship, the Hon. Henry Jackman, is a favorite of one cam regular. Maybe it’s the name. Or the ship’s great length.  These ships also usually pivot. 

​Midi’s favorites are the tugboats. They are the workhorses, without whom the ships could not operate in the channel. One sees a pilot boat go out, then two tugs, and one knows a ship will soon be on its way. Sure enough, a ship soon appears, accompanied by two tugs, one on each side. These tugs are so small, especially when alongside the car ships, but they are mighty. And nimble. During the pivot, one tug must switch sides and just spins on its axis to make its turns.  The crew are alert, able and constantly on the go.  Midi once watched a crew member throw a rope expertly to the Red Oak Victory, then coil it. All part of the day’s job. When their job is done, the tugs return merrily to their berth. Do the ships every thank them? Are they ever fêted? Midi would like to know. Her favorites are the Foss tugs that berth nearby, and the tug dubbed “the birthday cake” by cam watchers.  Once a tug tooted as it went by the nest and another time, a tug did a pirouette right in front of the nest. So the crew have a sense of humor as well!

,​ 
Then there are the smaller boats. The fishing boats  go out early and return late in the day. Some are fancy and new and others are weather beaten. Occasionally one sees a tour boat, the Osprey being the camwatchers’ favorite. And then the sailboats, of all sizes. Once a large trimaran passed by, then Midi read later about the owner of the trimaran who got into trouble in San Francisco.

And finally, the very little private boats. The occasional kayaker. The expert sail surfer who seems to love rough, windy days. A funky tiny fishing boat. Some cam watchers like to check the marine traffic site. One noted a rowboat one day. Each morning this rowboat would set off and do a tour of Brooks Island then return. What was this rowboat? Why was it going around the island? An article appeared in the San Francisco Chronicle and the mystery was solved. A woman named Lia and her rowboat  have made the Bay their home. She is practicing for a record-setting row from Japan to San Francisco (one hopes to Richmond instead!). But first, she set off to make a record-setting circuit of the Farallones. Now alerted to her blog, some of the cam watchers followed Lia on her trip and cheered her as she entered Brickyard Cove after having accomplished her goal. Welcome, Lia, to Richmond Bay. And we invite you to become a member of the WWOC (World’s Worst Osprey Cam), a quirky, intelligent, fun, artsy group who meet on the cam’s chat site. Your membership card awaits you. 

After egg laying, hatching and growing, it is time for the ospreys to fledge. Learning to fly is a big part of the birds' life. For flying means independence. They can now fish for themselves, they can find new places to roost and meet other ospreys, and they can migrate. First the fledglings practice hovering above the nest, then they take short practice flights. They are not considered fledged until they fly from one point to another, away from the nest. They quickly learn to fly farther, taking practice loops out over the Bay. But then they return to the nest as they have not yet learned to catch their own food. Each day, they fly farther afield, strengthening their wing muscles and learning. They may spend all day away from the nest but usually return to spend the night and to beg for fish from the parents. Then one day, they don't return. And when the humans who watch them haven't seen them for a number of days, either on the nest or perched elsewhere in the area, it is assumed that they have migrated.
​
2017
In 2017, there were two osprey chicks. Whirley, the oldest and the restless one, fledged in the early morning of July 3, after the fireworks at the pavilion. She was probably not fully ready and she was found in the water by a barge crew several days later. She was taken to Wildcare in San Rafael but they could not save her. She could have injured herself while diving for fish, as she was not yet practiced. Or there could be other reasons for her injury. At any rate, her demise was not uncommon. Rivet was less restless. She liked to stay around the nest and be fed. She fledged July 5, 2017 but often returned to the nest, even when her parents were not about. She migrated around August 20 and is presumably still down South. She should return to the Bay Area either this Spring or next, when she is ready to seek a mate. She wears a blue band ZR.

2018
The 2018 chicks had a different experience. They interacted quite a bit on the nest and often argued, as siblings will do. They loudly yelled for fish and fought each other for possession.  The males fledged on the same day. Brisa, the female and the youngest, fledged later.  Gradually, they learned to fish for themselves and soon left the nest.  

Brisa  hung around after the two males left. Then she flew to the nearby Richmond Yacht Club nest and began to beg there. Finally, she seemed to be catching her own fish and one day, she disappeared, presumably to migrate South.

Rosie and Richie hung together for a while, roosting at night on the ship cable. They seemed to enjoy each other's company. Then Rosie left, without fanfare. Richie continued to sleep on the cable for a few nights then moved to his fishing spot on the sandspit and we don't know where he spends the nights. He is alone, but he knows his Rosie will return in the Spring. Meanwhile, he will visit the nest occasionally, just to assert his ownership. 

Watching the osprey nest and seeing them bring in fish to eat or to feed their chicks led naturally to interest in the fish themselves. When the GGAS set up a citizen science project for logging the type of fish brought in by the ospreys, the chatters came on board with enthusiasm. Soon, many had bought the book that identified the fish and many became experts in observation and in identifying the various fish. The science and research are serious and needed to see what fish populations are healthy in the SF Bay, but there is fun too, as chatters nitpick over whether that fish has stripes or not. And then there are the Plain Fin Midshipmen, that engender much discussion and equal amounts of love and disgust. Below are the fish identified and also some fun with them. 

PLAIN FIN MIDSHIPMAN
By far the most interesting and controversial fish of the year. Used by bait by fishermen. There is a great video on Youtube explaining the intriguing characteristics of the midshipman. Ugly as it is, it glows and hums. The male takes care of the babies. There were 30 of these strange fish brought in this year. 


Other fish brought in include starry flounder (7) and surf perch (4), as well as unidentified fish. 
​

The Plain Fin Midshipman is so unique, both in name and manner, that it engendered a story of its own. The story is not really a legend, but a product of Midi's strange mind. Who knows, perhaps it will become a legend in time. 

​                                                          Plain Finn Midshipman

                                                                        for J.
 
Once there was a young boy whose family emigrated from Finland to the Great Plains of  America. The summers were hot, the winters long, and the work hard. When the boy came of age, he decided to leave his family to seek adventure on the high seas. He took the train to the West Coast, where he found a work on a ship. He was but a lowly midshipman but he was happy to be at sea. He had worked hard all his life and did not shirk his duties. When his shift was over, he retired to his bunk to read. He did not engage in the other men’s drink and song. Since he was so young, the other men left him alone and did not make him join them. They soon took to calling him Plain Finn.
Plain Finn, the Midshipman, worked on this ship across the ocean and back. He had always liked to sing but was too shy to sing in front of other people. He soon discovered that when on night duty, he could sing in the wind and no one would hear him. He began making up songs and sang night after night. He asked for the night shift, which the other sailors gladly granted him. He sang plaintive songs to the wind, angry songs to the waves, joyful melodies to the porpoises that frolicked around the ship, and silly songs to the fish. His favorites were the flying fish, that glowed in the night as they jumped into the air. 
Since he had grown up on the prairie and had no siblings, Plain Finn was used to being alone and used to large open expanses. Nevertheless, after a few journeys on the ship, he began to feel lonely. He wished for human company and especially began to think that he might like to find a wife. But how could he do so when he was on a ship with a bunch of rowdy sailors? And he was not a handsome fellow. He knew he would be a good husband and father. But what woman would want him, plain as he was? As he brooded, the melodies he created became dark and moody.
One day, when his ship landed in a far off port, Plain Finn went ashore with the other men. He did not want to go to a bar with them, so he sat on a bench by the shore, looking out to sea. As he was gazing and thinking dour thoughts, a woman sat down by him. She was a young woman, dressed plainly but with a pretty face. 
“Why is a handsome man like you sitting alone?” she asked. 
Well, Finn had never been called handsome. That just wasn’t done where he grew up and the sailors called him Plain. 
“I have just come ashore,” he answered, pointing to his ship. 
“Would you like me to show you the town?” she asked.
Finn readily agreed and they spent the day walking around the shops, then hiking up the small hill behind the town. The woman told Finn about her life in the town. She had never gone farther than the next town and oh, how she would like to sail across the sea that she watched every day. If only she could be a bird-or a fish. Finn, in turn, told her about the prairies, the hard life there, the fun they had as well, and of his life on the sea. 
All too soon, it was time to part, Finn to his ship, the girl to her home. But they made plans to meet again the next day, while the ship was still in port. And so passed three glorious days. Finn had never known such happiness. Talking, sharing, just spending time in silence together. Always, there was the sea before them, beckoning. 
When the time came for him to part, Finn brought the girl a shell he had found on a far off beach. 
“Take this as a token of my love,” he said. For indeed, in three short days, he had fallen in love with this woman. “And of my pledge to return. As soon as I can, I will give up my life as a sailor and return to you.”
The woman, Leila was her name, hugged him and kissed him.. “But it will be so long and I will miss you,” she cried. 
“Just keep busy and it won’t seem so long,” he said. “And listen to the sea. Listen to your shell. For I shall sing to you every night as I stand watch. “
She promised. And he parted amid many tears.
Finn boarded the ship, his heart full. The other sailors noticed and laughed at the change in him. “Finn found himself a girl,” they said. “But hey, Finn, don’t worry, there will be more in the next port.”
Finn ignored them. Again, he requested night shift, which was gladly granted him. Every night, he sang to the wind and to the stars—and to his love. He just knew she was standing at her window looking out at the sea and listening. As soon as they reached the home port, he decided, he would sail back to her. There he could find a job and they could raise a family. He dreamed of the children they would have. He knew he would be a good, caring father. That was in his nature. 
One night, the captain came up on deck. He watched Finn without the other man noticing. It seemed to him that the midshipman glowed. Such happiness, he said to himself. He hoped the young sailor would reach home safely and go back to his love. 
But the captain was worried. He knew a storm was coming. A big one that they could not go around. He wished he could put the young man ashore before the storm hit, but they were in the middle of the ocean, with no land in sight. 
The storm hit the next morning. The sailors were all kept busy battening down the hatches and didn’t even have time to eat. By sunset, there was nothing more they could do. “One man will keep watch,” the captain said, “and the rest of you may stay below. But you must be ready at all times, in case we capsize or see land.”
The men readily agreed. They drew straws to see who would keep first watch. The  captain retired to his cabin to chart their course and keep his log. As soon as he did so, the men went wild. We have spent all day without food, drink or fun,” they said. “Now we will party.” And despite the rolling of the ship and the crashing of the waves against the empty bow,they pulled out the kegs. Soon they were singing bawdy songs and drinking as if tomorrow would never be. And well might it now. 
Poor Finn was miserable. He did not drink and all he could think about was his Leila back ashore, watching and probably worrying. She was a child of the sea and well knew
its dangers. Finally, Finn crept up on deck. He had to crouch low under the wind and he grabbed the rail to keep from slipping. A wave washed over the deck, but he held on tight. He went to the wheel and told the tired watchman to go down below. “I suggest you find a quiet corner,” he said. “Otherwise you will not get much sleep tonight.”
The other man thanked him and headed into the hatch. Finn took his lone watch. It was a position to which he was well accustomed. He even enjoyed the lashing wind and waves, wild as they were. He sang at the top of his voice. Songs to the wind and the waves, songs to the weather gods, and a sweet plaintive song to his beloved, telling her how much he loved her and not to worry.
All through that night, Finn watched. No one ever came to relieve him. The other men were drunkenly asleep. Even the captain, who trusted his men, had shut his eyes for a few minutes of much needed rest. He saw from his instruments that the storm would be over soon. But then the captain rose with a jolt. A huge wave had just washed over the ship. 
He ran into the room where the men were and cursed when he saw them lying around the floor, snoring noisily. Then he rushed onto deck. Just as he did, another large wave came up right over the bow of the ship. The captain saw Plain Finn standing there. He was holding the wheel tightly, singing loudly, calling to Aegir, the god of the seas, and it seemed that he glowed with a light all his own. But the wave crashed down and loosened his grip. And as the captain watched aghast, unable to move, Plain Finn was washed overboard. 
As soon as he could, the captain ran starboard, but all he saw was a head. He heard a faint voice call out “Tell Leila I love her. And I will still sing to her from the sea.”
The head vanished and all that was left was a sailor’s cap floating on the waves. The captain knew from vast experience that it was useless to try to rescue the man. So he took the helm and steered the ship away from the storm, which was now abating, after its last big wave gasp. 
The next morning, the sailors awakened with groggy minds and aching heads. Ashamed, they set to work. They were even more ashamed when the captain told them what had happened to the youngest sailor Plain Finn. That afternoon, they took a moment to pay their respects. 
That night, the man on watch saw a glow in the water. This was not unusual. There were all sorts of plankton and animals that glowed. But this glow seemed different. And it sang. Sang? Yes, the man heard a human voice singing a song of love and yearning. He did not tell the others as he was sure he must be imagining it. The next day, they reached shore, and all was forgotten in the joy at being home again. 
But on a far off shore a woman stood by the sea watching. Watching for her lover whom she knew would not return. For she also saw her shell glow and heard the songs when she held it to her ear. And Plain Finn? Well, the fishermen soon reported that they had found a new fish that lived in the shallows. Over the next year, they reported that the fish was rather ugly, but it glowed with an eerie light. The male fish helped raise the babies and he sang to them. And Leila knew then that this was her Finn. When she told her father, he told the others. These were people of the sea and they believed her. So they named the new fish the Plain Finn Midshipman in his honor. And every fisherman raised his cap to the Midshipman whenever they encountered the fish. So Plain Finn was not forgotten. 
 
Midi
8/1/2018

Pelicans on the Bay earlier before the ship left the dock.


All photos and videos taken by Midi with her iPad.