Sunset seen from the Whirley Crane nest. January 16, 2022. cap by midi
Photos labelled as caps were taken from the osprey cam set up by the Golden Gate Audubon Society. You can access it at sfbayospreys.org. All such caps are the property of GGAS and cannot be used or altered without its permission. Photos labelled at photos were taken by the person listed and belong to them, with all rights thereof. They gave permission to use the photo.
Every year, the ospreys return to the Whirley Crane nest and to nests all over the Bay Area. This wasn’t always so, thus we watch with gratitude to those humans who, noticing a fellow being in distress, worked to save it. The ospreys represent the cycle of life, practicing the rituals that comprise a family and a life. The human observers delight in and learn much from these ospreys, who take life as it is, accepting the vagaries of weather, the little annoyances of life, and the larger: a dud egg or a chick’s death. While we delight in their daily lives and their ability to fly above it all.
So this post is dedicated to the ospreys Richmond and Rosie of the Whirley Crane, who bring so much joy, fun and awe to our lives. And to the fun, quirky and multi-talented WWOC.
So this post is dedicated to the ospreys Richmond and Rosie of the Whirley Crane, who bring so much joy, fun and awe to our lives. And to the fun, quirky and multi-talented WWOC.
 Osprey on the Whirley Crane. August 27, 2021. gif by J She would return, he knew, early or late, His faithful Rosie, always loyal mate. Come flying from the South straight to the nest, And he would greet his mate with speckled breast. And they would build a nest of sticks and grass. A nest designed for many years to last. And at evening, they would sit side by side, To watch the water’s slowly ebbing tide. Each day his mate would call out for a fish And he would fly out then to grant her wish, And they would mate, then after she would lay Three speckled eggs that would hatch one day. This ritual would repeat, because, they say, All over Earth, it is the osprey way. -MW Lessons from an Osprey: Learn to fly above it all. If you see a fish, catch it. Take life as it comes. If nobody is bringing you fish, go out and get your own. Sharing benefits both parties. |  Fish exchange. March 6 2021. cap by lurker The Osprey He clasps the trout in clenched talons, High in the sky above the Bay, Circling away from would-be poachers. Mate’s strident calls now turn to chirps He lands, strives his talons to unlock, So she can grab the fish for herself. -MW With apologies to Tennyson  Fish to the nest. February 24, 2021. cap by craigor |
Richie with a fish above the nest. February 24, 2021. photo by Dianne A.
I Can Fly!
Once there was a boy named Ike who was born with wings. As a baby and young child, he didn’t know he had wings. He only knew there was something attached to his back. He kept them folded and left them alone.
When the boy entered school, he met other children and made friends. They asked him about his wings and he shrugged. They were just there. His parents had never mentioned them. But now he was aware of them and began to wonder. So one night when he was alone in his room, he tried unfolding his wings. Ooh, they were big. He looked in the mirror. They were beautiful! But why where they there?
He felt the need to move the wings, so he did. He folded then unfolded them. He moved them up and down a bit. That felt really good. But he heard his mother’s footsteps approaching, so he folded his wings and jumped into bed.
From then on, the boy kept his wings folded when around other people, but at night he would unfold them and flap them. He felt happy when he did so. One night, as he flapped his wings, he said “I am me!” For indeed, he somehow felt more whole now. But at school, he wanted to fit in, so he kept his wings folded and the other children soon forgot about them.
Spring came. The mockingbird returned to the bush below the boy’s window. The boy had always loved listening to the bird’s song at night and tried imitating it. He could sing many of the bird’s songs. Now, however, he noticed something else. When it sang, the bird would often flap its wings and hop up and down.
The boy wondered if he could do that. He stood up on his bed to try flapping his wings. Then he gave a little jump. He fell. Flap then jump. He fell again. He watched the bird carefully and tried to jump and flap just when the bird did. He lifted into the air!
Every night after that, the boy took lessons from the mockingbird. Soon he could jump and flap to rise in the air above his bed. And every time he did so, he felt a little more proud, as if he had finally discovered his real self.
But one day, the mockingbird flew off. How did the bird do that? Could he learn too? The next day, the boy went into the garden and watched the bird carefully. When it flew, the boy tried to imitate it and yes, he rose into the air and flew a little ways. But he saw the gardener coming towards him, so he quickly folded his wings and pretended to be looking for bugs.
Now the boy had an uncontrollable urge to fly. But he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He wanted to fit in; he didn’t want to be a freak. He didn’t even want to be famous. He just wanted to be an ordinary boy with a family and friends.
But he also wanted to fly. So he found secret places in the woods, where there was a clearing and he would go there to fly. When vacation began, he went every day to the clearing and practised flying. The other children asked him to play with them, but he was now too busy with his wings.
One day, it was particularly windy. There was a kite flying contest on the field by the school, but the boy went instead to his secret place to fly. He had no need of a kite. While he was flying, a gust of wind picked him up and carried him with it, all the way to the field on the other side of town. There the townspeople were flying kites of all kinds and colors: box kites, dragon kites, rainbow kites…
“Look at that kite!” one person shouted, pointing up in the sky. “It’s a big bird kite!”
“Wow,” another exclaimed.
“That’s not a bird, that’s my friend,” a boy answered. Hey, Ike, how did you get up there? With your wings?”
“Come down right now!” an official called out. “This is a kite contest not a bird contest.”
Ike reluctantly angled his wings tightly and flew in a circle to land in the middle of the ring of people. They rushed out to him, some laughing, some congratulating him. A few turned away and shunned him. He didn’t care about any of this. He didn’t want to be famous. He looked at his father, who gave him a thumbs up. Then he looked at his best friend, who did the same. Good. He still had his family and friend. That was all that mattered. So, ignoring the official, he unfolded his wings and took off, shouting, “I can fly.”
And he circled high above the crowd, free from the ground, free from those who would laugh or shun, from those who would be jealous, free just to be himself.
-MW
Once there was a boy named Ike who was born with wings. As a baby and young child, he didn’t know he had wings. He only knew there was something attached to his back. He kept them folded and left them alone.
When the boy entered school, he met other children and made friends. They asked him about his wings and he shrugged. They were just there. His parents had never mentioned them. But now he was aware of them and began to wonder. So one night when he was alone in his room, he tried unfolding his wings. Ooh, they were big. He looked in the mirror. They were beautiful! But why where they there?
He felt the need to move the wings, so he did. He folded then unfolded them. He moved them up and down a bit. That felt really good. But he heard his mother’s footsteps approaching, so he folded his wings and jumped into bed.
From then on, the boy kept his wings folded when around other people, but at night he would unfold them and flap them. He felt happy when he did so. One night, as he flapped his wings, he said “I am me!” For indeed, he somehow felt more whole now. But at school, he wanted to fit in, so he kept his wings folded and the other children soon forgot about them.
Spring came. The mockingbird returned to the bush below the boy’s window. The boy had always loved listening to the bird’s song at night and tried imitating it. He could sing many of the bird’s songs. Now, however, he noticed something else. When it sang, the bird would often flap its wings and hop up and down.
The boy wondered if he could do that. He stood up on his bed to try flapping his wings. Then he gave a little jump. He fell. Flap then jump. He fell again. He watched the bird carefully and tried to jump and flap just when the bird did. He lifted into the air!
Every night after that, the boy took lessons from the mockingbird. Soon he could jump and flap to rise in the air above his bed. And every time he did so, he felt a little more proud, as if he had finally discovered his real self.
But one day, the mockingbird flew off. How did the bird do that? Could he learn too? The next day, the boy went into the garden and watched the bird carefully. When it flew, the boy tried to imitate it and yes, he rose into the air and flew a little ways. But he saw the gardener coming towards him, so he quickly folded his wings and pretended to be looking for bugs.
Now the boy had an uncontrollable urge to fly. But he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He wanted to fit in; he didn’t want to be a freak. He didn’t even want to be famous. He just wanted to be an ordinary boy with a family and friends.
But he also wanted to fly. So he found secret places in the woods, where there was a clearing and he would go there to fly. When vacation began, he went every day to the clearing and practised flying. The other children asked him to play with them, but he was now too busy with his wings.
One day, it was particularly windy. There was a kite flying contest on the field by the school, but the boy went instead to his secret place to fly. He had no need of a kite. While he was flying, a gust of wind picked him up and carried him with it, all the way to the field on the other side of town. There the townspeople were flying kites of all kinds and colors: box kites, dragon kites, rainbow kites…
“Look at that kite!” one person shouted, pointing up in the sky. “It’s a big bird kite!”
“Wow,” another exclaimed.
“That’s not a bird, that’s my friend,” a boy answered. Hey, Ike, how did you get up there? With your wings?”
“Come down right now!” an official called out. “This is a kite contest not a bird contest.”
Ike reluctantly angled his wings tightly and flew in a circle to land in the middle of the ring of people. They rushed out to him, some laughing, some congratulating him. A few turned away and shunned him. He didn’t care about any of this. He didn’t want to be famous. He looked at his father, who gave him a thumbs up. Then he looked at his best friend, who did the same. Good. He still had his family and friend. That was all that mattered. So, ignoring the official, he unfolded his wings and took off, shouting, “I can fly.”
And he circled high above the crowd, free from the ground, free from those who would laugh or shun, from those who would be jealous, free just to be himself.
-MW
Hover June 30, 2021. cap by Annie B
| .Island of Osprey Dreams I wander the streets and the gay crowded places, trying to forget you, but somehow it seems My thoughts ever stray to our last tweet embraces over the sea on the island of osprey dreams. High in the sky there's a bird on the wing, Please carry me with you. Far, far away, from the mad rushing crowd, Please carry me with you. Again, I would wander where memories enfold me, Over the sea on the island of osprey dreams. original song by The Seekers | Osprey are Born to Fly Osprey are born to fly, To soar in wild blue sky. They grow, they fledge, they mate, Lay eggs, raise young, migrate. And when they say good-bye, They do not cry, they do not wonder why. But you and I... We were born to laugh and cry. We worry and we fret, We doubt, hope and regret. And when we say good-bye, We sigh and cry and forever ask why. So when the osprey fly, If you must, then cry. If you must, wave good-bye, But then let them fly free, Away from you and me, Fly high in wild blue sky, Free just to be. Fly high in wild blue sky, Away from you and me, Free just to be, free just to be. |
The Osprey How Graceful
The osprey how graceful,
Magnificent and regal,
As he sits upon his nest
Looking out over the Bay.
His great talons outstretched,
His keen golden eyes searching,
He glides over the blue water,
To search for his fish prey.
And I too, would be
An osprey just as he,
I would fly over the Bay
To catch my own prey.
Alas, I have no wings to fly,
No talons, no eagle eye,
So I will just stay here,
On Earth with you dear.
The osprey how graceful,
Magnificent and regal,
As he sits upon his nest
Looking out over the Bay.
His great talons outstretched,
His keen golden eyes searching,
He glides over the blue water,
To search for his fish prey.
And I too, would be
An osprey just as he,
I would fly over the Bay
To catch my own prey.
Alas, I have no wings to fly,
No talons, no eagle eye,
So I will just stay here,
On Earth with you dear.