Recently, I completed an essay on the multi-media works by Gail Hillow Watkins on exhibition now at the Maryland Hall for Creative Arts in Annapolis. This is the second article I’ve written on Watkins’s work.
https://www.marylandhall.org/news/2017/04/05/reflections-stratanew-work-gail-watkins
October is upon us with rustling leaves and vees of geese, calling as they pass overhead.
Our dear ospreys too have taken flight. Oscar and Opal left in mid-September, accompanied by their two well-fledged offspring.
But not before one more summer misadventure!
As you may recall, our friends had a tough time building their nest last spring. What had, in years past, taken two or three days, took Oscar and Opal two weeks this year, on the new, precarious LED light post. Their persistence, — not giving up when light-post one, then light-post two failed to hold their nest, paid off in the third attempt!
It was a far less elegant nest than in years past, as you can see, but a nest none-the-less. And it held fast as Pearl laid her eggs and cared for her two hatchlings. Pablo, ever the devoted dad, shared the parenting duties; guarding the family from the crows and seagulls, bringing live fish for the chicks, shoring up the nest with more vines and branches throughout the summer.
As the summer passed, I watched the two little ones fledge and take off across the Severn River on their first tentative flights – with Mom or Dad circling just above or just behind.
You may recall the three young osprey that had taken over the far soccer field. They arrived about the same time as Pablo and Pearl, but the three seemed young and carefree. None of that nesting business for them. I would see them fishing or perched atop light poles carefree, watching the the morning unfold. They avoided Pablo & Pearl’s football field territory, but seemed to share the river fishing grounds without any conflicts.
This languid, 16th summer was not without its own drama, however. As I walked my usual route along the Naval Academy seawall one early, August morning, I saw in the distance the three adolescent osprey flying frantically around and across the football field, where they did not belong.
My first thought, “Oh, those young ones are challenging Pearl and Pablo’s territory, causing a bit of a dust-up.”
But, as I approached the far side of the field and looked up and across at the nest, I saw that both Pearl and Pablo were at their nest, Pearl on the pole just to the south of the nest and Pablo at the nest. (The female osprey is larger than the male, and that’s how I distinguish between them.) The younger osprey still flew hither-and-yon, sometimes calling out, but mainly just flying about, circling the nest area.
As I approached, the noise grew louder. I could hear the distinctive pinging call of the osprey… but there was another, more frantic sound pitched high, above the other birds’ calls.
Then I saw her! Hanging upside down from the nest, wings flailing, screaming for help, was one of the fledglings! I stopped and watched in terror as she beat her wings helplessly, twisting her body, screaming in terror. I could see her head and beak, her one leg and talons extended into mid-air, and the other leg… I could only assume it was caught tightly in the vines and twigs of the nest. She must have tried to fly from the nest, and inexperienced as she was, her talons caught on something, and she spun down and hung helplessly in the air.
Dangling fledgling.
Obviously, Pablo and Pearl were trying desperately to convey some advice, offer some support for their young one as she fought for her life.
And, the three, young, neighbor osprey joined in the drama, offering whatever support they could. (Or, a less generous interpretation: waiting to see what would happen next.)
After watching the swinging, flailing bird struggle helplessly to free herself, and after listening to the heart-wrenching calls of the parents, I had to leave.
As I walked on I thought that when I returned to this spot tomorrow I would see a swinging carcass or the bird’s remains on the pavement beneath the light post.
Next morning, I approached the football field reluctantly, not wanting to learn the conclusion to the sad drama I’d witnessed the day before. From a distance all seemed quiet. I didn’t see the three teenagers, nor did I see the osprey couple or the surviving fledgling. Had they all fled the area after the tragedy? Would they abandon the nest after all?
I steeled myself as I rounded the end of the football field and the nest came into view. I tipped my head back and looked up… NO CARCASS hanging from the nest! I walked closer, expecting to see the remains somewhere below. Nothing! There was no dead body!
How could that be? Had some turkey buzzard carried off the remains? The seagulls might have feasted on the poor, dead bird, but there would be feathers, bones, something left behind.
I walked on, puzzled.
On the second day after the terrible dangling, I saw two osprey fishing over the river as I approached the football field. And, on the nest, Pablo seemed to be fussing with… the surviving fledgling? But, I thought I saw two heads peek over the nest’s edge. Could it be?
I was not going to let my Pollyanna proclivities rule the day! I walked on, glad at least to know that Pearl and Pablo had not deserted their nest, though they must be plagued by sad memories of their chick’s demise.
Over the next days and weeks I watched carefully. I saw Pablo and Pearl continuing their task of preparing for summer’s end and their departure. Training the fledglings for independence is a serious matter for all parents, and Pearl and Pablo have been accomplishing this task every summer for 16 years. And this summer was no exception.
Two hungry fledglings were learning to fish under the watchful eyes of their parents. Two noisy chicks demanded food from their returning parents. Yes, two; somehow, during that terrible morning, Pearl and Pablo succeeded in rescuing their young one. While I would have thought it could not be saved – freed from its vines, it would have plummeted head-first to the ground before it could take wing! Or, somehow righted into the nest, its leg and talon still caught, the young bird would not be able to free itself to fly again.
But, I was wrong! She was freed; she flew; she survived right along with her sister osprey. So that by the time I said good-by to the family in mid-September, four beautiful, strong birds set out from the Academy’s field, enroute to whatever warm, lush winter home they may know.
The nest is empty now, but each day as I walk by I still think of that dramatic morning and its happy ending.
And, speaking of happy endings…
Yes, a cheer escapes my lips and a smile follows, as I announce that once again Opal and Oscar Osprey have succeeded in securing a rather higgledy-piggledy nest to the hazardous heights of the U.S. Naval Academy’s outer-most light post.
As you may recall, our intrepid osprey couple returned in early March to a blustery spring and defoliated nesting area along the Academy’s football field. (Far right in this photo.)
In past years, the rebuilding or construction of their nest took about a week, based on my observations over the last 15 years. This spring, and a very chilly, wet one it’s been, Oscar and Opal did not progress well in their efforts to build a new nest on the new and very precarious light pole. They began building on one pole, then started again on a neighboring pole. Branches and twigs, large and small, littered the road beneath both poles, and still after two weeks, no nest was discernible on either pole. (See my March 16, 2016 posting.)
I left town for sunnier climes, fearing that I would return to find the Academy grounds bereft of any osprey. (The younger generation, Pearl and Pablo Osprey made no attempt this spring to rebuild after last summer’s rout by the Academy’s electricians.) However, when I resumed my morning walks after being away, I saw, to my delight, that a nest had been secured to one of the poles! Opal seemed to be brooding, and Oscar swooped proudly over his domain. 
In fact, they’re so into this nest-building that they seem to be trying to attach a lower-story beneath their new nest, on a slender metal bar of perhaps 5′ in length! (You may recall that Oscar is a two-story builder, having built a new nest atop a nest destroyed in the 2003 Hurricane Isabel. Since then, they’ve built and rebuilt two-story nests.)
Our courageous couple is keeping watch over their nest, and my heart sores with them! Whatever the coming weeks and months hold for Opal and Oscar, they are a strong, determined couple, and they’ll weather the storms together.
Oh, almost forgot to add, recently I’ve watched a group of four, young osprey practicing their diving and fish-capturing skills on the river. They swoop and call to one another, enjoying themselves immensely. A few days ago, I saw these four youngsters perched on the light poles along the soccer field, where Pablo and Pearl once nested. These osprey-kids were playing leap-frog along the lights and having a grand time of it. The last bird would fly up to the first vacant pole, then the third would move up and dislodge the second, and the second would dislodge the first, until the first bird flew up to the next vacant pole. And so it went…
Like my friends the osprey, both the young and the old, I know I must keep moving – forward, I hope. with determination and a bit of playfulness thrown in for good measure.
Oliver Wendell Homes observed,
The great thing in the world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving.
Fifteen years running, and looking as handsome as ever, Opal and Oscar Osprey have returned from their winter sojourn in warmer climes! Yes, our favorite osprey couple, seasonal residents at the US Naval Academy since 2001, are back and building once again!
Our power-couple arrived last Sunday and immediately commenced building – from scratch, a nest for their family. (You may recall that their nest was destroyed last summer when the Academy replaced all the field lights around the football practice field. (See the July 19, 2015 post.)
I’ve worried all winter how the osprey, if they returned, could possibly build a nest on the slender poles and brackets that lift these new, LED lights into the sky. The project seems to me like building a stilt house using only one stilt and a crossbar — 
very precarious.
And really, I’m not sure they’re going to succeed. Oscar and Opal have been at this project for three days now with little apparent success. Five different light poles now appear to be sprouting headdresses, with twigs and branches poking out in all directions. And beneath each of those five poles scattered sticks and branches testify to the difficult task undertaken by these devoted birds as they attempt to gain a foothold for their new home on one or another of these precarious poles. I’m hoping one of these attempts will actually hang together, providing a base for the new nest.
The male osprey gathers the nest-building material, often tearing dead branches from trees as he swoops past. The female then weaves those branches into a sturdy nest, lining it with bark and moss to receive her eggs.
Regionally, the Bay osprey are laying eggs now. The nest usually holds from two to four eggs. And, gestation lasts five or six weeks before the chicks hatch. Since osprey often live into their mid-twenties, couples may produce 40 or more progeny during their reproductive lives.
So, Opal and Oscar need to get their nest finished; they have other important work to do.
This morning I was delighted to see that Opal was keeping up her strength for the task ahead, dining on a squirming fish, held fast in her talons. Osprey prefer live sushi. To accommodate their taste for wiggling meals, one talon on each claw turns in so they can grip live fish securely with four talons. Additionally, the pads beneath those talons are velcro-like; those hooks provide additional gripping power for the slimy scales. The fish, often 12 – 14 inches long, doesn’t have a chance of escape.
In the days ahead, I will watch anxiously to see if our resourceful couple succeeds in rebuilding the family home.
I’ll also scan the sky for the return of the younger generation, Pablo and his life’s partner, Pearl. (You may remember that Pablo is, I deduced, one of Opal and Oscar’s hatchlings. I concluded that since Pablo was the only young, male osprey Oscar had ever allowed to perch in his territory, the young bird must be familiar to Oscar, not a threat.) Pablo and Pearl, returning for their third year, have their work cut out for them too; nothing remains of their nest on the nearby Academy soccer field.
And so it goes, bird or beast or human, we work, we suffer, sometimes we fail and sometimes flourish. And, if we’re lucky, somewhere, someone is waiting for our safe return and rooting for our success too.
Envision a group of talented and accomplished artists in a sun-filled room, the backdrop: boats bobbing in a picturesque anchorage. Now, add voices, some impassioned and some soft, speaking of successes and failures; hear the laughter in response to shared tales of memorable words and deeds – both helpful and hurtful, the murmurs of recognition and support.
You’re with me now, sharing my afternoon.. learning another form of gratitude.
I spent several hours recently talking with and listening to artists; painters, composers, potters, writers, musicians, and poets who magically apply a variety of talents and tools to create something entirely new and intriguing. They are compelled to create, and in doing so they make the world lovely, wise, sweet, raucous, pungent… and so much more.
Gratitude is the emotion that washed over me as I listened to their observations and anecdotes.
Artists, whose lives are driven by their desire to create, courageously launch their hearts and souls into the world manifesting their thoughts and feelings in music, on canvas, in clay, and in words. How often have I glibly passed judgement on this sculpture or that song, this short story or that play? I may not have given a thought to the artist’s courage when she or he labored alone to create that work. (And, yes, I know there is no need for that insight to play a part in my response to a work of art.)
Opening Lines 