Ospreys are plentiful here on this restless ribbon of sand. There’s usually one on the tree not far from my porch.
I call him ‘O’. His peeps and squeaks are a summons to worship.
I’m in awe of O’s aerial displays. He wheels high overheard, then lands on his preferred branch to devour fish after fish… after fish… after fish. O is a fiercely determined fisher.
I read everything the FWC (Florida Wildlife Commission) writes. They know it all and are happy to share. Every piece they publish makes me curiouser and curiouser. I learned that osprey fly hundreds, yes hundreds, of feet up before diving in quickly for the kill. O’s flight ritual is to fly gimlet-eyed above the water, grooved talon pads grazing the surface, then closing in a mortal-lock cinch to snag a meal. The Birds of Florida Field Guide says the osprey is the only raptor that plunges (sometimes up to three feet) into the water. Cool, with an attitude. (I could like swimming/diving if I had osprey nostrils with closable valves, no water up my nose.)
I’m pretty sure O is a male. Clearly, courtship is definitely in progress. O shows off his catch. A lot. See, ladies, what a good provider I am!
But I’m a birding newbie. Identification is pretty subtle stuff. FWC says that males tend to look goggle-eyed; females look squintier and smaller-eyed. If the bird has dark brown chest markings, it’s a female. But wait! Unless it happens to be a male with dark chest markings, because that happens, too. Or it might be an immature. The crown of an immature osprey is more heavily streaked with brown than that of an adult. Unless it’s an adult with a streaky crown. See? Subtle stuff.
O’s feathers are very oily for extra waterproofing. I’ve seen him emerge carrying a large fish, shaking the water from his feathers like a dog. Beguiles the eye.