My treat for the day was watching the osprey finally get a fish on its fourth dive into the pond.
I can see its eyes, its talons, it indecisiveness and aborting a dive. I can almost feel it spring out of the water, shaking that cold wetness from its feathered back and wings, climb back up in the air, and finding a thermal to coast, I could almost feel its exhaustion.
I stood there with my eyes projected through the binoculars, almost flying and diving with it, smiling and rooting for this osprey, calling it ‘Sweetheart’, and remembering why it was known as the ‘sea eagle’ where I grew up.
I love ospreys. If I can’t be an osprey, take me with you in flight and in dive.