Return of the Ospreys

Ospreys have returned from their South American wintering grounds. While some spent the winter in Florida, joined by a number of northern migrants, many of our summer ospreys headed to South America. On some of our local waterways, the returning birds have boosted the population considerably. Birders and nature lovers are thrilled with the arrivals; others have more tepid feelings.

For as long as humans have fished Homosassa, from the first Paleo-fishermen who cast bone fish-hooks and nets into the river 14,000 years ago, to modern anglers with computerized fish finders, one thing that hasn’t changed is the dumbfounded look on their face when an osprey casually snatches a lunker from the water nearby.

Early fishermen were convinced that ospreys had supernatural abilities. In The Battle of Alcazar, 16th century playwright, George Peele said fish “turn their glistering (sic) bellies up” for the “princely osprai.” Some people believed the birds fishing prowess came from substances in their feathers. This carried feathers as charms to ensure good fishing. In 1794, missionary/explorer George Henry Loskiel wrote that osprey flesh had oil that could be smeared on bait to make it irresistible to fish.

With time, people realized there was no magic involved--it was simply physical adaptations that gave osprey’s their uncanny fishing skills. But, even the world's finest minds didn’t always get it right. In 1760, Albertus Magnus asserted that ospreys had one webbed foot for swimming and the other had talons. It took the curiosity and marksmanship of Carl Linnaeus to get an osprey “in the hand” and see there were no webs. Instead he found a pair of highly specialized fish-grabbers with long, strongly curved talons and spiny toe pads to help grasp the fish. He also realized that one of the front toes could twist backward, giving extra grip with two talons facing forward and two facing backward.

Of course this doesn't mean people had never seen an osprey up close. They had. In fact, during the age of chivalry, ospreys were raised by falconers in hopes of training them to hunt. It was a short-lived experiment, however, because the ospreys had their own idea of how the game was played. While they were happy to go catch a fish, they wouldn't bring it back to their handler. Instead they would find a perch and eat it before returning to their "master." (I wonder if they did their trademark fly-over, just to annoy their handler.)

One Homosassa resident that has certainly taken note of the returning ospreys is the bald eagle. For countless millennia, bald eagles have routinely mugged osprey to steal their fish. It’s a familiar sight on our tours; an osprey flies overhead carrying a fat bass when suddenly an eagle swoops down and, in a flurry of feathers and talons, causes the osprey to drop its catch. The eagle then swoops down and snatches the falling fish from mid-air.

This predator-thug relationship has gone a long way toward staining the bald eagles noble reputation. In William Bartram’s notes about ospreys, his praise of the so-called “fish hawk” is matched only by his disdain for the eagle. In Travels, he states “This princely bird subsists entirely on fish which he takes himself, scorning to live and grow fat on the dear earned labours of another; he also contributes liberally to the support of the bald eagle.”

But of all the quotes I can cram into this brief missive, the timeliest comes from Audubon, who noted that in late February, “the fish hawk had only eggs …when the young of the eagle were large and fully able to fly.” This accurately describes the current state of affairs on Homosassa and other local waterways. While winter-nesting bald eagles are now teaching their youngsters how to fly and hunt, the returning ospreys are just getting started:, courting, nest-building and even a bit of fishing, ever-willing to take a moment to give us a fly-by to proudly show us their catch.