So last night, as we steamed north from Cape Canaveral to Charleston, an osprey landed on the foremast. The moon was behind a thin, stratus mist that acted like a diffuser and lit the night as effectively as the full moon might have, and when the raptor came in from above the wheelhouse and banked hard, landing on the range light in profile to where I stood with binoculars, I thought it was a trick of the light that made this seabird look like a raptor.
I tried to convince myself that I was mistaken, too... when you're 100 miles offshore you don't expect to see an osprey. The last raptor I saw at sea was off the north coast of Africa - some type of kestrel or falcon, I think - but I could see the hills of Algeria looming in the humid air off to the south, then. I was not 100 miles offshore. It was not night time.
Osprey are surprisingly large, with bold black and white plumage- you don't mistake them for anything else.... so my inner conversation was "Is that...? No. But wait!" and I stared for 15 minutes, afraid to look away, in case it took flight and I could see that familiar shape and be certain that the dark wasn't playing with my eyes.
The bird preened for hours, I got a good, conclusive look- it was, indeed, an osprey... but she never flew off during my entire watch. She eventually put her head down and, as far as I can tell, slept. When I handed off the watch I handed her off to my relief and like to think she was satisfied that our ship would take her where she wanted to go, red-eye express, and arrived in South Carolina well rested.
I tried to convince myself that I was mistaken, too... when you're 100 miles offshore you don't expect to see an osprey. The last raptor I saw at sea was off the north coast of Africa - some type of kestrel or falcon, I think - but I could see the hills of Algeria looming in the humid air off to the south, then. I was not 100 miles offshore. It was not night time.
Osprey are surprisingly large, with bold black and white plumage- you don't mistake them for anything else.... so my inner conversation was "Is that...? No. But wait!" and I stared for 15 minutes, afraid to look away, in case it took flight and I could see that familiar shape and be certain that the dark wasn't playing with my eyes.
The bird preened for hours, I got a good, conclusive look- it was, indeed, an osprey... but she never flew off during my entire watch. She eventually put her head down and, as far as I can tell, slept. When I handed off the watch I handed her off to my relief and like to think she was satisfied that our ship would take her where she wanted to go, red-eye express, and arrived in South Carolina well rested.
I can remember Seaton Hall writing about some seabirds (what kind they were escapes me after all this time) riding out a storm on the Arctic Troll and getting seasick. They threw up lots of partially digested fish for the sailors to clear away after the birds recovered and flew away. At least your Osprey just rode along and slept - much better as a passenger.
ReplyDeleteThe Momster