I had already spent so much time staring at the Ospreys sitting in a tree (the birds, not me) and watching their every move, I was really getting on their wavelength.
They noticed, and scrutinised everything that moved in their field of view. A raven croaking overhead, a sparrowhawk zipping past, a fly being very irritating, They never sat together in the same stretch of creek, but I knew the other bird was approaching when the Osprey I was watching called with a piercing chirp.
I actually started to think like an Osprey and paddled upstream when I saw the first surge of Grey Mullet moving below me through the clear water of the incoming tide. Amongst them I thought I saw the odd Bass. One Osprey flew overhead and landed on a dead branch overlooking the water.
It was clearly looking for fish and every so often bobbed its head as it worked out the range.
I tucked in to the bank and waited with camera poised, absolutely still. With a bit of luck it was going to catch a fish right in front of me. Conditions were perfect: dead still and silent, sun behind. After half-an-hour the camera was heavy in my hand and my eyes going a bit screwy, so I poured a cup of coffee.
The bird was being pestered by a Raven so I thought its concentration would be compromised.
Wrong. At that precise moment I slurped my first draught the Osprey literally fell off its branch and angled almost vertically down and smacked into the water with a huge splosh only twenty yards away. My coffee went flying as I grabbed the camera. The Osprey spent about twenty seconds in the water as it grappled with a fish, and then lumbered into the air with its prize, a Sea Bass, well pinned by its talons. Excellent.
The fine weather continued so I returned to the estuary with the motley crew. Yet another perfect day (yawn).
James and I found the Osprey in its usual tree and sat and watched…and watched…and watched…for four hours! It kept giving the impression it was going to do something dramatic, but then settled down to preen. Again. Simon and Dave paddled many miles up the estuary and back and were rather surprised to find us still in the same place.
As soon as my paddling chums had departed, the action started. I found the other Osprey sitting further up the estuary, and it was clearly poised for action, bobbing excitedly as it caught sight of a fish below.
I was ready with the camera poised, but when it launched itself downwards I still managed to miss the moment. What a bungle. Here’s what I managed to get…
It’s a pity it was an unsuccessful plunge. But it caught a fish a few minutes later. I saw it smack into the water quite a long way off, and then flap at the surface for a surprisingly long time. I then lost sight of it as I passed behind moored boat, and assumed it had flown off. But as I approached I was amazed to see it was still floundering in the water several minutes after diving in.
Eventually it managed to get airborne and it flew past down river. Its prize, another Bass, was slung perfectly beneath its body, fish’s head pointing forwards as always, and feet positioned one in front of the other. Like a torpedo beneath a WW2 bomber. This Osprey was learning fast!
I watched it disappear off a couple of miles downstream, and I knew it would be going to its favourite plucking post on the horizontal branch.
When I arrived on the scene, being very careful not to alarm the bird, it had just started feed. It wasn’t the Osprey in a flap, it was the Bass!
As I had observed before the inerds seemed to slip down best. No nasty bones to worry about:
As I paddled back to the slipway I heard a clamour of crows overhead and the other Osprey was circling in a majestic fashion, with an entourage of corvids in disarray around it. It really didn’t seem to mind the ‘mobbing’ of the smaller birds at all. If anything, it was enjoying it, every so often dropping a wing and chasing one of its pursuers. Definitely a young bird larking about.
I was just about to ‘pack up’ for the day when the second Osprey flew over my head, landed on a nearby branch and started to eat its prey, another Bass.
The word ‘amazing’ keeps springing to mind, but it doesn’t really do all these extraordinary sights justice.
I’ve left the best video clips till last. If you’ve already lost interest and are watching Richard Osman’s House of Cards, then you will be missing out.
Although the two Ospreys never perched in the same tree together, they were very vocal whenever the other flew past. In this video the first call you will be able to hear is the passing bird, which generates a begging response from the perched bird before it ‘chips’, very loudly, a reply.
Half-an-hour later, the same bird, in the same tree, with me still sitting below looking upwards, had finished preening and suddenly stared very intently at a patch of water nearby. It started to do a bit of range-finding by bobbing its head, and I could sense something was about to happen.
It did…
What a splosh! Just a pity that it didn’t catch that fish!
Two days ago was my final sight of the Ospreys. I cannot resist putting in this quite long video clip. I nicely sums up the whole experience of the last two weeks for me.
It certainly ticks all the boxes of the stuff that is supposed to be beneficial to our health at the mo. Nice little bit of exercise, mindfulness, engaging with nature, rebooting reality.
A super-peaceful and remote Cornish Creek, drifting along in my kayak in complete silence, with one of the UK’s most renowned and majestic mega-predators chilling out and sprucing itself up on a tree nearby.
The next day (yesterday) they were gone. I paddled up and down the estuary looking at all their favourite perches, but I could tell they had moved on. The gulls were quiet, the crows were silent. When the Ospreys are on the wing both of these species make a relentless racket. I actually felt a bit sad.
Their departure was not a surprise. The wind had shifted to the north overnight so they had a decent tailwind for their onward migration to West Africa.
I very much hope I make my acquaintance with them again next year.
The Lone Kayaker 