cent douze

2.303km run, and I'm back into it, running through the new morning, all green and golden and birdsong-filled.  My familiar, my meadow, up heartbreak hill, pausing in my mind for the grey rabbit-fur against the green grass, that was death a couple of days or nights ago. But I am still alive, and my old legs take me in an easy leap over the fallen tree across the path, no one chasing me, except the One with the sickle, but he's still pretty far away, I hope.

A few years ago I accompanied Tim and another couple for a weekend "Down-East" which is a common term for the coast of Maine, and comes from the sailors who used to sail from Boston to Maine, which was east of Boston, and they would sail down-wind, hence "Down East".  We travelled to the little town of Damariscotta Mills, where the annual alewife migration provides a feast for Ospreys and photographers.

Tim took some incredible pictures of these fantastic hunters, including this beauty:

Notice how they turn the fish face first so that the dangling prey is still aero-dynamic.

 I was fascinated by the fish-ladders and took many images of fish leaping up through the wonderful fish-ladders and the incredibly strong currents of the rapids. 

There is an osprey couple nesting in the little reservation around the corner from us, with a web-cam trained on them so that you can watch all the daily events of the nest.  Ospreys love building nests on platforms near the water, so the park managers decided to build a platform with a camera directed at it, and this is the fourth year this couple, Allyn and Ethel, have returned.

I discovered them last year and watched them avidly, rejoicing in the three eggs they laid, watching Allyn bring fish for the sitting female to tear apart in her very bloody fashion, sympathizing with Ethel hunkering down disconsolately in the rain, and then being so excited when one of the eggs hatched, and keeping track of this one little scrawny chick.

And then, disaster!  One Sunday I clicked on the osprey-cam and the nest was empty!  The little chick had only been twelve days old, still a funny-looking pink scrawny little thing, and they think that a Great Horned Owl took it.  Apparently those are the only birds brave enough to deal with Osprey parents.  I was devastated, as, I expect, were many thousands of other viewers of the webcam.

So I have been watching Ethel, who has now laid three eggs again, and is sitting proudly atop them.  According to calculations, in about 35 days the first egg should begin to hatch.  Oh, I have such hopes for them, these beautiful birds.

Ethel with two eggs.  She laid the third one yesterday. 

I am always attracted to animals which mate for life, being the romantic that I am, and Ospreys are one of those birds, like swans and puffins (Puffins can fly at a speed of 55 miles an hour [88km]!  They flap their wings 400 times a minute!)

So here's to Allyn and Ethel's success at procreating this year!