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OSPREY. 


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THE HOME-LIFE 


OF 


THE OSPREY 


PHOTOGRAPHED AND DESCRIBED 


BY 
CLINTON G. ABBOTT, B.A: 


ASSOCIATE OF THE AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGISTS’ UNION 


WITH SOME PHOTOGRAPHS BY HOWARD H. CLEAVES, ASSOCIATE OF 
THE AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGISTS’ UNION. 


WITH THIRTY-TWO MOUNTED PLATES 


LONDON 
WITHERBY & CO. 326 HIGH HOLBORN W.-C. 
MCMXI. 


THE BIRD-LOVER’S HOME-LIFE SERIES. 
LA a EELS ES SAAR 


UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME 
THE HOME-LIFE OF A GOLDEN EAGLE 


Photographed and described by 
H. B. MACPHERSON 


THE HOME-LIFE OF THE SPOONBILL 
THE STORK AND SOME HERONS 


Photographed and described by 
BENTLEY BEETHAM, F.Z.S. 


Each Volume—Cloth 6s. net. Special Edition ros. 6d. net. 


20143 
“ ra ae $4 


LIST OF PLATES. 


Plate 1.—‘‘The most surprising discovery.” Photographed by H. H 
Cleaves. 
»» 2-~A pleasing succession of rolling meadows, thick coverts, 
and stately trees (a). Photographed by H.H. Cleaves. 
A delight to be able to gaze with perfect ease into the 
homes of these birds (0). 
3.—Perched on the top of a weather-beaten old rock (a). 
Both the Ospreys, a Purple Grackle, and a Woodpecker’s 
hole directly below the nest (4). 


4.—A nest that would probably tip the scales at half a ton. 
»  5.—Trees which hold Ospreys’ nests gradually die. 


6.—The baby Osprey is covered with a short, prim down (qa). 
How exactly the young match the bed of the nest (4). 
Photographed by H, H. Cleaves. 


Lying prone in the presence of intruders . . . the first 
sign of life is a bristling of the feathers on the back. 


a5 7: 


8.—Rise and turn toward one, with ruffled feathers and glaring 
eyes. 

g.—Will trail their wings, and lower their heads in wicked 
fashion (a). The bill comes closer and closer to the 
nest (0). Photographed by H. FH. Cleaves. 

1o.—A “blind” was placed close to the nest (a). The bird, as 
she alights (0). 

11.—The flash of her eye. Photographed by H. Ff. Cleaves. 

12,—-A parent and her full-grown young (a). In spite of their 
fierce looks, they were absolutely harmless (4). 


” 


? 


” 


6 


LIST OF PLATES 


Plate 13.—Standing like a sentinel on a conspicuous perch close by. 


14.—She unfolds her great wings. 
15.—And precipitates herself into the air. 


16.—An Osprey as seen directly from behind (a). Her broad 
wings beat the air as she puts on the brakes (4). 
Photographed by H. H. Cleaves. 


17.—She raises her wings high above her back. 

18.—A few extra flaps as the bird gains her equilibrium. 
19.—She will stand beside her young for hours. 

20.—Round comes the bird well above the nest. 

21 —She swings gracefully in, as if about to settle. 

22.—She hovers, gazing apprehensively at the “ blind.” 
23.—She turns in the air and passes on. 

24.—Checks with her broad wings the momentum of her flight. 


25.—The pleasing glimpse of the barred under-surface of the 
wing (a). Immediately the chick seeks the cooling 
shelter of his mother’s breast (4). 


26. —Occasionally she holds her wings broadly outspread. 

27.--The gasping of the young is evidence of the intense heat. 

28.—Tears off morsels with her bill, which she gives to the little 
ones. Photographed by H. H. Cleaves. 

29 —They will look up to greet their mother. Phofographed by 

fT. H. Cleaves. 

30 —The male suddenly appeared with a fish in his talons (a). 
He released his hold on the fish with the hinder 
talon (4). 

31.—The female appeared and alighted beside her mate. 


32.—The telegraph-pole nest (a). A picturesque nest on a 
fence (0). 


THE HOME-LIFE OF 
THE “OSPREY: 


Wuen, in 1897, after living in England, circumstances 
brought me to the United States, it was an interesting task 
to try to identify the confusing throng of birds with which 
I found myself surrounded. Of all my new acquaintances, 
none made a greater impression upon me than a large 
brown hawk, which I knew could be none other than the 
Osprey, and which I was amazed to find commonly fishing 
in the waters about New York. Although scientists have 
separated Pandion haliaétus carolinensis from its European 
congener, Pandion haliaétus haliaétus, by reason of its 
slightly greater size and whiter breast, it is, to all intents 
and purposes, the same bird, and indistinguishable in the 
field from the fast vanishing British bird. 

I had often read of the lonely Osprey tenants of one or 
two silent Scottish lochs, with the watchful eye of a warden 
constantly upon them, and my surprise can therefore be 
imagined when I saw my first American Osprey’s nest. It 
was at a popular seaside resort in New Jersey, and perched 
on a tree overlooking a lake full of row boats and noisy 
holiday-makers. 

From these beginnings my acquaintance with the Osprey 
has gradually grown. Although my field-work is neces- 
sarily limited to the brief opportunities of a business man, 
I have, during the past ten years, found it possible, on 
several occasions, to make a fairly close study of this bird 
on its nesting grounds. The gregarious habit of the 
American species renders its observation particularly feasible 


8 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


and interesting. My chief fields of operation have been : 
various points on the coast of New Jersey, where I have 
spent several summers (going to and fro from New York 
every day), and where Ospreys are locally quite abundant ; 
Great Lake, North Carolina, where there are thirty nests, 
and near which I camped from June 16th to 23rd, 1909 ; 
and, especially Gardiner’s Island, New York, which contains 
perhaps the largest known colony of Ospreys, and which 
I have been privileged to visit upon three occasions. In 
addition, I have seen various isolated nests, and have 
gathered together a not inconsiderable mass of general 
notes, such as a bird-lover might be expected to accumulate 
about a species in which he is particularly interested. 

Ospreys, or Fish-Hawks as they are more commonly 
named in the United States, arrive from the south in the 
region of New York about the end of March, when the ice 
has disappeared from lakes and rivers; they depart again 
in the early part of October. During migration they 
may be seen flying even over the built-up portions of the 
city, or fishing in the park lakes. Near settlements of 
immigrant foreigners I have known of disgraceful cases of 
ruthless shooting of these noble birds for no apparent 
purpose other than a mere test of markmanship. In one 
instance the corpses of no less than three Ospreys were 
found close to an old tree, upon which the birds were 
accustomed to perch. Yet in spite of persecution, Ospreys 
still nest, or attempt to nest, annually within the city 
limits of New York. 

The inspiring and picturesque manner of capturing its 
prey is undoubtedly the characteristic for which the Osprey 
is most famous. Fortunately for the ornithologists in 
America, the bird is still sufficiently common to afford 
even the casual bird-student ample opportunity of witness- 
ing its interesting manceuvres while in search of a meal. 
The height from which an Osprey will descend for a fish 
varies. His eye is exceedingly keen, and not infrequently 
he will spy a victim while soaring at an elevation of two or 


THE OSPREY. 9 


three hundred feet. When intent upon food, however, 
he usually works at a height between thirty and one hundred 
feet. Alternately flapping and sailing, he flies leisurely 
over the water, his head distinctly bent forward as he 
deligently scans the surface. Suddenly he pauses and 
hovers, on rapidly beating wings. His gaze is doubtless 
fixed upon a fish below, but for some reason, conditions 
are not favourable for a descent, and he passes on. Again 
his attention is arrested and his course checked. This time 
he drops to a lower level and starts for the water, only to 
veer off and fly away as though he had suddenly changed 
his mind. Probably the fish had sought a lower level at 
the last moment, and it was evident to the Osprey that 
a plunge would be futile. But finally the opportunity 
arrives. Hardly pausing in his flight, the Osprey drops 
like a plummet through the air, and, striking the surface 
of the water with a resounding splash, is obscured from 
sight in a mass of foam. Sometimes, indeed, he disappears 
for an instant altogether beneath the water. But imme- 
diately upon emerging, his broad wings are vigorously 
flapped, and he mounts into the air triumphantly bearing 
his prey in his talons; for when an Osprey once decides 
to plunge, he very seldom rises “ empty-handed.” 

In descending upon a fish, the Osprey drops with half- 
folded wings, and appears to strike the water with his breast ; 
the legs are then thrust downward with lightning rapidity, 
and the body is brought into a horizontal position. After 
grasping the fish he immediately starts to fly, often labori- 
ously at first and unsteadily, by reason of the strugglings 
of his victim. As soon as he has risen to a height of from 
eight to twelve feet, he invariably shakes the spray from 
his plumage by a convulsive quivering of his wings and 
body. For this brief instant his momentum is checked, 
and he falls perhaps as much as four or five feet. After 
quivering once or twice a bird will sometimes lose so much 
altitude that the fish is nearly dragging in the water, and 
he is compelled again to resume flight. Then, perhaps, 


fe) THE HOME-LIFE OF 


he will give another final shake to satisfy himself that he 
is rid of all possible surplus moisture, and will rise steadily 
to the level of the tree-tops, when an even course is 
maintained until the nest or the favourite feeding-perch 
is reached. 

‘The Osprey’s invariable method of carrying a fish head 
foremost, in order to avoid resistance to the air, is well 
known. Normally, the fish is grasped firmly in both talons, 
and there appears to be no preference in holding either 
the right or the left leg forward. In the case of a very 
small fish or a fragment, one foot only is often employed, 
the other being perhaps in normal flight-position—extended 
to the rear under the tail. Friends of mine have seen 
Ospreys turn a fish round in mid-air, so as to bring the head 
to the front, and also transfer a small fish from one foot 
to the other. When both talons are engaged, the position 
of the fish is toward the rear rather than under the centre 
of the bird (wide Plate 30a). Large fish are occasionally 
seen to extend beyond the end of the bird’s tail. Not 
infrequently the fish is carried on its side, or belly up, but, as 
always, pointing in the direction of flight. ‘There appears to 
be no definite rule as to just what part of the fish shall be 
grasped by the bird’s talons. Sometimes the feet are so far 
apart that the fish’s body sags between them; at other times 
the feet are both held so near the fish’s head that its tail 
droops and flops at each wing-stroke. 

With both talons occupied in the carrying of a fish, I 
had been puzzled at the ready ability of an Osprey to alight 
upon the branch of a tree, or the pointed top of a telegraph 
pole. But close observation, assisted by the work of a rapid 
focal-plane camera shutter, has revealed that just as the 
bird approaches a perch, the hinder foot (be it right or 
left) is disengaged and stretched forward. ‘This free talon 
grasps the perch first, and instantly the fish is slapped down 
by the other talon and held securely beneath the weight 
of the bird. In some of my photographs it may be seen 
that at the moment of alighting, the tail of the fish, released 


THE OSPREY. II 


from the support of the hinder foot, is starting to drop 
downward in the air (vide Plate 33b). Similarly, in flying 
from a perch with a fish, I have noted that at the moment 
the bird first rises, the fish is held only by the forward foot; 
the other is then more or less deliberately clasped on behind. 
In this connection it might be stated that Ospreys often 
exhibit a surprising disinclination to eat their prey. I have 
seen them bear it about for hours, settling, flying again, 
soaring, but ever holding fast to the precious fish. One 
almost forgets that it is food, and could imagine it is 
something the birds cannot rid themselves of ! . 
The varieties of fish fed upon by the Osprey appear to 
be limited only by its ability to catch them. Any fish that 
ascends to the surface of the water, and is not too large or 
too small to be extracted, appears to be welcome game. 
The inhabitants of salt and fresh water are equally taken. 
The only species worthy of particular note is a flat-fish, 
commonly called the Flounder, which I have often observed 
Ospreys carrying. This is naturally a “bottom” fish, 
and fishermen declare that the bird will descend four or 
five feet into the water to capture it as it lies in the shallows. 
However, ichtyhologists inform me that the Flounder 
sometimes comes near to the surface to strike at food. 
With the ingenuity instinctive to the bird-photographer, 
my friend Mr. Howard H. Cleaves, of Staten Island, New 
York, conceived the idea of attempting to photograph an 
Osprey plunging, by the use of an imitation fish. ‘Through 
a friend in the American Museum of Natural History, 
he secured an accurately coloured wax model of a large 
Goldfish—a species the Osprey is commonly seen to take 
in the spring, when waters are still murky from the winter’s 
floods. From the under-side of the fish extended a strong 
wire rod which, during experiments, was driven into the 
mud in a shallow part of a large pond, holding the fish 
near the surface of the water, as though basking in the 
sunshine. On three separate occasions, April 19th, April 
23rd, and May 7th, 1911, Mr. Cleaves set out the fish and 


12 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


focussed his camera on the spot. Although Ospreys visited 
the pond on each of the days, it was only on the second 
that any success was achieved. I will present the incident 
in Mr. Cleaves’s own words :— 

‘“‘ After concealing my camera, I attached a thread to 
the shutter and carried the end to a chicken-house, a hundred 
yards off, where I sat down on a box to wait. Soon a 
Fish-Hawk came in over the pond from the bay outside, 
where he had been hovering from time to time in search 
of salt-water fish. As he swung gracefully over to my 
side of the pond and advanced in the direction of the decoy, 
poising himself now and again, my pulse quickened. 
But much to my disappointment, he passed directly above 
the fish and apparently took no notice of it. Then he 
flew back to the opposite end of the pond, and once more 
worked his way along the shore toward the camera. ‘This 
gave me new life, and I was further encouraged when he 
seemed to hesitate for a second or two above the spot 
where the fish was anchored. I was convinced that this 
supposition was correct when the Hawk flew to a dead tree, 
and then deliberately returned to a position directly above 
the fish. After hovering for a few moments the bird 
returned to the tree. ‘Then he flew out over the fish again, 
and once more went back to his perch. ‘This performance 
was repeated fully four or five times. The bird was 
evidently puzzled; but he was also hungry. At last he 
circled about to a point south of the ‘‘ fish,” and glided very 
cautiously down toward it at a gradual slant. He did 
not make the usual sensational plunge, but seemed to 
lower his talons into the water quite deliberately, as if a 
bit suspicious and inclined to feel his way before taking firm 
hold of his quarry. At the moment his feet entered the 
water I gave the thread such a vigorous pull that the 
camera was turned half way round, as I afterwards found. 

“The bird arose with empty talons and returned to his 
perch on the tree. I ran to the water, waded out up to 
my knees and found that the fish had entirely disappeared, 


THE OSPREY. 13 


Feeling about, I came across it at last, lying flat on the 
bottom. ‘The force of the grip had evidently been con- 
siderable to dislodge the wire and upset the fish. The 
Hawk’s claws had left five marks on the decoy, two on each 
side of the back in front of the dorsal fin, and one on the 
right side of the dorsal fin toward the rear.” 

The negative, which was unfortunately under-exposed, 
represents the bird with the entire legs and end of the tail 
submerged, wings raised aloft, and neck stretched forward 
—an attitude of evident upward striving. The experiments 
were all carried on in the early morning before visitors 
began to throng the shores of the pond, which is quite a 
populous neighbourhood. An amusing incident, wit- 
nessed by myself on the last occasion, was when Mr. Cleaves, 
after waiting unsuccessfully for several hours, strode into 
the water and emerged triumphant with the large Goldfish 
in his arms, before the astonished gaze of picnickers who 
had arrived in the meantime ! 

My best opportunities for studying the nesting of the 
Osprey have been at Gardiner’s Island, a roughly triangular 
piece of land some three thousand acres in extent, which 
lies about three miles from the eastern point of Long 
Island. My visits to this world-famous breeding colony 
of Ospreys have been: July 4th to 11th, 1903, in company 
with Dr. Philip H. Bahr, a member of the British Ornitho- 
logists’ Union ; July 4th, 1905, in company with Dr. Wm. 
C. Braislin, a member of the American Ornithologists’ 
Union ; and July 2nd to 6th, 1910, in company with Mr. 
Howard H. Cleaves, Assistant Curator in the Public 
Museum, New Brighton, New York. In addition, a party 
of five members of the Linnean Society of New York 
visited the island from June 8th to 14th, 1911; and all 
have kindly placed at my disposal such of their valuable 
notes as relate to the Osprey. 

Gardiner’s Island is in many respects an ideal resort for 
Ospreys. It is surrounded by waters rich in fish ; in fact 
it is an important source of supply for the New York markets. 


14 THE HOME-TIFE OF 


The island has remained in the possession of the Gardiner 
family since it was first ceded to them by the Indians in 
1637 for “ten coats of trading cloath’” “Whe birds have 
therefore been favoured not only with the protection 
afforded by natural isolation, but with the zealous guardian- 
ship of generations of owners interested in their welfare. 
Excepting a few fishermen, who are permitted to build 
shanties for shelter while tending their nets, all persons 
must secure permission to land upon the island. As a 
result, the Ospreys have been practically free from human 
molestation. Gardiner’s Island has been likened to the 
Isle of Wight, and although perhaps the definite points 
of resemblance would be hard to designate, nevertheless 
the simile is an indication of the natural beauties of the 
Ospreys’ chosen haunt. Maintained as a great farm and 
game-preserve, its vistas present a pleasing succession of 
rolling meadows, thick coverts, stately trees, lakes, and 
grassy marshes (Plate 2a). 

When one approaches the island from the south, as I 
did on my original visit, the first nest to be seen 1s one 
perched on the top of a weather-beaten old rock in the 
water, about two hundred yards from shore (Plate 3a). Its 
entire setting is quite ideal, and strongly suggests the historic 
sites of the old Scottish Ospreys’ nests described in St. 
John’s classic “Tour in Sutherland.” Surely no more 
romantic introduction to the Osprey at home could be 
desired. 

Upon landing, perhaps the most surprising discovery 
is the number of Ospreys’ nests built directly upon the 
ground (Plate 1). With memories of previous nests 
straddling inaccessible crotches in the tops of tall trees, 
it is certainly a delight to be able to gaze with perfect ease 
into the homes of these magnificent birds as one walks 
along the beach (Plate 24). For the majority of ground 
nests are confined to the sea-beach—just why, it is hard to 
determine. The fact is, Ospreys’ nests on Gardiner’s 
Island are placed in almost every conceivable situation. 


THE OSPREY. 15 


‘They are on trees by scores, both high up and low down ; 
on rocks and boulders, whether on land or in the water ; 
on sheds and buildings; on fences and walls; on piles of 
debris; on old stumps; on a floating wooden platform 
intended for the fishermen’s use; on a channel buoy; on 
sand-buffs; on pieces of wreckage, driftwood, and fish- 
boxes. ‘The birds even attempted to build on the slender 
stakes supporting the fish-nets! In all of these varied 
nesting-sites, however, it will be noted that at least the 
suggestion of an eminence has probably first attracted the 
Ospreys to the spot. Similarly, many of the ground nests 
are found to be very close to some prominent object— 
itself incapable of supporting the nest—such as a post, a 
notice-sign, a telegraph pole, or a pointed stone. ‘The 
high, shelving beach, with its tempting piles of seaweed, 
probably appealed to some of the first ground-nesters as 
an “eminence,” and their offspring have come back and 
chosen a similar nesting-site. At all events, in 1910 there 
was a succession of no less than twenty-two nests at intervals 
varying from eleven yards to three hundred yards along the 
beach, on the south-westerly side of Gardiner’s Island. 
Some of the most recent additions to the beach-nesting 
colony had certainly quite lost any instinctive attraction 
for an “eminence”; their nests being a mere scattering 
of sticks in the edge of the marsh-grass—in location 
suggesting more the humble home of the Tern than the 
eyrie of the noble Osprey. 

It is evident that only an island could afford protection 
sufficient for the undisturbed existence of Osprey’s nests 
upon the ground. On the mainland, the penalty of such a 
departure from normal instincts of self-preservation would 
doubtless have been speedy annihilation. But on Gardiner’s 
Island there are no predaceous mammals, no egg-eating 
rodents, or other enemies of the birds, and the ground- 
building Ospreys are as safe as those nesting in the tree- 
tops. It must not be inferred, however, that Gardiner’s 
Island is unique in harbouring the ground nests of Ospreys. 


16 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


Audubon observed them thus placed on the Keys of Florida,” 
Virginia fishermen tell of them on certain of the islands of 
that coast, they are recorded from Mainet and California,} 
while Plum Island, New York, contained ground-nests 
to the number of “ one hundred or more ” in 1879§ before 
Government fortifications and invading civilization drove 
all Ospreys from the place. 

The number of Ospreys’ nests on Gardiner’s Island 1s 
hard to estimate. They cover so large an area, and are 
built in such a variety of sites, that it is a difficult matter 
to count them. ‘There is one elevated point from which 
twenty-four nests are visible. Altogether 1 should say that 
two hundred nests would be a reasonable estimate. An 
idea of the abundance of the nests may be gained from the 
following reference in my diary to a short walk I took on 
the afternoon of July 3rd, 1910: “I must have seen at 
least twenty-five nests of whose existence in 1903 I had no 
recollection. In addition there were dozens whose general 
location I thought I recalled. They were everywhere !. 
Starting from our shanty there is one on the top of a thick 
vine-covered tree within a stone’s-throw; in the small 
wood across the first field there are three; in the trees 
that mark, the first fence, two; in trees about a little 
swamp in the next field, four; in the straggling strip of 
woods that leads back toward the beach, at least ten; 
while away across the island, silhouetted against the sky, 
was an extra big nest in a dead tree with its owners standing 
like statues above it (Plate 36). The heads of young 
could be seen peeping above the rim of almost every nest.”’ 
It is encouraging to note that the Gardiner’s Island Ospreys 
seem to be holding their own well, and perhaps to be even 
increasing. On a certain stretch of beach between two 
fences there were three nests in 1903; in 1910 there 
were seven. 


* cf. MacGillivray, ‘‘ Description of the Rapacious Birds of Great Britain,” p, 121. 
+ ‘* Bird-Lore,” IX., 1907, p. 327. 

{ Anthony, in Bendire’s ‘‘ Life Histories of North American Birds,” I., p. 322. 
& Allen, ‘* Auk,” TX., 1892, p. 317; 


THE OSPREY. 17 


The variety of nesting-material employed by Ospreys 
was well exemplified in the easily examined ground 
nests. The main composition is of rough sticks and 
branches, driftwood, brush, clods of earth, cow-dung, and 
horse-dung, dried herbage and plant stalks, bark, seaweed, 
eel-grass, and moss. ‘The softer materials are used to 
form the broad, flat, bed of the nest, only a small portion 
of which is required to contain the eggs. That flotsam 
and jetsam of any kind come not amiss as supplementary 
structural material, may be judged by the following catalogue 
of heterogeneous oddities, personally observed by me in 
Ospreys’ nests: strip of oilcloth, newspaper, cork-floats 
for nets, long string of conch’s “ eggs,” tow, dead crab, 
rung of a chair, wheel of a child’s mail-cart, half a barrel- 
head, barrel-staves, large piece of white canvas, stake with 
piece of rope tied to it, part of a fisherman’s net, sheep’s 
wool, straw bottle-cover, coloured paper flour-bag, turtle’s 
back, boards from boxes, dead skate, ropes up to five yards 
long, bones, sacking, bottle corks, skeletons of dead birds 
(White-winged Scoter, Red-breasted Merganser, Horned 
Grebe, Pheasant and Common ‘Tern identified), wing of 
Black Duck, large whelk and conch shells, small shells, 
stones and pebbles. The Ospreys gather their nest- 
materials on the beach and in the fields, and they have 
also been seen to break off the dead branches of trees by 
dropping upon them and grasping them with their 
talons.* Although the time of active nest-building is in 
early May, the birds are continually adding to and 
repairing their homes. Well on in July they may be seen 
sailing about with a large bough or trailing bunch of 
eel-grass in their talons. 

The size of the nests varies as much as the kind of building 
material employed. It is reasonable to suppose that the 
largest nests are usually the oldest, annual repairs for 
successive occupations having gradually increased the bulk 


* Chapman, ‘‘ Bird-Lore,” X., 1908, p. 153; and Kearton, ‘‘Our Rarer British 
Breeding Birds,” p. 64. 


18 THE HOME-LIVE OF 


of the structure. Such is undoubtedly the case in many 
instances, but by no means in all. For example, on my visit 
to Gardiner’s Island in 1903, I photographed a beach-nest 
which was some four-and-a-half feet high—the tallest 
ground nest on the island. In 1905, I again photographed 
the same nest, and comparative measurement of the prints 
(gauged by the old bird) shows practically no change in 
the size of the nest. In 1910 a nest standing on the same 
site was hardly one-third as large. In 1911 my friends 
measured and photographed the largest beach nest, which 
I at once recognised as my old subject, arisen within one 
year to its former shape and dimensions. Another instance 
was that of a tree nest, photographed in 1903 and 1910, 
which was found to have decreased in the interval about 
one-fifth of its bulk. 

Some idea of the weight of an Osprey’s nest may be 
gathered from the fact that a moderate-sized eyrie which 
was transported from Gardiner’s Island to the New York 
Zoological Park, weighed over four hundred pounds.* 
A nest such as that illustrated in Plate 4 would probably 
tip the scales at half a ton. ‘The photograph, which was 
taken in 1910, can never be duplicated, for the following 
spring the owners returned to find their home in ruins 
upon the stone wall at the foot of the tree. The birds, 
with instinctive devotion to the ancestral cradle, made 
strenuous efforts to render habitable the nest as it lay. 
But they were evidently confronted with conditions that 
they were unable to meet, and in June the eggs were 
found on a little bed of seaweed placed nearby upon 
the ground. 

It has frequently been remarked that trees which have 
held Osprey’s nests for a number of years gradually die 
(Plate 5). ‘The branches in proximity to the nest are the 
first to succumb, followed ultimately by the denudation of 
the entire tree. This is doubtless atrributable to the bulky 
and decaying mass of the nest itself, to the oil from fish, 

* Beebe, ‘‘ Zoological Society Bulletin,” No. 11, 1903, p. 120. 


THE OSPREY. 19 


and to the birds’ odour. Be it said, however, that as a 
result of the unusual development in young Ospreys of the 
sanitary instincts and powers common to all Rapzores, 
the nests are usually surprisingly clean and never assume 
the offensive condition common to those of many other 
fish-eating birds. 

The sides of the Osprey’s huge abode are often used by 
smaller birds in which to construct their own homes. 
Purple Grackles especially, commonly build in convenient 
niches among the sticks even of the ground nests. Being 
naturally gregarious, they will congregate to the number 
of six or seven pairs in one Osprey’s nest. While living in 
perfect harmony with their lordly host above, they main- 
tain an attitude of respectful deference so long as he is at 
home. But when the young Ospreys are alone, the Grackles 
pass boldly among them in foraging for fragments with 
which to furnish their own table. ‘The only other bird 
that I have seen taking advantage of this somewhat strange 
nesting partnership, is the ubiquitous House-Sparrow, 
which is not to be outdone in variety of nesting-sites! Hiram 
Miller, gamekeeper on Gardiner’s Island, says there are 
more House-Sparrows living in Ospreys’ nests than there 
are about the Manor House and farm buildings. In 
addition to the Purple Grackles and Sparrows, Ospreys 
are recorded to have admitted House Wrens* and even 
Night ‘Heronst as basement tenants. On the beaches, 
Meadow Mice have found the nests to be convenient 
mounds under which to construct their multifarious 
run-ways. In 1910 I photographed an imposing tree nest, 
the picture including, besides both the Ospreys, a Purple 
Grackle, which was about to enter its home, and a Wood- 
pecker’s hole in the branch of the tree directly below the 
Osprey’s nest (Plate 30). 

These facts all tend to show that Ospreys are of a peaceful 
and sociable nature. I have found them nesting amid a 

* Allen, *f Auk,” 1X., 1892, p. 319. 

¥ Fisher, ‘‘ Hawks and Owls of the United States,” p. 131. 


20 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


large colony of Florida Cormorants in North Carolina, 
and in a Night Heronry on Gardiner’s Island. They seldom 
molest other birds, but on the contrary, allow themselves 
to be pursued and harassed by assailants not one-tenth 
their size. On Gardiner’s Island their chief persecutors 
are the Kingbird, the Common Tern, and the Red- 
winged Blackbird. The Kingbird, or Tyrant Flycatcher, 
appears to regard the approach of any bird, large or small, 
into the neighbourhood of its nest, as an unwarranted 
trespass upon its chosen domain, and it promptly proceeds 
to drive the interloper out. It is almost laughable to 
watch the great Osprey fleeing ignominiously from its 
diminutive pursuer. In one instance I recall seeing a 
Kingbird displace with perfect ease an Osprey from a certain 
dead branch, for no more ostensible reason than that the 
Kingbird desired that particular perch from which to 
hawk for flies. 

At the southern extremity of Gardiner’s Island is a 
large colony of Common Tern, and close to, or among the 
Terns’ nests are three of four Ospreys’ nests. It is hard 
to understand why the Ospreys chose to build there, for 
they are being continually harried by the Terns. I have 
seen an Osprey driven from her nest by a Tern three or 
four times within a quarter of an hour. ‘The Tern would 
swoop at the Osprey close enough to make her “ duck.” 
After several swoops the Osprey would take flight, in a 
more or less unconcerned manner, circle about and alight 
again. The Tern seemed to take delight in tormenting 
her big neighbour from sheer “ cussedness.” Whenever 
an Osprey flew over the ‘Tern colony it was found to be 
pursued by several Terns, which would dart at it and 
cause it to dodge and veer in its flight. Were an Osprey 
bold enough to settle on a post or telegraph pole within the 
limits of the ‘Tern patrol, he was never allowed to rest in 
peace more than a few moments. Nevertheless, the 
Ospreys at the south end of the island are quite as successful 
as elsewhere in rearing their broods. 


THE OSPREY. 21 


In spite of my observations as to the passive nature of 
Ospreys, it is common belief among farmers that they will 
drive away other hawks. They are, therefore, well pro- 
tected and sometimes encouraged to nest near houses, by 
the erection of a horizontal platform, or cart-wheel on a 
tall pole. Ihave known ofa nest on the gable of an occupied 
farm-house in New Jersey, quite suggesting the home of 
the Stork in Old-world countries. It is most pleasing to 
find with what friendliness, the country over, Ospreys are 
regarded. ‘The fishermen of Gardiner’s Island, in spite 
of the large daily toll of fish which the birds take, bear not 
the slightest malice toward them. “They are a wonderful 
bird,” declared Mr. Tuthill, the hospitable fisherman in 
whose shanty we lodged, “‘ and we like them. The fish they 
take they are welcome to. It is sport to see them plunge ; 
what an eye they must have! Law or no law, we fishermen 
would not want to hurt them, and it was always Mr. 
Gardiner’s wish that they be left alone. Them and the 
Sea-Gulls we want to keep. The bird that we have no use 
for is the Cormorant. ‘They kill lots of fish for us and do 
not eat them, and drive them out of our nets.” 

The fishermen set their nets vertically in the water 
and running from the shore at right angles. At the outer 
end is an enclosure in which the fish, nosing their way 
along the net to find a passage, become impounded. The 
Ospreys have come to learn that this is easy fishing-ground, 
and they may be seen standing in considerable numbers 
on the stakes which support the nets (vide Plate 3a). 

When fishing at the nets, the Ospreys seldom take the 
trouble to hover, but just drop from a stake, swoop over 
the water, and snatch a fish in their talons. In open water 
I have also occasionally seen them seize in this way some 
fish that happened to be a particularly “easy mark”’ (as, for 
instance, in the case of the bogus Goldfish). In picking 
up dead fish, too, there is plainly no necessity for poising, 
and the bird just dips her feet into the water as she flies. 
For it must be admitted that the Osprey does sometimes 


22 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


feed on dead fish—not, however, in the manner of the 
Bald Eagle, after the fish have become decayed on the 
shore. It is to the credit of the Osprey that, unlike the 
‘“ King of Birds,” he is no scavenger! When the fishermen 
collect their daily catch at the nets, they throw away useless 
fish, which sometimes die and float on the surface. It 
is these that the Ospreys occasionally appropriate, usually 
not more than an hour after death. No other instances 
were observed of the birds taking dead fish. 

As an example of a wholly abnormal perversion of diet, 
the following incident has been given me by Mr. R. C. 
Murphy, Curator of Birds in the Brooklyn Museum: 
“About the first of September, 1903, the postmaster 
at Mount Sinai, Long Island, told me that a large hawk 
had been killed by one of his neighbours in the act of raiding 
a poultry-yard. I called at the place immediately, which 
was a small farm, where one woman lived alone, about 
two-and-a-half miles from the nearest water. Upon asking 
for the bird, I was surprised to find not one of the so-called 
“hen hawks,’ but an adult Fish-Hawk. The woman told 
me that on the afternoon of the previous day, which had 
been rainy, she had been disturbed by a commotion among 
her chickens, and on going into her yard, had found the 
Hawk with its talons sunk in a hen, and flapping violently 
in an attempt to fly off with its prey. She had killed the 
robber with a stick, and had freed the hen, which, however, 
died during the night. The Hawk which she gave me, 
was in a starved and emaciated condition, and was, of 
course, much bedraggled from lying out of doors in the rain. 
I preserved only portions of its skeleton.” 

Occasional frogs* or water-snakest form about the 
only other variation from the piscine bill-of-fare of the 
Osprey, and these can hardly be regarded as evidences 
of abnormal appetite in a bird accustomed to capture fish 
and eels. 


* Gentry, ‘‘ Life Histories of the Birds of Pennsylvania,” II., p. 278. 
+ Spreadborough, in Macoun’s ‘‘ Catalogue of Canadian Birds,” p. 288. 


THE OSPREY. 23 


So firmly are the Osprey’s claws imbedded in a fish he 
has struck, that he is sometimes unable to extricate them 
when he desires. Many instances are on record* of the 
bird being dragged under water and drowned by a fish 
whose strength was greater than his own. Mr. Cleaves 
once saw an Osprey struggle for some seconds with a fish 
that was apparently almost the bird’s equal. The Osprey 
became so exhausted that he simply allowed his wings 
to rest on the surface of the water, with his tail completely 
submerged ; but finally he got the best of the fish (believed 
to have been a German Carp) and very laboriously cleared 
the surface of the water, and flew to a dead tree at the edge 
of the pond. 

I have never been fortunate enough to witness the oft- 
described battle between a Bald Eagle and an Osprey, 
when the former intercepts the successful fisher and harasses 
him until he is compelled to drop his hard-gained prey. 
Nevertheless, this common method of obtaining a meal 
on the part of the lazy Eagle offers proof that the Osprey 
is, under these circumstances at least, amply able to release 
at will his hold upon a fish. In fact instances of the bird’s 
drowning are all the more surprising in view of the readiness 
with which the bird will drop its prey when on the wing. 
A shot, a well-directed stone, or even a clap of the hands 
will often have this effect. In other cases the bird will 
release its grip from sheer anxiety on behalf of its nest ; 
and still again from no apparent cause whatsoever. When 
a fish is accidentally dropped from a perch or over the edge 
of a nest, the Osprey, beyond a little craning of the neck in 
the direction the food fell, makes no attempt to recover the 
lost booty. Dried fish and eels caught in the sticks on the 
sides of nests perhaps indicate that here has been a catastrophe 
with which Nature has not fitted the Osprey to cope. 

The first part of. the fish to be disposed of seems invariably 
to be the head. This must often be torn off shortly after 


* cf. Naumann, ‘‘Birds of Middle Europe” (ed. 1905), V., p. 161; and Dresser, 
‘* Birds of Europe,” VI., p. 146, 


24 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


capture, for a large percentage of the fish seen carried by 
Ospreys or brought to the nests are headless. Mr. E. H. 
Baynes, of Meriden, New York, who kept two young 
Ospreys in a state of semi-domesticity, writes thus of their 
manner of eating* : “‘ They often began by picking out the 
eyes, perhaps because those organs were conspicuous and 
easily removed. ‘They held their food in their claws, and 
usually before seizing any part of it, they would “finger ”’ it, 
so to speak, with their bills, as though feeling for a good 
hold. ‘They would tear off large pieces, jerk them back- 
wards into the throat and swallow them. ‘They ate every 
part of a fish except the harder bones. ‘Tough pieces were 
removed by a steady upward pull, and the ends of bones 
were twisted off with a pivotal movement such as a man 
would use to draw a nail with a pair of pincers. Later, 
they ejected the bones and other indigestible particles 
in the form of pellets.” 

The first Ospreys’ eggs are laid on Gardiner’s Island, 
according to Hiram Miller, in the beginning of May. At 
the time of my visits the nests have practically all contained 
young, although I have seen unhatched eggs as late as July 
sth—probably a second laying, due to some misfortune 
earlier in the season. ‘They are about the size of hen’s 
eggs, and extremely handsomely marked with all shades of 
reddish-brown and claret upon a creamy ground. The 
usual number of eggs is three, occasionally only two, and 
seldom four. If the eggs are well incubated, or if the young 
have hatched when a mishap occurs, the bird will not lay 
again. But she does not always relinquish her affection for 
the nest: although it be empty, she will sometimes stand 
on its margin for weeks, and occasionally decorate its bed 
with fresh weeds. It is quite surprising to see a bird rise 
from her nest with cries of apprehension on one’s 
approach, and then to find that the nest is empty. It 
is a distinctly touching evidence of the maternal instinct 


in birds. 


*  Scribner’s Magazine, XLI., 1907, p. 701. 


THE OSPREY. 25 


I am informed by Mr. W. W. Worthington, of Shelter 
Island, New York, that the period of incubation is twenty- 
four to twenty-eight days. When the young hatch, the old 
bird seldom if ever removes the egg-shells from the nest. 
They are frequently to be found lying on the edge of a 
nest containing well-grown youngsters, and at other times 
the crushed fragments are mixed with the nesting-material 
under the young birds. 

When he makes his first appearance in the world, the 
baby Osprey is covered with a short, firm down, more 
like fur than feathers (Plate 62). It is striped longitudinally 
with brown and buff. Like smaller birds, he is provided 
with a supplmentary knob on the upper mandible, to assist 
him in breaking his way through the ege-shell. His eyes 
are open from the first. The naval cord is unusually 
conspicuous in the centre of a circular area of bare skin. 
At first the cere and feet are pink, and the toes are arranged 
as in the majority of birds, namely three to the front and 
one to the rear. Not until later is the evolutionary adapta- 
tion of the reversability of the outer toe developed. The 
interior of the mouth and tongue of the new-born bird 
are red. When approached, he holds up his open mouth 
for food, in the instinctive manner of smaller altricial birds. 
His only utterance is a single, weak monosyllabic sound. 
He is very susceptible to the direct rays of the sun, and 
exhibits great uneasiness even on a moderately hot day. 
In view of the usually unsheltered situation of most Ospreys’ 
nests, it is plain to see how essential to the welfare of the 
young is the parents’ protecting shade. ‘The mother 
bird is well aware of this fact, and when her babies are 
callow, will often exhibit heroic courage in her eagerness 
to afford them the shelter of her body. 

As the down grows it becomes fluffer, and the light and 
dark tracts are more contrasted in colour. Meantime the 
feathers, in their dark, pulpy sheaths, have been pushing 
their way through, and soon the down from their tips 
may be found clinging to the sticks in the net. In the 


26 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


half-downy, half-feathered stage, and in subsequent plumages, 
it is remarkable how exactly the young Ospreys match the 
bed of the nest (Plate 64). ‘They have a way of lying prone 
in the presence of intruders (Plate 7), and it is often almost 
an impossibility to determine from a short distance whether 
a nest 1s empty or contains young. Even when looking 
directly into a nest, one’s attention will perhaps be 
attracted by two youngsters, and a third that may be lying 
toward one side will be completely overlooked. So still 
do the young birds lie, that were it not for their breathing 
one could believe them dead. Usually they rest their 
heads on one side, or hang them over the edge of the nest 
in a peculiarly death-like attitude. They will allow flies 
to walk directly over their eyes, without exhibiting the 
slightest movement. If, however, the observer stands 
motionless for awhile, the little fellows soon begin to stir. 
Their first act is usually to hold up their heads and open 
their mouths, so that they can breathe more readily, for 
in the neighbourhood of New York at least, the month 
of July, when the young Ospreys are in the nest, is apt to 
be very hot. Soon the youngsters will have their tongues 
out and be panting like dogs, with a drop of moisture on 
the tip of their lower mandible or of their tongue. In 
all of the photographs herewith, when a young bird has its 
mouth open, it is due to the heat and not to any utterance, 
for young Ospreys are, in the main, very silent individuals. 
Not until they are well feathered have I ever heard them 
emit anything approaching Osprey-like sounds; I have 
then observed them imitate the cry of their parent 
overhead, in a charmingly babyish and amusing manner. 
At this latter age they add to the death-feigning instinct 
of the earlier period, a most interesting habit, which we 
may term “ looking fierce.” If, as they lie flat in the nest, 
they are approached too closely or touched, the first sign 
of life is a bristling of the feathers on the back (Plate 7). 
If the intrusion be continued they rise suddenly in the nest, 
and turn toward one with ruffled feathers and glaring eyes, 


THE OSPREY. 27 


which, coupled with a desire to bite when opportunity offers, 
is evidently calculated to scare the boldest of assailants 
(Plate 8). It does not take one long to discover, however, 
that this display of fierceness is mere show, and that even 
with its formidable bill the young bird is apparently 
incapable of inflicting a painful wound. The attitudes 
assumed by young Ospreys during this “looking fierce” 
operation are often ludicrous in the extreme. They will 
spread or trail their wings, lower their heads in wicked 
fashion (Plate ga), raise their crests, and in general assume 
as formidable an aspect as possible. Sometimes they 
exhibit the power of extending the feathers of the throat 
and cheeks, forming a sort of mask. 

After standing for a few moments in this “ terrifying ” 
attitude, the strength of the young bird begins to ebb and 
his muscles to relax; he will fall back on his “‘ heels,” and his 
head will begin to droop forward. At this stage he will 
often be resting on “ all fours,” so to speak, the “ shoulders 4: 
of his wings acting as supports to the fore-part of his body. 
They gradually give way, however, and the bird’s bill 
comes closer and closer to the nest (Plate 90), until at last 
he is once more in his original prone and death-like 
position. A fresh disturbing will arouse another display 
of “ fierceness,” though less vehement, and so on until 
the youngster becomes so disinterested that one must put 
one’s hand under the bird’s body before he can be induced 
to rise to his feet. If a young Osprey is raised above the 
level of the nest, he invariably clutches at the nesting- 
material, and it is a difficult matter to release it from 
his long, curved talons. 

While their young are being thus examined, the parent 
birds circle overhead with loud screeches. Although there 
are many indubitable records of their boldly attacking 
intruders in defence of their nest,* I have found them, for 
the most part, very ready to remain at a respectful distance. 
It is only occasionally that I have met with one courageous 

* cf. “ Auk,” XII., 1895, p. 361; and Newton, “ Dictionary of Birds,” p. 662. 


6¢ 


28 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


enough even to swoop at me, and then with no more 
viciousness than a Tern, and not as close. Once, when the 
keeper was on the beach at Gardiner’s Island with a dog, 
an Osprey swooped many times at the dog, coming closer 
than it would dare to a human being. But as a rule the 
birds soon cease swooping, and indulge in vocal, rather 
than personal, protestations. 3 

I have often stood, pencil in hand, and tried to put upon 
paper the remarkable variety of screams to which nervous 
Ospreys give voice. The commonest note is a shrill 
whistle, with a rising inflection: ‘“‘ Whew, whew, whew, 
whew, whew, whew, whew.” ‘This is the sound usually 
heard during migration; and when the bird is only slightly 
alarmed. When she becomes thoroughly aroused, it will be: 
“ Chick, chick, chick, cheek, cheek, ch-cheek, ch-cheek, 
cheereek, chezeek, chezeek,’ gradually increasing to a 
frenzy of excitement at the last. Another cry sounds 
like: ‘‘ Tseep, tseep, tseep—whick, whick, whick-ick-ick- 
ck-ck,” dying away in a mere hiccough. And there are 
endless variations quite incapable of syllabification. In 
addition to these loud screeches when disturbed, the Osprey 
has other notes which are unexpectedly weak for so large a 
bird. As we lay in our shanty, the Osprey’s notes from 
without would sometimes recall more the peeping of a 
chick that has lost its mother, than the voice of a 
magnificent bird of prey! 

One cry that my friends and I have particularly observed 
on our visits to Gardiner’s Island, is often reserved for 
occasions when the bird is carrying fish. She will then 
sometimes be seen to pause in her flight, extend her legs 
downward to their fullest extent, hover on rapidly-flapping 
wings and call out—very appropriately—‘‘ Feesh, feesh, 
feesh, feesh.”” Upon recognizing this cry we were seldom 
disappointed in finding our bird—although sometimes she 
goes through the antics without a fish—just extending her 
legs. In such cases and others, where the legs are caused 
to drop during flight (which is not an uncommon occur- 


THE OSPREY. 29 


rence) they never dangle loosely, but are held rigid with 
the “fists clenched.” Upon the resumption of normal 
flight, the legs are drawn back under the tail, without being 
bent and with the “‘fists”’ still clenched. Sometimes they 
are not pressed firmly up against the tail-feathers, and 
from the side, light can be seen between the outstretched 
legs and the tail. 

An amusing “ fish story ” in connection with the Osprey 
is told by the fishermen on the coast of Virginia. The 
patient Fish-Hawk, after having been many times thwarted 
of its rightful prey by the Eagle, at last manages to steal 
away and consume a meal in seclusion. He then flies 
forth into the open, and flapping his wings calls loudly, 
“‘ Feesh, feesh.”” The Eagle, at the welcome sound, rushes 
from his perch and assails the Hawk. Whereupon he lets 
fall from his talons the meatless bones of the fish he has 
just eaten, and flies away with (we may imagine) an audible 
chuckle of delight ! ! 

One of two methods was used in obtaining all the 
photographs of the adult Ospreys reproduced herewith. 
Either the camera was set up near the nest and released 
by a long thread from some hiding-place, or else—a much 
more satisfactory method when the birds would permit it— 
a “ blind,” concealing both operator and camera, was placed 
close to the nest (Plate 10a). ‘The type of blind we used 
is of the now well-known umbrella variety, originally 
invented by Mr. Frank Chapman; it consists of an open 
umbrella draped about with denim, thus forming a little 
tent inside of which the photographer can work unseen. 

I know of no more inspiring ornithological experience 
than the intimate acquaintance which the ground nests 
of the Osprey afford to the observer in the blind. The 
audible touch of the bird’s feet, as she alights upon the 
nest (Plate 100), the flash of her eye, the raising of her 
crest (Plate 11), the cry of recognition, and the following 
gaze as her mate flies overhead, the ruffling of the feathers 
to keep cool, the tender survey of the youngsters at her 


30 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


feet—and a hundred other little incidents—can be enjoyed 
in all their minutest detail. The more conspicuous acts 
can be well seen through a field-glass, but never with the 
same satisfaction as a near-at-hand view. 

In the presence of the blind, or the camera alone, the 
Ospreys displayed great variability in their willingness 
to return to their homes. Some would be back on the nest 
before we had gone one hundred yards, others would wait 
a whole morning, or decline to return at all. This variability 
of temperament is very conspicuous throughout one’s 
photographic operations with these birds; and not only 
do different Ospreys vary, but the same birds vary greatly 
at different times. An example of unusual confidence was 
afforded by the mother Osprey shown in Plate 12a. She 
returned to her nest before I even had time to reach the 
end of the thread I had attached to my camera. Indeed, 
as may be seen from the photograph, two of the young are 
only just starting to “relapse” from their threatening 
attitudes assumed at my recent proximity to the nest. The 
photograph also forms an interesting comparison in the 
appearance of a parent and her full-grown young. At this 
age, the only conspicuous difference is that almost every 
brown feather on the youngster is edged with buff. These 
edgings have a peculiarly frayed appearance, even when the 
feathers are brand new. Spring specimens would indicate 
that the buff edgings disappear by abrasion, to form the 
uniformly brown coat of the adult. 

Although the full-grown young differ imperceptibly 
from the adult in size, and although they appear well able 
to take care of themselves, they are, as a matter of fact, 
perfect babies. ‘The three represented in Plate 12b were 
quite incapable of flight, in spite of their fully-developed 
wings, and in spite of their fierce looks they were absolutely 
harmless. The only wounds which they inflicted upon 
us were caused by their already fully-developed talons, 
in their violent attempts to gain a foot-hold upon our 
wrists, when we carried them from their nest to the branch 


THE OSPREY. 31 


where they were posed. In this connection it is worthy 
of note that when the young Osprey had gained the centre 
of gravity, it would stand on the wrist as lightly as a pigeon, 
and there would be not the slightest pressure of the sharp 
claws ; it was only in the case of overbalancing or displace- 
ment, that their existence became so painfully evident. 
The toes of the bird on the left illustrate the usual perching 
attitude of Ospreys—two to the front and two to the rear. 
After taking the photograph we attempted to toss the 
youngsters back into their low nest ; but they were unable 
to regain it even although they struck quite close. So 
we were obliged after all to climb the tree and place the 
birds actually on the nest. Throughout the entire 
operations they uttered no sound. 

In the use of the blind it is always advisable, after the 
photographer has hidden himself within, to have a com- 
panion walk ostentatiously away. ‘The birds seeing him 
depart, are seemingly reassured, and will sometimes return 
to their nests at once. When working alone | have often 
been painfully impressed with the fact that Ospreys, if 
they cannot count two, can at least count one! In such 
cases it is useless to attempt to steal into the tent unseen ; 
they well know that danger is still present. Upon one 
occasion I called upon a friendly fisherman to do the 
“retreating act,” when, after hours of exasperating waiting, 
I was almost instantly rewarded with success. On the 
other hand, there are many birds less suspicious than their 
neighbours, which will after awhile readily accommodate 
themselves to the tenanted blind, although no attempt 
whatever has been made to divest it of its human 
personality. An amusing illustration of how completely 
an Osprey can come to disregard the blind and its human 
occupant, was afforded on an occasion when I was operating 
a cinematograph camera. I was desirous of arousing the 
bird into flight without leaving the blind. Starting 
with low coughs and faintly audible sounds, I was forced 
to pass through a varied category of gradually increasing 


32 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


alarm-signals, until, with my head exposed, with my 
handkerchief waving, and with loud shouts, I finally induced 
my bird (about one hundred feet away) to take wing! 

When her nest contains young, the female Osprey will 
usually be found standing like a sentinel on its edge or on a 
conspicuous perch close by (Plate 13). At the approach 
of the intruder she utters a querulous whistle; as her 
anxiety increases her complaint becomes more shrill, until 
it reaches an almost hysterical pitch. Meanwhile, she leans 
forward as though ready to take flight at any moment, 
and when convinced that it is no longer safe for her to 
remain, she unfolds her great wings (Plate 14), and with 
loud screams precipitates herself into the air (Plate 15). 
To the casual observer the birds seem to hurl themselves 
into flight in a variety of attitudes. But my cinematograph 
films reveal that the wings are extended upward to their 
fullest limit, ready for an instant down-stroke, before the 
bird’s feet leave the perch. 

In returning to her nest the Osprey will, if there is any 
air stirring, always fly up the wind. In case, by reason 
of the presence of the camera or otherwise, she decides 
not to alight, she flies straight on, then turns so as to 
make a broad oval detour, and again comes up-wind. 
The invariability of this rule is of great assistance to the 
photographer, and he can obtain broadside, head-on, or 
rear views of the bird, merely by placing his camera according 
to the direction of the wind. Mr. Cleaves’s remarkable 
picture of an Osprey in flight, as seen directly from behind 
(Plate 162), was no haphazard piece of luck. The camera 
was carefully pointed in the face of the wind and focussed 
on a handkerchief placed on an upright stick beyond the 
nest. ‘The stick was then removed, and later, as the bird 
was springing from her nest, the exposure was made. 

A suspicious Osprey will often repeat dozens of times 
the operation of approaching her nest, as if about to alight, 
hesitating in the air, and then passing on. Each time 
she swings about, describing the same detour with the 


THE OSPREY. 33 


utmost regularity. The tantalization of the photographer, 
who is eagerly awaiting in his blind the moment when 
the bird will settle, can readily be imagined! After some 
experience, it is often possible to determine from the 
position of the bird’s body and its legs, some distance 
before it reaches its nest, whether or not it is going to 
alight on that particular occasion. The same fact can 
even be conjectured from photographs. 

Of the various idiosyncrasies of the Osprey, the one 
the photographer has learned to dread the most is the 
occasion when the bird, after passing a number of times 
over her nest, alights instead on some other perch. It 
may be a telegraph pole, a rock, or the snag of a near-by 
tree; but once it has been pelecred in preference to the 


<4 


nest, it is more than likely that the photographer’s “ game 
is up.” No matter how many times the bird is aroused 
mtotught,-it will, thereaiter;nine times: out:of' ten, 
be the perch and not the nest that will end its detours. 
When once the owner of a nest has got the “ perching ”’ 
habit, the photographer may just as well pull up stakes and 
start operations on another nest. 

In the bird-world I know of no more pleasing picture 
than an Osprey settling upon her nest. As she nears its 
edge her legs are extended, and her broad wings beat the 
air rapidly as she “‘ puts on the brakes’? (Plate 160). At 
the moment of alighting she raises her wings high above 
her back, displaying their beautifully marked under- 
surfaces (Plate 17). There may be a few extra flaps as the 
bird gains her equilibrium (Plate 18), and then, unless again 
disturbed, she will stand practically motionless for hours 
(Plate 19). 

The devotion of the female Osprey to her nest is almost 
marvellous. When one realizes that all the mental anguish 
which the bird evidently undergoes in fac’ng the battery 
of the photographer, is merely for the satisfaction of standing 
near her young, he must acknowledge that we have here 
an example of wondrous parental love among birds. She 


34. THE HOME-LIFE OF 


seldom feeds them, she does not caress them—she just 
wants to be near them, and gaze upon them. 

One day I had the good fortune to make some intimate 
studies of an Osprey that was as devoted a bird-mother 
as I have ever known. She had no imposing nest to be 
proud of; it was just a mass of rubbish, scattered indis- 
criminately on the ground. But that nest contained a 
downy youngster, which was more to her than the loftiest 
and most ancient domicile along the beach! And every 
moment she was not standing at his side, she was unhappy. 
I had been attempting to photograph the owner of a tall 
nest not far away, but the bird was “cranky ” and preferred 
patronizing a stake in the water, to standing on her nest 
in front of that hideous, mysterious blind. During 
the intervals of waiting, and my attempts at urging her to 
change her mind, I observed the loving and constant 
attention of the Osprey i in the humble nest among the grass 
close by. Slinging my camera over my shoulder, I drew 
from the ground the supporting rod of my umbrella blind, 
and, without emerging, started to walk slowly over to the 
new nest. ‘The owner gazed in astonishment at the 
approaching apparition, and, as it came nearer, sprang into 
the air in terror. I continued to stalk onward, fully 
developed in the folds of the blind, until I was within 
twelve feet of the nest, when I thrust the rod once more 
into the ground and opened-up my camera. 

Round comes the bird well above the nest, suspiciously 
eyeing the blind (Plate 20). The next time she swings 
gracefully injias if about, toilsettle: (Plate® i21).7 ¢Butyno, 
there is that strange and motionless monster standing so 
close, and checking herself she hovers, kestrel-like—gazing 
apprehensively at the blind (Plate 22). Her courage fails 
her; she turns in the air and passes on (Plate 23). The 
mental struggle between the instincts of self-preservation 
and love for her offspring is almost pathetic; but’ the 
latter is destined soon to triumph, for after the usual 
wide detour, she again comes up the wind, this time deter- 


THE OSPREY. 35 


mined to settle. She reaches forward with her feet, 
checks with her broad wings the momentum of her flight, 
(Plate 24) and settles. For an instant there is the usual 
pleasing glimpse of the barred under-surface of the wings, 
before they are folded to her sides (Plate 25a). Immedi- 
ately the chick, which has been gasping in the noon-day 
heat, seeks the cooling shelter of his mother’s breast 
(Plate 25+). He wriggles his way under her, until his 
head is thrust even between her thighs, and then at last 
both birds are content. 

More than once, for photographic purposes, I was 
compelled to scare the mother into flight ; but once she 
had learned there was nothing seriously to fear in the tent, 
it was completely ignored in her haste to be once more 
beside her baby. And when my last plate was used, I 
stood and gazed in admiration on the example of heroic 
maternal devotion before me. It is doubtless common 
enough in the bird-world, but I can testify that to stand 
within twelve feet of a truly wild creature, whose majesty 
is second only to that of the Eagle, and see her shield her 
chick with all the tenderness and solicitude of a barn-yard 
fowl, arouses within me a thrill of satisfaction such as few 
ornithological experiences are capable of doing. 

On very hot days I have observed Ospreys skim close 
over the water, trailing their legs, their tail, and the tips of 
their wings on the surface. The owners of the beach 
nests especially love to make short sallies over the cooling 
element so close at hand. Upon returning to their nests, 
a few drops of moisture will occasionally fall upon the 
young; but I can hardly credit the assertion, that 
the bird deliberately cools the contents of the nest by 
“sprinkling.”* Similarly, I have sincere doubts whether 
the “grateful shade” over the young,t of the parent’s 
outstretched wings, is not more accidental than intentional. 
The Osprey when uncomfortably hot commonly allows 

* Kearton, ‘‘ With Nature and a Camera,” p. 194. 

+ cf. ‘‘ British Birds” (Mag.), I., 1907, p. 40. 


36 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


the “shoulder” to droop, and for coolness sake slightly 
extends her wings. Occasionally she holds them broadly 
outspread (Plate 26), whether alone on a perch, or with 
her young. 

The violent panting of the young birds shown in the 
nest on Plate 27, is evidence of the intense heat at the time 
the photograph was taken. The gaze of the old bird 
is directed seaward, not without cause; for the photo- 
grapher, fleeing the scorching temperature of the beach, 
has retired into the water, whence he is operating his 
thread release! The small, white object dimly visible in 
the background is doubtless Dr. Bahr, who was similarly 
engaged on another nest further up the beach, and has 
probably emerged for the purpose of changing a plate. 

It is a surprise to discover how seldom the young Ospreys 
are fed. Persons have commented, in looking at my 
large series of photographs, that in almost every instance 
where the bird is flying to her nest, she is coming empty 
footed ; and it is a fact that to observe an Osprey in the 
act of feeding her young, is an unusual occurrence. 
I think they are not fed more than twice a day, or three 
times at most; yet they are always plump and healthy. 
Naumann, with characteristic German exactness, even 
specified for the Osprey a breakfast from 8 to 9, and a 
mid-day meal between 12 and 2, the bird seldom fishing 
meantimes.* J have seen the bird catch fish at practically 
every hour of the day ; but it is an interesting coincidence 
that I have records of Ospreys bringing food to the young 
only prior to 8 a.m., around mid-day, and after 4.30 p.m. 
However, when a man is busied with photography, his 
attention and the range of his observations are necessarily 
limited. 

Early each morning, while Mr. Cleaves and I were on 
Gardiner’s Island, we could watch an Osprey feeding her 
young in a nest perched on an old, tangled vine, which 
covered a tree not far from our shanty. The incident 

* cf. Naumann (1905), V., p. 159. 


THE OSPREY. 37 


and hour are impressed upon me by Mr. Cleaves’s naive 
remark that, “‘ There are probably not many places on earth 
where one can wash up the breakfast dishes and see through 
the window at the same time an Osprey feeding her 
young!” As we seldom returned again to the shanty until 
after dark, we had no opportunity to observe at what 
other times of day food was brought to this particular nest. 

The Osprey’s method of feeding her young is to hold 
down the fish with her foot, and tear off morsels with her 
bill, which she gives to the little ones (Plate 28). ‘The 
latter, which are at all times models of good behaviour, 
quietly raise their heads and take the proffered food. ‘There 
is no rush or scramble, no vulgar assailing of the parent, 
as in the case of some Herons. Indeed, the youngsters 
often display a surprising indifference. ‘They will look 
up to greet their mother when she alights on the nest 
(Plate 29), but I have never seen them standing on tip-toe 
and waving their wings expectantly, as some artists 
would have us believe. 

The only opportunity I ever had of photographing 
at close quarters an Osprey with a fish, was on my last 
morning at Gardiner’s Island in rg10. Resolved to make 
the best of the hours intervening before our boatmen 
should arrive to take us off, we were up before daylight and 
started with our cameras just as the sun was peeping above 
the horizon. The previous night I had left my blind near 
a certain beach nest, and Mr. Cleaves accompanied me to 
the place, saw me safely inside, and by his departure did 
much to insure the prompt return of the mother bird. 
She was soon back on the nest, but at once noticed the lens 
of my camera. Turning so as to face me squarely with 
both eyes, she peered intently at the blind, moving her 
head from side to side, horizontally. Then with a cry of 
alarm she sprang into the air, and flew back and forth 
above the nest. Occasionally the two half-grown youngsters 
in the nest would arise and start to move about; but at 
the sound of their mother’s warning note they would 


38 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


crouch instantly, and remain flat and motionless until 
they felt that the cause of alarm had passed. Then they 
would raise their heads, only to lower them again at the 
next passage of the old bird over the nest. 

While I was watching these proceedings, and impatiently 
wishing for the parent to become more accommodating, 
I was delighted to see the male suddenly appear with a 
fish in his talons and fly over the nest (Plate 30a). ‘The 
morning light was still so weak, that I was unable to make 
an exposure of sufficient rapidity to insure an absolutely 
sharp picture, although the resulting photograph shows 
pretty satisfactorily the method of carrying the fish. 

He circled about, and as he again approached the nest, 
he released his hold on the fish with the hinder (in this 
case the left) talon, which was brought forward to grasp 
the nest and affect a landing (Plate 30b). I had only time 
to change my plate before the female unexpectedly appeared, 
and sweeping down, alighted beside her mate (Plate 31). 
In the meantime, there had been no attempt made to feed 
the young with the fish, which the male still held under 
his foot. 

With visions of a long series of pictures illustrating the 
feeding operation at close range, I eagerly got my camera 
in all readiness. Suddenly, without warning, both old birds 
flew from the nest. ‘The male, carrying the fish with him, 
circled about a few times and then, much to my disappoint- 
ment, alighted on a drift-log a short distance down the 
beach. Of all actions this, I knew from experience, was the 
least indicative of future success, and hope of his prompt 
return to the nest was further dissipated when I saw him 
bend over and start leisurely eating the fish. In the mean- 
time the female had completely disappeared. In vain I 
waited ; neither bird evinced the slightest interest in the 
nest. After half an hour I was obliged to depart, whereupon 
the male flew up with the fish, of which he had eaten but 
little. Although I removed the blind, he still avoided 
the nest like something bewitched, and settled again on 


THE OSPREY. 39 


his old perch. Such is an example of the unaccountable 
nervous variability of the Osprey, which one constantly 
meets in attempting to photograph this species. 

In spite of all I had learned during my visits to Gardiner’s 
Island, the important question of just how often the young 
Ospreys are fed still remained but vaguely answered. 
Largely with a view to obtaining some definite data on this 
point, I decided to encamp, on July 8th and gth, rogrt, 
for an entire twenty-four hours near a single Osprey’s nest. 
Naturally many observations beside those bearing on the 
feeding question were made; infact a somewhat detailed 
account of my intimate ‘‘ week-end ” visit to the home of 
the Ospreys may not be out of place. The locality selected 
for my operations was a region known as Atlantic Highlands, 
in New Jersey, where I had long known that Ospreys were 
abundant. The particular nest I sect forth to study was 
one described to me by a friend, who had seen it while 
motoring down the road alongside of which it is built. 
He had obtained some excellent photographs of the birds 
merely by stopping his machine and snapping his camera 
while in the car. 

If was about 5 p.m. on July 8th, when the boat on which 
I had come from New York approached her pier at Atlantic 
Highlands. There were then forty-four adult Ospreys 
flying about and perched on the series of fish nets in the lee 
of Sandy Hook. I counted eleven on one net and eight on 
another. I also saw one bird plunge from a height of about 
fifty feet and catch a fish, with which it alighted on a stake. 
It is worthy of note that this group of Ospreys lives only 
about nineteen miles from the crowded down-town 
district of New York, and their home is accessible in less 
than an hour by the fast steamers of the Sandy Hook Line. 

The nest to which I had been directed was situated 
on the outskirts of the town of Atlantic Highlands. 
I was considerably disappointed upon reaching it to find 
that it was deserted. According to a resident whom 
I questioned, it had not been inhabited since the second 


40 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


summer previously—the year my friend photographed it. 
That autumn, it seems, during the burning of some under- 
brush, a part of the nest had been damaged by fire. The 
next spring the birds returned, and spent considerable 
time about their old home, attempting to put it in order. 
But for one reason or another they were not satisfied, and 
went off in search of a fresh site. At the time of my visit 
the ruin was occupied only by a couple of pairs of House- 
Sparrows, whose nests were built in the lower sticks. 

Knowing that there must be more nests in the neigh- 
bourhood, I started off in search, and had not walked two 
hundred yards before I spied another eyrie. It was 
conspicuously perched on an old dead pine, which stood 
on top of a ridge and commanded a broad view in two 
directions. Both old birds were at home, the female being 
on the nest and the male close by on a branch of the tree. 
In no pair of Ospreys have I ever seen the sexes more 
clearly differentiated, the breast of the female being heavily 
streaked with brown, and that of the male practically pure 
white. The female, too, was noticeably larger. 

As soon as they saw me the birds started to complain, 
and when I had approached within about thirty yards they 
both took wing with loud screams. I quietly seated myself 
at the foot of a tree and remained motionless, but the birds 
were evidently very much annoyed at my presence and 
continued to fly back and forth, plainly “ bending their 
eye’ upon me each time they passed. Their outcry was 
so great that two or three Osprey neighbours appeared, to 
see what the matter was, and circled about for awhile before 
passing on. I then changed my position and hid under 
a dense oak tree, where I was well screened by the trailing 
branches. Although actually nearer to the nest than before, 
I was much less conspicuous, and the female alighted at 
once on the perch, where the male had at first been 
standing. He had by this time disappeared. 

The nest, which was about twenty-five feet from the 
ground, is illustrated in Plates 14, 15, and 26. ‘The trees 


THE OSPREY. 41 


stood in a neglected orchard, in a surprisingly public 
situation. It was surrounded by four highways, all within 
two or three hundred feet, on which were five inhabited 
houses. A little further away were dozens more houses. 
Noisy trains and electric cars could be heard in the 
immediate vicinity. Beneath the tree where I was sitting, 
empty biscuit boxes and newspapers of recent date told of 
the popularity of this spot for picnic purposes. A large 
“For Sale” sign, not a stone’s throw from the Osprey 
tree, added the final note of incongruity. A well-worn 
footpath passed close by the tree; and I think it speaks 
well for the American public that the nest had not been 
robbed. 

While it was still light I slipped out from under the far 
side of my tree, without disturbing the Osprey, and made 
a short survey of the surrounding country, in order to 
ascertain if there were other Ospreys’ nests near by, and to 
assure myself that I had selected the best for photographic 
purposes. I saw no new nests within a radius of half a 
mile or so, and a lad whom I questioned said that most 
of the birds had their homes considerably further inland. 
He said that the nest I had found was the closest of all 
to the water. His statements were supported by the 
flight of Ospreys in the air, at least two of which I saw 
carrying fish directly inland. The nearest nests he knew 
of, he said, were one in the midst of a wood, and one on a 
telegraph pole about a mile down the railway track. 

Returning to my nest about 7.15, I found that the female 
Osprey was still standing on the perch where I had left her, 
and the male was on another snag nearer the nest. Upon 
my approach he took wing, carrying off with him a fair- 
sized (headless) fish, which he had evidently caught since 
I saw him. The female remained on her perch, and 
allowed me to get under the oak tree without flying. But 
she could evidently see me through the interstices of the 
leaves, and would whistle querulously whenever I made any 
conspicuous movement during my informal supper, and 


42 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


later when I began to make preparations for a flashlight 
photograph. When I emerged from under the tree in 
order to set up my tripods, she sprang into the air with loud 
cries and made off. The work of adjusting my camera 
and flashlight apparatus, with their various threads, etc., 
in the gathering gloom, proved to be a lengthy operation, 
and all was not in readiness till 8.45. As official sundown 
occurred at 7.30, it was already dark, although a hazy moon 
enabled me to see slightly. While I was working, the female 
Osprey flew over about every twenty minutes and whistled ; 
and shortly after I had finished and retired, she flew over 
again, but did not alight. At 9.15 she returned and settled 
directly on the nest. I waited, but as there was no sign of 
the male, I set off the flash at 10 o’clock. The Osprey uttered 
a faint outcry, but did not even take wing. She complained 
more loudly as I moved about, covering up my camera, etc., 
and could evidently see me fairly plainly in the dark. 

I then rolled up in my umbrella blind and made myself 
comfortable for the night. All was quiet till 11.25, when I 
heard a slight commotion and a low greeting, and looked 
up to find that the male had alighted on his original perch. 
At first, I could plainly see his head silhouetted against 
the sky, but within a quarter of an hour it was apparently 
tucked “under his wing.” In the impressive stillness 
of the night, I lay there beside my sleeping birds, myself, 
as it were, a part of wild Nature for the time being. 

At 3.5 the first cock crew ; and it was not many minutes 
before sundry squawks and quacks announced the awakening 
of the entire barn-yard company. At 3.35 I saw the male 
Osprey stretch his great wings, in the same sleepy fashion 
as any creature stretches himself on waking of a morning. 
Then I could discern him bending forward and moving on 
his perch. I attempted to raise my glasses to my eyes, but, 
dark though it was, he evidently saw me and flew. 

Brief extracts from my notes will serve to record 
some of the many succeeding incidents of the dawn and 
the day, which space precludes reciting in full detail ;— 


THE OSPREY. 43 


3-55. Bird-chorus begins; Barn-Swallows first heard, 
Chipping Sparrows next, followed by Robins, Meadow- 
Larks, Wood-Pewees, Flickers, etc. Real chorus only 
lasts about fifteen minutes; then birds seen everywhere 
seeking food and carrying it to their young. 

4.15. Although still seventeen minutes before official 
sunrise, and very misty (I could not see more than fifty 
yards), male Osprey returns with a good-sized fish. Alights 
directly on nest with female, and leans forward out of my 
sight. Presumably feeding young, as I can occasionally 
catch a glimpse of his back moving. Female’s head never 
lowered and remains visible just above margin of nest, 
in exactly same position since first light enough to be 
distinguishable. 

4.25. Male, which is very timid, takes alarm at my slight 
movements and flies, without fish. 

4.35. Male returns and resumes feeding young (?). 
Female’s head in meantime unmoved and never out of 
sight. 

4.40. Osprey neighbour flies over, and my friends greet 
him. 

4.45. Male again becomes disturbed and leaves nest, circles 
about a bit, squealing, then disappears. Female’s head 
always just visible; appears to be watching me all the time. 

5.20. Sparrows living in Osprey’s nest have been feed- 
ing their young since about 4.15; great chirrupings and 
squabblings unobserved by Ospreys; there are apparently 
two Sparrows’ nests. 

5.25. I got up, and female complained loudly. Male 
promptly appeared, flew back and forth whistling, and then 
was gone. I went out to reconnoitre, and saw male 
standing on top of a linden tree about 150 yards away, 
where he had doubtless been during recent intervals of 
absence from nest. When he saw me he flew over, and 
circled about, complaining, then re-settled in the same tree. 

6.30. Heavy mist receding. I can now see as far as 
the bay; water very calm. Some half-dozen Ospreys 


44 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


visible fishing; apparently not many on fish stakes. 
Surprising that Ospreys still fish so much by natural method, 
when one would expect them to be spoiled by ease of 
extracting food from net enclosures. 

6.45. Osprey visitor appears; male comes and drives 
him off with great rush of wings. Visitor insists on circling 
about ; male pursues him with loud screeches. 

7.0. One young bird, about two-thirds grown, rose in 
nest, ruffled feathers, and moved about. As this was 
the first glimpse I had yet had of contents of nest, I put 
up glasses for better look. Instantly mother whistled, 
and youngster squatted out of sight. 

7.30. Female becoming used to me ; no longer complains 
when I move about under oak tree. 

7.40. Erected umbrella blind under oak tree, and walked 
out with it over my head. This was too much for Mrs. 
Osprey, and she flew—first time to-day. When next I 
saw her she was circling round with a stick in her talons 
(holding it head foremost). I set up blind about 
thirty feet from Osprey tree. She alighted on nest so 
soon after I got into blind and was fixing things, that I 
did not actually see her carry stick to nest ; but she must 
have done so. Nor did I see her arranging it in nest— 
just standing there. 

8.0 She is very suspicious of blind, and complains 
whenever I move in it. 

8.30. I happened to look up (from my breakfast !) and 
saw male standing on his favourite perch. Took photo ; 
started to change plates (very slight noise)—he was gone. 
Looked again; he was back! Not a sound from him 
meantime. While I was getting better focus, he flew again 
so precipitately that he scared off wife also. He disappeared 
but she was back within two minutes, and alighted on perch. 

9.5. Male arrived (without fish), alighted on nest and 
bent over youngster. Mother hopped down from perch, 
and all three were in the nest together. Mother spread 
wings and said, “ Ker, ker, ker” (low), and shuffled about 


THE OSPREY. 45 


nest in strange fashion. Little one raised head, moved 
about nest, and repeated mother’s note in miniature. 
Father very suspicious of tent and soon flew. 

g.20. Rushing sound over tent reveals male chasing 
his old rival—swooping down to earth from great height. 

9.30. Great commotion among Sparrows, as new pair 
trying to build are despoiled by others. 

9.45. Young bird again standing up. It is evident 
there is only one youngster. Uttering weak, squeaky 
note. Plainly uncomfortable in heat. 

10.0 Bird getting used to tent; seldom complains. 
To induce her to fly (for photographic purposes), I have 
to go out of blind and walk toward tree. 

10.25. Woman passing close at hand, with eyes on 
ground, picking wild-flowers, suddenly observes umbrella 
blind, with evidence of occupant. Beats hasty retreat 
in alarm ! 

10.50. Female Osprey lets one leg hang full length in 
front of branch, supporting herself on the other foot only. 
When male calls overhead, she looks up in very pretty 
manner, often answers, and with motion of her head, 
follows him in flight. 

11.0. Male pays nets a short visit. No fish. 

11.15. I find that when female Osprey is about to settle 
on nest after flight, she will, if I wave my arm, often alight 
on perch instead, which is more picturesque for photographs. 
When she is on nest, youngster will get close to her breast, 
and look up at her in loving fashion. Mother has no 
favourite place on nest where she prefers to stand. At 
first 1t was on opposite side of nest from where I happened 
to be (whether under oak or in blind); but now she 
is becoming almost oblivious to my presence. Both parents 
approach the nest up-wind. 

11.45. Owner of house close by, who has been watching 
me from his porch, comes over to make inquiries, thinking 
aeronaut, with balloon, has come to grief! Says nest 
has been here at least twenty-six years; been blown down 


46 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


and rebuilt several times. Says time for fish is early morn- 
ing and evening. Invites me to luncheon in his garden, 
where J can also watch birds. 

12.5. Male returns without fish, settles on nest; scared 
at blind flapping in wind—departs. 

12.50. Nine Ospreys counted soaring high in cloudless 
sky. Round and round they would go, some of them mere 
specks in the sky, crossing and recrossing each other’s 
orbits, sweeping on motionless wings with wondrous ease 
of flight. Even female could not resist fascination, and 
joined them for about five minutes. 

My new-found and hospitable friend, whose family were 
old residents of the neighbourhood, had some interesting 
Osprey anecdotes to recount to me over the open-air 
luncheon table. Some two years previously, a tree contain- 
ing an Osprey’s nest had been struck by lightning. Of 
the two young birds, one was killed, one was unhurt, and the 
mother was injured—all three being thrown to the ground. 
The mother, he said, when he attempted to capture her, 
fought “‘ like a cat,’ even ripping a buckskin glove which 
he wore. The living youngster he took home, and fed 
on “killies ”’ (small fish) and fowls’ mash, upon which it 
thrived. Aiter about a month he released. it. The 
Ospreys, he asserted, were undoubtedly decreasing in the 
face of advancing civilization. He said that in the proper 
season he has got many a good shad for dinner, merely by 
standing near the water’s edge and throwing stones or 
clapping his hands as the Ospreys flew over with their prey. 
He declared that the birds drop the fish more readily if 
scared before they have got fairly started inland, and are 
still flying low. Only the day previous to our meeting 
he had, by clapping his hands, caused an Osprey to drop 
an eel two feet long, which was found to be still wriggling. 

The afternoon with my Ospreys in the orchard was 
largely a repetition of my morning experience. The male 
returned three times up to six o’clock, but brought no fish. 
He also flew over a few other times without alighting. 


THE OSPREY. 47 


I could recognize him by a feather missing in his tail; I 
also imagined I could distinguish his voice from others. 
Throughout our acquaintance he was always much more 
timid than his wife, and took alarm on the slightest provoca- 
tion. She, on the other hand, became tamer and tamer, 
until her fearlessness was almost absurd. By five o’clock 
I had no need for the blind whatsoever, and could 
stand out in the open, camera in hand, and snap her from 
any angle I desired. I regretted the plates I had exposed 
in the morning on unsatisfactory and distant views. ‘The 
bird was not in the least “‘ moody,” like so many Gardiner’s 
Island Ospreys, and when scared off, always came back to 
her nest promptly. Even the baby was allowed to sit up 
in the nest and watch me, occasionally moving his head 
quizzically from side to side after the manner of his parent, 
without being commanded to “‘ squat.”” When I compared 
the adult bird’s present attitude of complete confidence 
with the nervous apprehension which she had exhibited 
upon my first arrival the previous evening, I rejoiced in 
this new example of what has many times been manifested 
to me in my bird-photographing experience, namely that 
wild-birds will often comprehend in a surprisingly short 
space of time, just which conditions possess an element of 
danger for them, and which do not. In other words, a 
spirit of sympathy, even though unconscious, seems some- 
how to be reciprocated by many wild creatures—a fact 
that bears a plain enough moral for us all. 

At six o’clock I “struck camp,” and leaving my friend 
to watch the Ospreys, I walked down the railway track 
to photograph the nest on the telegraph pole referred to 
by the boy the day before. No birds were near it when 
I reached the spot (except some Sparrows nesting in the 
sticks), and though I waited some time, none appeared. 
Believing the nest deserted, I exposed my last plate upon it, 
to show the situation, and started away. I had not gone 
three hundred yards before both Ospreys came to the nest 
together, the second one bearing a fish! ‘The illustration 


48 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


of the telegraph-pole nest (Plate 32a) forms an inter- 
esting companion to a picturesque nest on a fence which 
I photographed on Gardiner’s Island (Plate 325). During 
my short side-trip to and from this nest, I counted ten 
Ospreys in the air, five of which had fish. I saw two 
birds carrying fish within a few yards of each other. All 
the fish-carrying birds were flying straight inland. 

I found, when I got back about 7.15, that the male 
Osprey had returned with a fish. The female was bending 
over in the nest as if feeding, and he was standing on a low 
snag of the tree. My watcher stated that the bird had 
arrived with the evening meal about seven o’clock. 

Some hasty work was necessary for me to pack up, enjoy 
the supper which my friend insisted on providing, and 
catch the last boat for New York; so that I was unable to 
watch the Ospreys further. But these facts I had at least 
definitely recorded during my observation of this pair of 
birds: (1) Only three fish had been brought to the nest in 
twenty-five hours—one at 7 p.m. on July 7th, one at 
4.15 a.m. on July 8th, and one at 7. p.m. on July 8th. The 
facts might indicate a morning and evening feeding 
each day ; (2) The female was never absent from the nest 
long enough to feed herself; (3) The female exhibited a 
devotion for and constant attendance upon her nest and 
young, such as can exist in very few species of birds. Of 
course, the rules of one nest do not necessarily apply to 
others, and it is more than possible that my constant 
presence near this nest created an unnatural situation. 
Then, too, the fact that in this instance there was only one 
young bird, would doubtless have a bearing on the number 
of fish brought to the nest. Even with these qualifications 
the results, I think, warranted the undertaking, and may 
serve as a stepping-stone to more detailed information 
in the future. Another acquaintance which resulted from 
my visit to Atlantic Highlands was that of Mr. Chas. Bauer, 
an uneducated but warm-hearted man, who had charge of 
a small pumping-station on the edge of the old orchard 


WHE OSPREY. 49 


where the Ospreys lived. Like my friend of the morning, 
he came during the afternoon to investigate the remarkable, 
domed excrescence which had appeared on the surface 
of the earth since the previous day. After the necessary 
explanation, he expressed great interest in my work; and, 
having learned that I proposed to write a book on the 
Osprey, he later sent me the following amusing summary 
of his knowledge of the bird. He stated that it was compiled 
with the assistance of his friend, Captain Roger Moon, 
“an old sailor and fisherman.” I append the account 
in exactly the picturesque form and language in which it 
was received by me :— 

“The Osprey or better known as Fish hawk the Male 
Bird comes Back first in the spring about March 25 if it 
is nor too Cold. he will begin to repair his nest about a 
week later the She bird comes, and both work together 
and love One another on the Nest. They lay 3 to 4 Eggs 
but they will only breed 2 whatever they do with the other 
eggs nobody knowes. when they go off in October they 
come back alone in the Spring wether they are the Old pair 
or the Young I do not know. As soon as the Egg is laid 
- there will always be one of Birds on the nest to watch it 
as Mr. Crow likes to get the eggs. When she sets on her 
Eggs, the Male furnishes her food but mostly Every other 
Morning she goes to have her bath and then the Old man 
will sit on the Eggs to keep them warm until she comes 
back she sometimes hunts her breakfast but very seldom. 
she hurrys home after her Bath. As if she was afraid that 
the Old man did nor under stand the business as well as 
her. ‘hen he goes down the Bay and gets her breakfast 
while she sits on the F.ggs he pickes the fish apart so that 
she can eat it handy. After the young ones are able to 
fly then the training begins. ‘The Old ones with a fish 
fly all arond the nest high in the Air and holler while the 
young ones look on and hunger for it. by and by they will 
follow the Old ones down the bay see how it is done and 
strike out for themselfs they leave us about October first. 


50 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


They Say they go south. but where in the South We dont 
know. the tide has nothing to do with the hawk their 
time is usually Morning and Evenings. my Friend tells 
me their are not half as many Ospreys as their was 40 
years ago. ‘The Osprey always looks for a dead tree and if 
they cant find one they will build on top of any tree that 
gives them room for their nest but it will kill the tree in 2 
years time.” 

This quaint life-history is distinctly interesting, though 
manifestly inaccurate in parts, such as that relating to the 
number of young reared. Even this point, however, gives 
evidence of some observation. Tor I have myself remarked 
on the number of infertile eggs discovered in the nests 
on Gardiner’s Island, and it is certainly a fact that a con- 
siderable percentage of Osprey’s eggs never reach maturity. 
Whether the proportion is unusually great in the case of 
the Osprey I would not undertake to say, but it is my 
impression that, as a family, the Raptores more than any 
other birds, are unsuccessful in hatching all their eggs. 
Observations of others corroborate Mr. Bauer’s assertions 
relative to the males preceding the females on migration,* 
and relative to the male sharing in the duty of incubation 
and bringing food to his mate on her nest.t 

I have never personally observed an Osprey indulging 
in a bath, other than the necessary immersion incident 
to capturing her prey, and I rather suspect that Mr. Bauer 
may have got his terms mixed. Nevertheless, that Ospreys 
do occasionally enjoy a genuine bath is attested by the 
following interesting note made by Mr. Cleaves, while on 
Gardiner’s Island : *‘ Creeping up to the edge of Tobaccolot 
Pond, I spied some large birds standing in the water on the 
opposite side. ‘Through my glasses I identified them at 
once as Fish-Hawks, and soon saw that they were bathing. 
In all I counted nine Hawks standing in water up to their 
Dollies in one place there were five together. The birds 


* cf. Audubon, * Birds of America” (ed. 1840), I., p. 66; and ‘‘ Auk,” IX., 
1892, p. 318. 
+ id., b., p. 67; and Fisher, ‘* Hawks and Owls of the United States,” p. 131. 


THE OSPREY. SI 


dipped their heads in and splashed their wings vigorously ; 
then they stood and preened their feathers for some 
minutes. One bird walked about in the most absurdly 
clumsy manner, apparently in order to find water of proper 
depth.” 

The flashlight photograph which I attempted at Atlantic 
Highlands proved not to be a success. The reason, as | 
feared at the time, was that the sleeping bird on the nest 
was invisible in the photograph, by reason of the angle 
between the camera on the ground and the nest in the 
tree-top. Another flashlight experiment, which I made 
on Gardiner’s Island, was similarly disappointing, because 
the tall branch upon which the bird decided to perch 
proved to be beyond the edge of the picture. In both 
cases, however, the practical disregard by the Osprey of 
the magnesium discharge (though necessarily a heavy one) 
was quite surprising. Perhaps they mistook it for a flash of 
lightning! At Atlantic Highlands as related, the bird did 
not even leave her nest ; and at Gardiner’s Island, of some 
half-dozen Ospreys perching within a couple of hundred 
feet, only my particular bird took wing, and she merely 
circled about and alighted again almost at once. [ am 
convinced that Ospreys can see with considerable distinct- 
ness in the dark. I have even observed them flying with 
fish in the dusk, long after it would be supposed they could 
see to hunt. Whatever time of night one passes their 
haunts, one will be greeted with the usual whistles and 
complaints, and catch sight of the dim forms of the birds 
passing to and fro, apparently flying and alighting at will. 

When the Osprey chicks are still very young, their mother 
broods them at night much as she might incubate eggs— 
sitting close and with wings drawn down. When they 
are well grown she merely roosts upon the edge of the nest, 
or upon a branch close by. We observed that in the beach 
nests the young birds, which during the heat of the day find 
the greatest coolness about the margin of the nest, prefer, 
for the opposite reason, to huddle at night in a warm 


52 THE HOME-LIFE OF 


little group at the centre. As definitely observed at 
Atlantic Highlands, the male comes home to his nest to 
spend the night. In a colony like Gardiner’s Island it is a 
pleasing experience to observe after nightfall dozens of old 
Ospreys guarding their nests, each on some gaunt snag 
silhouetted against the sky. 

The life and training of young Ospreys after they leave 
the nest, I have unfortunately had little opportunity to 
observe. My visits to Gardiner’s Island have all occurred 
before any of the young were actually on the wing, although 
already many of them appeared to be fully fledged. In 
July I have seen full-grown youngsters standing on their 
nests, and beating their wings in anticipation of the new 
power that is soon to be theirs. Nevertheless, Nuttall 
declares that they are sometimes so loath to make a start 
in the world, that they have to be forcibly driven from 
the nest by their parents.* 

Authorities seem to agree that the young Osprey’s 
life in the nest covers a period of five or six weeks.t 
On August 13th, 1911, I was unable to find any young 
still remaining in some half-dozen nests which I visited 
in New Jersey, especially to enlighten myself on this 
point. Observations made at that time indicate that 
the birds will, after fishing, bear their catch as much 
as three of four miles from the water, in order to devour 
it on the bed of the empty nest. I also believe the 
entire family return to the neighbourhood of their old 
homes to roost. 

Once I observed a young Osprey perched on a bough 
overhanging a lake-side, and watching with the keenest 
interest his mother, as she quartered the surface of the 
water, intent on fishing Whenever the old bird passed, 
the youngster would call in shrill whistled tones, just 
as any hungry baby-bird pesters its parent, whether or 
not the latter has food. Three days later 1 happened to 


* Birds of the United States and Canada ” (ed. 1903), p. 30. 
+ cf. Chapman, ‘‘ Camps and Cruises of an Ornithologist,” p. 52. 


THE OSPREY. 53 


visit the same spot, and saw what was perhaps the same 
young Osprey, himself with a fish. 

Wonderful as are the achievements of all young birds 
in the matter of flight and the selection of their varied 
food, there is, to my mind, none more truly worthy of 
admiration than the first plunge of a young Osprey for a 
fish. Yet, as in all the other instances, the mysterious 
dictates of instinct, assisted of course by watching the 
parents, alone are responsible. Mr. Baynes’s two tame 
Ospreys, which were taken from their nest and reared by 
hand, started to fish as soon as they were able to fly. 
Referring to the earliest effort of one of his birds he writes : * 
“‘ His tactics were similar to those employed by old and 
experienced Ospreys, but the execution was clumsy. It 
was the attempt of a tyro, and of course the fish escaped. 
But in a few days both Hawks became expert.” 

Similarly, Mr. C. W. Beebe tells of a young Osprey 
which was brought as a nestling to the New York Zoological 
Park: t ‘ One day a fish was thrown beyond the line of 
cavernous-mouthed Pelicans in the great outdoor flying 
cage, and the young Osprey swooped at it and fell headlong 
into the water. He half kicked, half flapped his way to 
shore, and crawled out disappointed and bedraggled. ‘The 
sight of the fish was just the stimulus needed to give an 
impetus to an instinct, latent but trembling for expression. 
After the first blind yielding to impulse, experience entered 
in as guide and instructor, and a few more attempts 
made this young Osprey master of his art.” 

In his famous ‘‘ American Ornithology,” Wilson records 
seeing a young Osprey meet its parent in the air and receive 
from him the fish he carried in his claws. This proceeding 
is probably unusual, however, and has not been noted 
by such observers as I have questioned. Wilson is also 
authority for the statement, widely copied but not con- 
firmed by some writers at least, that Ospreys, before they 


* Zoological Society Bulletin,” No. 11, 1903, p, 120. 
¢ ‘*Scribner’s Magazine,” XLI,, 1907, p. 704. 


54 THE HOME-LIFE OF THE OSPREY. 


leave for the south in the autumn, “regularly” repair 
their nests, to fortify them against the violence of the 
winter storms. In the life of all birds there are many 
facts which only the combined observations of many 
workers can accurately ascertain. I shall hope to spend 
many more happy field-days with my friends the Ospreys. 
Although in some instances ‘‘ familiarity breeds contempt,” 
in the case of the Osprey this can never be true. ‘There 
is a nobility and dignity about this bird, an industry and 
inoffensiveness of life, a tender affection for its mate and 
young, that can only bring increasing admiration with 
acquaintance. 


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