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Journal Maryland

for the birds

Last summer Walker and one of his buddies helped me install a new nesting platform at the end of the dock. We used a large, plastic and metal shipping pallet, braced with 2x4s and secured with long screws and rope.

All fall and winter the new platform sat empty, waiting for a new nesting season to come around. Winds gusted through the pallet. Waves battered the piling. Cold gripped the plastic and wood and metal, causing them to creak and groan as they contracted at different rates.

And still it held until finally, about a month ago, the ospreys returned and began building a new nest atop the platform.

We watched in nervous anticipation, ever afraid that the next storm would blow away their nest as had happened year after year with the previous platform. But it held. The birds twisted their sticks through the crossbars of the pallet, anchoring them securely and building the nest ever higher. As late winter storms gave way to spring winds, the nest remained firmly fixed to the platform.

And now we have new neighbors. They are a bit noisy and have a habit of leaving scraps of sushi scattered on the dock, but they are quite entertaining and seem to be ready to settle down and have a family.

I’m trying to catch a couple more videos of the birds flying around the nest, and then I’ll post the full construction and results video to YouTube in a few days.

Categories
Journal Maryland

Settling In

It’s been a helluva month.

We’ve spent the last few weeks closing up business in Virginia. Packing, cleaning, doing what we could to see friends and family, within reason given the ongoing pandemic and a few spats which emerged when I announced that I was heading north. The whole process was complicated by my car accident, which has left the truck sitting in a repair lot for a month

We’re trying hard to help the kids feel settled, even as we try to find our pace with the new normal. They’re registered for Scouts and have already gone camping once. They have a lair in the basement where they can play video games and watch TV without drawing agro from adults for giggling with their friends on voice chat or watching the same talking dog movies again and again and again and again. We’re currently debating whether Girlchild gets to live in the basement, a fate which literally gives her grandmother shivers at the thought of waking up with a spider cricket on her head, or has to share space with her brother. If Boychild could choose, he would sleep on the daybed in his grandmother’s room, but we aren’t giving him the choice.

I’m settling in, slowly.

Moving has been on my wishlist for years. I love my friends in Tidewater, but the utterly flat suburban sprawl drained a little bit more of my soul with each indistinct Virginia Beach Norfolk Chesapeake Portsmouth intersection. My favorite place in all of Tidewater was Pipsico Scout Reservation, a Scout camp perched on the southern cliffs of the James River. With paths that meandered from the heights of the cliffs down to the tangled cypress swamps, it was a dynamic landscape filled with good memories.

Now I’m in a new landscape, one that is a good bit more varied. We are still living in a swamp, but it’s one which is stable enough for houses to have basements and where we can reach rolling, rocky foothills within twenty minutes.

Girlchild has already declared that she wants to volunteer at the local nature center. Boychild is beginning to make friends at Scouts. We’re still finding our footing up here, and likely will be until James finishes his latest round of business travel and we settle into a rhythm of visiting one another, but things are finally beginning to look up and slow down after nearly two years of life moving too fast.

I’m looking forward to watching the ospreys hatch their eggs off the dock, repairing the roof of The Mothership, and taking the family for weekend camping trips in the mountains.

It’s time to breathe again.