The Osprey Family & Beta Bird
By John B. Spohrer, Jr. Member: Florida Outdoor Writers Association
8/24/98
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By John B. Spohrer, Jr.
Member: Florida Outdoor Writers Association
8/24/98
I confess that I am not a "birder" and have no life list. I'm just an old-fashioned bird watcher, endlessly fascinated with the behavior of our feathered neighbors. And, since my major sport is angling, my favorite birds to watch are those that make their living fishing.
I walk the same stretch of bay near the boat basin, in the center of the island, with my two Rhodesian Ridgebacks almost every morning where we observe great blue herons, night herons, king fishers, bald eagles and, my favorite, osprey.
This year there was one eagle nest in this area that apparently raised one chick that was fledged and gone near the end of April. That seems a bit early but we had a mild winter.
There were three osprey nests in the area we walk but only one produced young to maturity. An eagle ate the young in one nest and that may be what happened to the other, but I saw no direct evidence.
By the end of May the two little ospreys could be seen poking their heads above the nest. During this time the parents never left them alone, which is probably why they survived.
By the end of June the babies were big enough to observe and it became obvious which was the alpha baby and which the beta. I'm not sure how it was determined in the nest, but the one baby always got to eat first and got noticeably bigger, faster.
When a parent bird would come to the nest with food they would not feed the babies like a robin dropping a worm into a demanding mouth. Instead, the adult would land and start eating in the nest and the babies would grab what they could get. Always the adult and the alpha baby ate their fill while the poor beta bird protested with loud shrieks and bounced around behind the two feeding birds... always to no avail. Beta baby got the scraps.
Fortunately there were plenty of mullet in the bay this year (aided no doubt by the netting restrictions) and both the babies reached flying age. By the end of July they were spreading their wings, hopping up and down in the nest as they tested air currents.
Then one day in the first of August when I wasn't watching (wouldn't you know it) they took their first flights. Not a moment too soon. The next week the nest was blown down in a gale. And, even though they were flying, that was a serious blow to their continued survival.
They could fly but they were far from proficient hunters. Normally, adult osprey feed their young in the nest for some weeks after they are flying until they can learn the difficult tasks of diving and snatching fish from the water. But these two youngsters didn't have that advantage.
It was a little heart rending to watch what happened. Although the fledglings were as big as their parents, they could easily be identified by their behavior. When an adult bird circled with a fish in its talons, the young would droop their wings and bow their heads as they begged for food with piercing cries. But with the nest gone there didn't seem to be any mechanism for the adults to feed the young birds. The youngsters' attempts at hunting were sadly inept. They grew noticeably thinner and I expected both to weaken and die. My daily walk became a dread because of what I feared to find.
But they did not die. And finally I saw one of the youngsters make a catch. It wasn't much, looked like a pinfish, but it was food.
Now, at the end of August, I can observe the whole family hunting with expertise... even beta bird who has now filled out so that I cannot distinguish between the siblings.
My early morning amble is again a time of pleasure. I observe these fellow fishers soar and dive and call in high shrieks to each other as they fatten on their hunting skills. As I watch them I feel a deep admiration and thankfulness that I share their world. Plus, there is another emotion that took me a little longer to identify. I feel a sense of pride... especially for beta bird.
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