When I walked towards the house after closing up the chicken coop on Saturday evening, I automatically glanced up at the osprey nest.
No one was in it. No one was expected until Monday or Tuesday.
If anyone returned this spring at all.
After last August's massacre of the three babies, there was no way to predict if any osprey would return to this nest. I dreaded either decision, to return or abandon, because life without our osprey neighbours is inconceivable, yet the eagles pose a real threat and I certainly can't go through that again this summer.
After I'd put the eggs in the fridge and flipped on the kettle, my mother headed out the door for a quick walk.
"There's a bird in the nest," she came back in to announce.
The decision made, and I can't say I'm sorry to see that wonderful, familiar silhouette perched on top of the nest. At sunset. The night before a snowstorm yet a much nicer welcome than last April, when the river was frozen over and the ground covered in four feet of snow.
A much better omen for this season, let's say.
Welcome back, friend. It's good to see you. We've got your back.
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