Oh, My Heart

So I wrote what I wrote yesterday. It was good and true. My heart was happy, under the circumstances.
This morning, when I stepped out the door about nine o'clock to do the hens, I glanced at the osprey nest -- it's a habit of 12 years -- and there, with the sun shining on its white chest, sat an osprey.
By the time I grabbed my phone, and got the camera zoomed, it flew off the nest. It flew south, or upriver, if you will.

Although my husband called out, "Hey, buddy, welcome back," I'm not sure if this is one of "our" ospreys. How can it be? No babies survived the past two summers, and both males disappeared. There are ospreys nesting and producing offspring in other places around us so perhaps this is a new osprey looking for a new home. It may not mate this year; it may just claim the nest, just as a pair did in July 2008.
Who knows? This is the latest date, April 18, that the first osprey has ever returned. So we'll see if my theory is right. Or tomorrow I'll be writing a post about how another osprey showed up on Saturday and they've mated already!
Whatever - this means we now have work to do because obviously, this nest will not be abandoned. We have to find trout for stocking our pond and build another perch for them to sit on near the pond. I told Dwayne to put enough trout in that pond we could walk across it on the fish! I just need to protect and save these birds. If they are going insist on nesting here -- oh, my heart, they keep coming back to us -- then we have to help them.

By the way, I did send an email to the Department of Lands and Forests the week before Easter. I explained what happened to the ospreys the past two summers, and shared our theory as to what made the males disappear. So the local enforcement officers will be inspecting trout ponds to make sure they are set up to discourage birds fishing. All migratory birds are protected, and "nuisance birds" - ie: birds fishing out of a trout pond -- cannot be shot without a permit from the department.

Anyway...an osprey sat on the nest. That's all that happened so far. Oh, my heart.

Once the osprey was out of sight, I filled my bucket and headed out to the chicken coop.
For the first time in 12 years, I got pooped on. Right in my hair. Dwayne heard my screech, and wasn't terribly sympathetic when he realized I hadn't actually cut off a finger.
And holy crap, chicken poop stinks. It just -- it's -- I can't -- once the smell is in your nose --
Shelagh, I know you are laughing right now. I hope you pee yourself.

So in the past four days, a publisher requested the full manuscript of my novel, an osprey showed up in the nest, and a chicken pooped on my.
This is either the best week of my life, or everything is just becoming a shit show.