My last story involved a nest of Blackpoll Warblers whose nestlings did not survive to fledge. I wanted to have this story be about two nests I observed that same summer who had spectacular survivals. Because there is a lot to tell about each family, I will divide it into two segments.
This first story is about an Osprey nest located atop an A T & T tower near the Capitol Raceway, west of the Parks highway, at mile 75. It is a fairly recent nest, having been there only a few years. I noticed it three years ago, and pull off the observe its progress whenever I make a trip to Wasilla. I noted this year that someone had applied spikes to the horizontal bars atop the tower, no doubt to dissuade the birds from building their nest there. However, the birds do not use the horizontal bars. Rather, they perch on the tall vertical poles at each corner, which gives them the best lookout in all directions. The nest was built in the center of the tower, where there were no spikes. The birds drop down onto the nest from the poles. So whomever erected all those spikes went to a lot of trouble for nothing.
Anyway…the last two years I’ve observed the nest, I’ve noticed that an offspring from the previous year has returned with the two adults and set about helping them with that year’s youngsters. I’ve noticed this at another nest in Trapper Creek, and read that this is fairly common amongst Ospreys. The yearling will stay through the whole season, guarding the nest while the parents take turns sitting on the eggs and then the hatchlings. When a parent brings in food, the yearling will come in to the nest and help tear the food into little pieces and feed it to the nestlings, along with the parents.
Ospreys usually raise two offspring each nesting season, and this pair was no exception. They had raised two to fledge each year I had observed them. I was amazed they had chosen this location, even though it is close to a lake, as the Raceway holds races on the weekends through the summer and it is exceptionally noisy when the cars are on the track. It disturbs the birds, for I had been there when races are underway, and the birds are repeatedly flying from the nest and calling when the track is busy. Yet they return there each year, knowing what is coming, and not abandoning the nest when the first races start.
I arrived on May 26th, en route to Wasilla, and parked on the dirt road below the nest as usual to observe the Ospreys for awhile before heading on in to do my shopping. It was sunny and peaceful, as it was not a race day. One parent was sitting on the nest and the yearling was on a pole nearby. After awhile the second parent came winging in. It wasn’t carrying food, but it did have a small piece of nesting material clutched in its left foot. It quite deliberately and carefully landed on top on the yearling, who crouched in a vertical position as the adult touched down on its back. Neither bird made a sound, and the adult balanced on the yearling’s back for several long seconds before taking off and flying straight ahead of it and on down into the nest. There it left the nesting material, for when it flew off from the nest in about ten minutes, there was nothing in its feet. The yearling had straightened into its usual more somewhat vertical position after the adult left its back, and stood watching it fly away from the nest. I had not witnessed this behavior before, and am not clear just what this was all about.
When I heard about the Sockeye fire, I worried about the Ospreys, for their nest was in the thick of the wildfire. I knew the tower itself stood higher than the surrounding trees, but I was concerned that the smoke and the commotion of the firefighters, water, helicopters, etc, would cause the birds to abandon the nest. They are sensitive to commotion, and often would call and take flight when I would get out of my car, even though I parked far from the base of the nest and was quiet and careful. I knew the fire would test the birds’ instincts to stay with their young.
It was a week after the fire had been put out that I was able to make a trip to Wasilla. I pulled off at the nest site with a heavy heart. The forest opposite the nest was a blackened wreck, and evidence that the firefighters had been working hard to stop the fire was at the turnoff to the road in piled up stumps and felled trees. The fire had been stopped from crossing the road, and the trees on the north side of the road were untouched, as was the tower. To my relief, the Ospreys were still at the nest. One adult was on the nest, and the yearling was on a pole. After awhile the second adult came winging in from the lake. I could imagine how terrified the birds must have been through the ordeal of the fire, and I was so pleased they had found the courage to stay and protect their young.
On August 2nd I observed the nest for almost an hour and was getting ready to leave when something interesting occurred. When I arrived,the female had been sitting on the nest, with the yearling on a pole. The yearling took flight after awhile, heading for the lake. The yearling didn’t return, and the second adult hadn’t arrived, so I decided to head on home. Just as I was about to leave, here came the second adult. I turned off the engine and swung up the binoculars again. The second adult did not have any food in its talons. It flew into the nest and deliberately pushed the female off. She reluctantly took flight and the male settled in. She circled three times, calling all the while. Then, as if to say that she wanted the male to go bring in some food, she flew in and pushed the male off the nest and chased him away. As he circled the tower, she dove at him, calling. She clearly was not letting him back near the nest. After he flew back in the direction of the lake, the female landed on one of the poles. After a few minutes she dropped on down to the nest and settled herself. It looked to me like she wanted him to bring in food and had sent him back out to do so.
On September 6th the two offspring were sitting on poles when I arrived at the nest. Shortly after I began watching through binoculars, here came their parents and the yearling, flying in from the west, circling and calling. The yearling headed back west, disappearing from my view. The parents landed on the other two poles above the nest. Excitement seemed to be in the air. It was evening and the sky was clear of clouds. The female launched and flew into the west. A nestling soon launched, followed closely by its sibling. They both called loudly in their high-pitched voices. Dad soon launched, circling higher as the offspring flew in large circles and headed west after their mother. Dad circled higher and higher and then followed his family. I wondered if I had just watched the two nestlings take their first flight. I also wondered if they had left the nest to head off into their new lives. I was happy for their new-found freedom, but also a little sad to think I may not see them again until next spring.
It was a few days later that I was again making a trip to the Valley. I stopped at the nest, but there was no sign of the birds. I stayed only briefly, saying a quiet farewell to the family.
Two days later I passed by the nest and did a double-take; Ospreys were on the poles above the nest! It was raining and I hadn’t brought my camera. I pulled up to my usual observation spot and glassed the birds-sure enough, it was dad and the two offspring. They weren’t quite ready to head off into their new lives just yet.
I kept hoping to get a photo of one of the adults bringing in food, and finally, on September 16th, after I had been observing the nest for about 40 minutes, here came dad with a fine big salmon. I could hear the two offspring calling from the nest, and the yearling was flying, circling the nest while mom called as she made way for dad on the nest.
A couple of days after that, I stopped in at the nest, but all was quiet. No sign of the family. On my way back from Wasilla, I stopped again, but still no sign. I had a feeling they had really left. It was time for their migration Outside to begin. I thought about the long journey ahead of them and wished them well. The parents had certainly proved their loyalty to their offspring through the ordeal of the fire, and I knew they would take care of them during the migration and the coming winter. Eventually the offspring would strike out on their own, as would the yearling. Perhaps one of the youngsters from this year would return with the parents next spring to help out with next years’ nestlings. These were a pair of tough, dedicated adults who had faced big challenges and come through against the odds. They were passing on extraordinary genes to their offspring, and I am proud of them.
My next story will be of a remarkable eagle nest in Wasilla I was honored to observe through the summer of 2015.
Story and photos by Robin Song
