Hi! This is me, Dylan. I’m borrowing mom’s laptop. She is cooking in the kitchen and this is my chance to tell you about my recent adventures. But I have to be brief. I’ll need to go and help mom soon. You see, we have a well-developed division of labor. I have the floor level duty and mom has the stove level duty when we’re cooking together. That usually works very well. Provided she gives me enough to do. Oh, were was I?
Okay, I’ll get to the point. We have gone to the dog park a lot, usually in the evenings around sunset time. I get to meet my friends and mom hers. The latter includes both humans and the birds at the salt marsh. It’s been very hot lately and that is a slight problem. Lots of hanging around the water cooler. And that translates into late night bathroom breaks. Not particularly popular if mom has already changed to her pajamas. You see, I love running around with my friends and I get thirsty. We all do, all the time. Like Eli and Bently here.
I have to admit the water cooler gossip is always interesting. No, I’m not going into details. What happens at the dog park stays at the dog park. But I can tell you that we compare notes. And we share secrets. Like fail-safe tactics to establish a satisfactory treat schedule, how to train your human, and other important stuff like that.
Or how to stay at the park until dark. A skill perfected by my friend Saki.
And we speculate quite a bit. Particularly about our parents’ trips. What they might be doing when they leave us for a day or two. Sometimes we can smell that they have seen other dogs, but most often these trips seem to be fairly innocent. Although they are not fun. Not for us.
After running around at the dog park, I let mom run around in the park too. That usually means walking around the marsh. And making frequent stops.
Oh, there’s a bird, she would say. What that actually means is ‘sit’. And I usually do.
Although it gets a bit tough when there’s a duck couple swimming close to the shore. I could easily go fetch them. For better close-ups, of course.
We always end up at the Osprey nest. And if feeding is going on, we’ll stay there for quite a while. What about my after-walk-snack?
And just when I think we’ll be heading for the bay side, mom discovers another bird. Oh, Miss Rosa is sleeping, she says, come, we need to get a picture. We? I don’t get it, we have already seen this pink bird one time too many.
When we finally get to the bay side, there can be some surprises. Like when I discovered that daddy Osprey, whom I’d just seen at the nest, was suddenly sleeping at the sailing center. How did he get there faster than I can run? That’s a real mystery.
But I actually like sitting on the seawall watching the pelicans. They sit, swim and fly. And then they sit again. What a circus.
And sometimes we see other birds as well. They are looking for supper just before the restaurant is set to close. Hello, the sun is going down!
Or they decide to fly away when they see me at the seawall. And then we’ll finally go home.
Oh, I almost forgot! Mom told me the other day that I get to do the lottery again. The Osprey chick deserves a beautiful name. But you have to help me. You need to propose names for the Osprey girl – an evanescent opportunity to have an Osprey named by you flying the skies for years to come.
Once we have your proposals, mom will write the names on small pieces of paper, wrap them around my biscuits and put them all in a hat. And I get to pick the winner! Yummy! The winner can choose to get mom’s first photo book from 2015…
…OR a beach towel of their choosing from mom’s art shop. I can tell you they are really soft. I’m not supposed to know, but I tried one the other day. I had wet paws after coming in from the rain. What’s a dog to do but dry his paws in a soft towel?
I hope you’ll come up with a great name proposal (one please) and include it in your comments. I’ll get my special biscuit next Wednesday, May 31. As you may have guessed, I’m hoping to eat all of them, eventually. I’m ready for this task of great importance.
Take care now and be good. Love, Dylan.
Her ‘necklace’ is very much like Sandy’s. So it’s a girl. Again. In the last few years Sandy and Stanley have produced mostly girls: one girl in 2014, two girls and one boy in 2015 and one girl in 2016.
She did this repeatedly. She did not go anywhere, just flew around the nest so the chick could see her. And the chick watched intently. Even flexed her wings a few times.
I was impressed by Sandy’s home schooling skills. Then my camera battery warning light began blinking. I started to change the battery. And…like so often previously, that’s when Stanley appeared. My camera’s bottom wide open, I watched him zoom in, leave the fish to Sandy and leave. Sandy divided it into two pieces and they started to eat.
The chick was hungry and wanted more. Or maybe her piece was smaller.
In any case, after Sandy had eaten enough, she started to feed the chick.
Perhaps Sandy made a point right there. If you’re a baby and don’t want to learn to fly, I’m going to feed you like a baby. Or maybe that’s just my speculation. In any case, the chick’s recovery seems to be going quite well. The intensive flight preparation classes should get her airborne shortly.
And a hybrid Mottled Duck, whose friend put up quite a show for me. Or maybe I should say gave me a free preening lesson. If you have the time to actually be at the salt marsh, and need a smile, please watch the short video below.
At the far end of the marsh, the Clown (Reddish Egret) sported his red, spiked up hair do. He was busy chasing a Great Egret away from his fishing camp. The latter obliged.
Just when I was leaving the marsh, I spotted a Blue Jay. He didn’t care to pose for a portrait, but showcased the gorgeous colors on his back.
When I arrived home, a tiny Mockingbird baby was practicing her songs on the garage roof. Her repertoire was not yet well developed, but her obvious joy of just being alive was enough to give me a big smile – and something to ponder.
Thank you for being here. Please stay tuned…the now traditional chick naming lottery is starting next week. Dylan will take care of it, just like 
We were on a cruise outside St. Augustine last weekend. It is a beautiful historic city, founded in 1565, and lays the claim on being the oldest city in the US. So much excitement on land and on the water. Like dolphins swimming by.
And the seven year old knows an Osprey when she sees one. So proud of her.
We saw manmade birds too. Some were coming to old age already, but still flying high.
And the shores were sprinkled with historic buildings, like the Castillo de San Marcos from 1695, the colorful Flagler college with buildings from 1888 and the Lighthouse, which has a long history going back to early 1800’s.
And, as usual, I did a ‘bird walk’ with the seven year old (and Dylan) every morning around their neighborhood. This time we only spotted a lonely Canada Goose, and speculated on where the usual birds might have gone.
She also speculated on my age. I told her I was quite old being her farmor (grandma in Swedish). I told her my age was a secret, but she could guess. I asked her to write my age on her writing tablet. She wrote…20. She smiled and looked at me for confirmation. I laughed and said she was kind. No wonder I was ‘carded’ by a young man last year buying wine at a local store 😀
Coming home at sunset time earlier this week, Dylan and I took a walk though the salt marsh – to and from the dog park. He had to see his friends. And I had to check on the Osprey nest. From afar, we could see Mama Sandy on the perch, but the chicks were laying low. I assumed Papa Stanley was fetching dinner.
We spotted a few friends at this late hour. Mr. Moorhen was around…talking to himself.
And the Mottled Duck couple was getting some supper.
The Mayor was not at home. We decided to check the bay side on our way home. And right away, we spotted a Yellow-Crowned Night Heron …for the first time ever fishing on the bay.
And then I saw a familiar figure flying high above the bay, scanning for dinner for his family. That was Papa Stanley.
I followed him for about 10 minutes while Dylan sat patiently (he got a treat). I saw Stanley dive for fish twice. The Laughing Gull just below the seawall cheered on him vigorously. But unfortunately he didn’t catch a fish.
Stanley was close to the opposite shore so my pictures of his dive in the dim light are very soft.
As I arrived at the nest, I could hear that the babies have learned to talk while I was away. They were singing the familiar song ‘bring me fish, daddy’ – and soon Stanley obliged.
He had eaten the head and brought the rest to Sandy. She started feeding the chicks. Two chicks. So now I prefer to think that I suffered a bout of vivid imagination when I thought I saw three chicks that day over two weeks ago.
With the sun right in my face, I watched the feeding for a while and then walked around to see who else might be at home. And I saw a whole bunch of friends at this lunch hour. The Tri-colored Heron was obviously interested in the Ibis flying overhead.
The Reddish Egret, the Clown, was performing his fishing dance and puffing up his red feathers.
The Ibis was alone with his thoughts.
And the Little Blue Heron appeared bluer than ever. Yet upbeat.
And…surprise! The Yellow-Crowned Night Heron was out and about in bright daylight.
When I walked home, I decided to take a few pictures of the Osprey nest from the street very far away…to see the chicks when the perspective flattens and almost the whole nest is visible. And they did not disappoint.
They were talking to each other and flexing their little wings. I am happy that both of them are about the same size…about five weeks old now. In 3-4 weeks they will be fledging…and we will be able to tell whether they are boys or girls.
I waited. No parent came back. And suddenly the first-born got very anxious, flexed its tiny featherless wings and screamed from the bottom of its lungs. Ma-ma! The second-born lifted up its head as well. They were alarmed.
Then, after several minutes, one of the parents landed on the perch. It was impossible to tell which one. I assumed it was Papa Stanley because Mama Sandy would have landed in the nest. All kinds of thoughts flew through my mind on what might have happened to Sandy. You see, normally she would not leave the chicks alone before they are six weeks old, and these chicks were hardly three weeks old last Tuesday.
Right after finishing my dinner I checked on the nest again. Someone was feeding the chicks! It looked like Sandy. And – 
But I couldn’t be sure it was Sandy until I saw her much closer – from the ground. So out we went, Dylan and I. He knew his mom was on a mission and sat down every time I took pictures.
It was late in the day, almost 7:30 p.m., but I was able to confirm Sandy was back with her chicks. That was a great relief.
Perhaps Sandy had gotten tired of waiting for dinner and had decided to go fishing herself. For a change. And in the process almost gave me a heart attack.
And the Mayor was there patrolling the waters, as always.
And just before the darkness fell, I spotted a Red-winged Backbird. I know he is nesting at the marsh right now, just like last year.
On the bay side, walking back home, we saw a Willet utilizing the low tide to get herself some supper.
Yesterday morning I took a quick walk around the marsh, mostly to check on the Osprey chicks. The whole family was gathered. Sandy was feeding the chicks, who had grown a lot since Tuesday.
I could only see two of them, but it doesn’t mean that the last-born wasn’t there. The first-born and the middle chick are almost the same size, born only a day apart, while the last chick was probably born two days after the middle chick. At this time in their development four days make a huge difference.
The oldest chick is just over three weeks old now and has already learned a lot, like mimicking Sandy when she sounded a warning to a pelican flying over the nest.
I had to smile. It has also discovered its wings and is trying to flex them a bit already. In the picture below, Sandy is probably feeding the little one, whom she wisely keeps a bit separated from the two older ones. I am hoping the tiny last-born will survive. Its chances to fledge are statistically only about 38%. But then, Sandy is an exceptional mother and Stanley is a great provider.
When walking quickly around the marsh, I got a fourth surprise. Henry, the mischievous young Great Blue Heron, who used to attack the Osprey nest in 2015, was back. He is still much smaller than the Mayor, and was keenly watching the nest from the north side of the marsh. Not again, I thought.
I was trying to move closer to get a clear shot when I heard heavy wing beats. The Mayor was approaching, fast. I was so surprised that I didn’t even get a clear picture of him chasing away young Henry. But here is the end tail of that action.
Happy being firmly in charge of the city again, the Mayor settled at the far end of the marsh.
Everything was good again. When I left to go home, the courting Mottled Duck couple cruised the calm waters just below the Osprey nest.
We all wish you Happy Easter.
On Sunday I took a short walk at the salt marsh and found Sandy ‘babysitting’ the nest. I told her about my hope to have a modern and durable nest dish in place by end of November. Without them needing to take on a mortgage. I think she was listening. She must have seen quite a bit of action around the nest last week. The county did all the tree trimming required for the big truck to get close to her home. A big thanks to the wonderful rangers at Sand Key Park! They truly care about the salt marsh residents.
So now we just need to raise the funds. And we are working hard to get that done as soon as possible. We have approached two large and very successful hotels here on Sand Key, Sheraton and Marriott, to sponsor the nest project. Many of their guests walk at the salt marsh and enjoy observing the Osprey couple and their kids (picture from 2015).
Unfortunately we have not yet heard back from them, but many residents in the area have already sent in contributions. Some of you have asked me if there is a way for you, the friends of this Osprey couple, to contribute too. So here it is. If you want to help, please send your contribution (tax deductible in the US) directly to the local chapter of the Audubon Society at
He was ‘dancing’ around all by himself. But he wanted an audience. So he moved towards the far end of the marsh where a family of White Ibis were minding their own business. Once there, he did a disappearing act. No applause.
He was not happy. He sat in the water for ten minutes just sulking. That was not like him and I was getting worried. I walked to the far end of the marsh.
And finally he got up, shook his beautiful feathers and walked onto dry land to think about a better strategy.
And right away I spotted another diver, a young Mottled Duck. He didn’t need an audience and was happy just getting a refreshing bath.
When leaving the salt marsh, I was treated to a ‘fly by’. A Snowy Egret had also decided to move on.
I hurried home along the bay side and found a successful fisherman. The older Great Blue Heron, the Mayor, had just captured his Sunday breakfast. I am sure that, in his book, this catch was as delicious as a heap of pumpkin spiced pancakes.
We all wish you a wonderful week and hope you can get a moment in nature, away from all stress. Peace.
Seeing the fish, Lady Cawcaw started to sing. She sang from the heart. You know that song. It’s quite repetitive, as you can hear in this 30 second clip.
And Stanley, once he flew towards the ocean, soon came back with a fish and started eating it in his usual hideout in the old pine tree close to the nest.
As you can see, Lady Cawcaw’s parents both caught the same kind of fish. I’m sure there was a school of that particular fish close to the shore and that was the reason they wanted her to come with them and learn. But no.
She was hungry. And she continued to ask for food. I was sitting on “my” bench and watching her desperate quest to be fed without getting her feathers wet, when I noticed some movement on the water below the nest. I couldn’t believe my eyes…
…when Mama Mottled Duck swam to the shore with seven ducklings. She climbed up on the grass and so did the ducklings. Where was she taking them?!
They marched straight towards the stone wall between the marsh and the busy street. Oh, no!!
Mama Duck knew about a hole in the wall and they went through it. I had to run around the stone wall to get to the road. The traffic had to be stopped! I was gesturing like a mad woman (that I am) to the cars. Mama Duck and the ducklings marched right on to the busy street!
The cars stopped! They did. And Mama marched onto the Sailing Center grounds. Then into the grass and further towards the bay.
I guess their nest had been flooded by the rains dumped on us by TS Colin, and she had to move. The salt marsh is brimming with water.
Probably the highest water levels I’ve seen. Many of the small islands are under water and marsh flowers are sticking up from the water.
The whole marsh looks more like a lake. No small “beaches” or mud flats.
All, apart from the younger Great Blue Heron. He was standing right next to “my” bench. And he didn’t like to see me.
In fact, he was very vocal about it. Before he took off.
Apart from Great Egrets, I spotted a Snowy Egret on the doggy park fence, next to a little “lake” that had formed there.
…while her cousins, the Moorhens, were cruising the marsh in big numbers.
And how was the svelte Lady Cawcaw, you may ask. She was just fine. She sang again. And this time her song was heard. Mama Sandy came in with half a fish.
I left her eating her small portion, and walked onto the beach. A big party was going on in the new fresh water lake.
Laughing Gulls, Black Skimmers and Royal Terns enjoyed the temporary bath tub. There were hundreds of birds around. Some flying in tandem…
…others just relaxing on the sand.
I was almost at home when an Osprey flying over the ocean caught my eye. It was lady Cawcaw!
I guess her small lunch had left her hungry. She flew beautifully, but was not looking down. She’s yet to learn that fish don’t fly. But this was a great start. Next time when her parents want her to go fishing with them, she just might follow them.
TINY LESSONS BLOG 