Year after year, I’ve watched Olive and Orlando arrive from the south, build their big nest and raise a new generation of Osprey chicks.
They used to nest in a perfect habitat — the very place toward which their heads are now turned. It was located on a long, narrow strip of land jutting into Little Assawoman Bay, in Selbyville, Delaware.
Last year, an old-fashioned farm stood there, studded with big old trees in which quite a few of my seabird friends found a happy place to roost and nest. Ospreys, Herons, Egrets and Lesser Yellowlegs all felt safe here, protected from storms and predators, and wonderfully near to favorite feeding grounds.
But today my beloved Osprey couple are staring at a bulldozed mess where their beautiful nesting places used to stand.
Their expressions say it all. I feel they must be confused and disheartened. What on earth happened to our habitat? What can we do? Where can we make our nest this year?
Eventually, in an effort that breaks my heart, they try to place nesting twigs on the wholly inadequate platform on which they’re standing.
Eventually, a man who looks older than me walks by and introduces himself.
As we chat, I asked him why the nesting peninsula has been stripped bare.
He explains the farmer recently died and his kids have sold the land to a developer—who plans to build 36 luxury homes and a yacht marina on the site of this lost wildlife paradise.
Now I realize why I haven’t found my dear Great Blue Heron friends, Beau and Belle, this year. I can only hope that they, like this Osprey couple, will find a suitable place to relocate.
But this habitat for so many creatures I love and used to photograph — it has vanished. And it never will return.
I have lost a place to set my tripod and big telephoto lens, waiting for my seabird buddies to drop by.
But my Osprey, Heron and Egret friends have lost everything.
