As the first warm breezes of early spring touched the chilled waters at the south end of Cayuga Lake, a sense of anticipation stirred within me. I am a female osprey, and with my mate, I have traveled vast distances, leaving behind the southern wintering grounds to return to the place we have called home for seasons past.
Upon our arrival, we circled above, our keen eyes scanning for the familiar structure we had left behind. The nesting site, a towering platform perched like a sentinel above the lake, stood where we had last embraced it. The silhouette of the nest against the sky was a welcoming sight, the sticks and branches entwined in a wild, yet purposeful pattern.
As I settled onto the platform, the memories of previous years enveloped me. I meticulously inspected our creation, the repository of our hopes and future lineage. My mate, strong and vigilant, brought additional twigs, reinforcing our abode against the blustery spring winds.
In due time, beneath the shelter of the nest and the watchful eyes of my mate, I laid our eggs. They were the culmination of our bond, the promise of continuity. Together, we took turns, one always soaring above, hunting and guarding, while the other nestled over the eggs, warming them with the heat of devoted wings.
The world around us burgeoned with life. The lake’s surface now rippled with the activity of fish – a bounty for our growing family. Days turned into weeks, and our vigilance was rewarded as the first cracks appeared in the eggs. The chicks emerged, delicate yet voracious, their mouths agape for the nourishment we unceasingly provide.
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Michael Stephen Wills Photography 
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