Imagine you’re soaring with ospreys over Cayuga’s shimmering waters, preparing the nest, embracing the ritual of spring—a majestic cycle of life awaits you.
As the first warm breezes of early spring ruffle the chilled waters at the south end of Cayuga Lake, anticipation rises in me. I am a female Osprey, returning alone from far to the south along the old sky-roads. We do not migrate as a pair; my mate often reaches the nest ahead of me to reclaim the site and begin repairs. Still, this is the place we claim again, season after season.
Two Osprey perched on the nest near the Birding Trail of Cass Park. Cayuga Lake in the distance.
On arrival I wheel high above the shoreline, searching for the platform we left to winter. There it stands—the tall sentinel above the lake. He is there, too, calling once as he lifts, and the rim already shows the first fresh sticks of the year. Against the bright sky the nest looks rough-hewn, yet every branch lies to a purpose.
Two Osprey perched on the nest near the Birding Trail of Cass Park.
As I settled onto the platform, tthe familiar tilt of the timbers and the dry rattle of last year’s sticks steady me. I meticulously inspected our creation, the repository of our hopes and future lineage. My mate and I ferry fresh twigs and weeds, wedging them into the rim and lacing the walls tight against the spring winds.
In due time, beneath the sheltering rim, I laid a small clutch of mottled eggs—the culmination of our bond, the promise of continuity. Through the weeks that follow I keep them warm and dry, turning them with my beak and settling the heat of my breast upon them. My mate does the heavy work of provision—fish after fish to the rail—and stands guard, calling when intruders drift close. Now and then he eases onto the eggs while I feed, but the watching and warming are chiefly mine.
Two Osprey perched on the nest near the Birding Trail of Cass Park.
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.
Thank you Candace E. Cornell of the Cayuga Lake Osprey Network for your helpful advice.
For further information: —–Poole, Alan F. ; 2019, “Ospreys: The Revival of a Global Raptor”; Johns Hopkins University Press —Mackrill, Tim; 2024; “The Osprey”; Bloomsbury Publishing
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Copyright 2025 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
Discover the captivating world of Laughing Gulls, the jesters of Cocoa Beach’s shores. Dive into their lives, exploring the dance of courtship, the adaptability in their diet, and their vital role in the coastal symphony.
On the shores of Cocoa Beach, where the Atlantic’s waves gently knead the sands of Brevard County, Laughing Gulls (Leucophaeus atricilla) enact their daily ballet of survival and adaptation. In the span of mere minutes, the shifting light of Florida’s coastal theater presents two scenes, each with the same protagonist yet donned in starkly different costumes.
The Many Faces of Adaptation
The first gull, captured against the frothy lace of the incoming tide, is the epitome of the breeding plumage: a sleek, black hood that starkly contrasts its pearl-grey wings. This attire is not merely for allure but speaks of its readiness to engage in the rituals of courtship and the responsibilities of rearing the next generation. This black hood, a seasonal crown, fades as the duties of breeding wane, revealing the less conspicuous garb of the non-breeding season—a mottled grey head atop the same sturdy body, ready to blend into the off-season’s landscape.
Laughing Gull with breeding plumageLaughing Gull, nonbreeding plumage
Minutes Of Separation
The mere minutes that separate the two photographs are but a whisper in the grand dialogue of evolutionary time. Yet, they offer a glimpse into the ever-present duality of the Laughing Gull’s life. In one, the gull stands resolute, black-headed and bold against the soft chaos of the sea’s edge. In the other, its head appears dusted with the wisdom of age, a visual softening that speaks to the less confrontational time of year.
Here are some observations to make sense of this disparity:
Overlap of Molting Periods: Laughing Gulls do not all breed at the same time; some individuals may start molting into or out of breeding plumage earlier or later than others. This can result in birds with different plumage being seen together.
Varied Maturity: Younger gulls or those not yet of breeding age may not have developed the breeding plumage, while adults in the same flock may display full breeding colors.
Breeding Colonies: Gulls often nest in colonies where birds in different stages of the breeding cycle can be observed together, including those that may have lost mates or failed to breed and therefore did not develop breeding plumage.
Health or Nutritional Status: Sometimes a bird’s plumage can be affected by its health or nutritional status. A gull in poor health might not molt into breeding plumage as expected.
Geographic and Climatic Factors: Local environmental conditions can influence the timing of molting. Birds in the same location can experience different environmental cues that might affect their molt.
Non-breeding Visitors: During the breeding season, some non-breeding birds may still be present and intermingle with breeding birds, either because they are passing through the area or they are non-breeding residents.
Extended Breeding Season: In areas with a long breeding season, such as in subtropical and tropical regions, the breeding and non-breeding plumages can be seen at the same time due to the extended period over which breeding can occur.
Masters of the Coastal Realm
The Laughing Gulls are more than just residents of the coast; they are its caretakers and witnesses. Their laughing calls are synonymous with the ocean’s breath, a soundscape that harmonizes with the rhythmic crashing of waves. These birds thrive in the intertidal zone, a challenging environment where land and sea engage in a perpetual tussle. Here, they must be opportunistic, agile, and resourceful, for the beach offers both a cornucopia of food and the threat of unpredictability.
The Ebb and Flow of Existence
The life of a Laughing Gull is intimately tied to the ebb and flow of the tides. Their diet is a testament to their adaptability, comprising anything the sea yields—fish, crustaceans, and even the unfortunate insects that stray too close to the brine. They are pirates of the shore, unafraid to snatch a meal from another bird or scavenge the remains of human activity.
Reflections on Change and Constancy
Laughing Gulls are the embodiment of the sea’s narrative around us—a story of change and constancy. Their lives are a testament to the tumultuous history of the ocean, and their presence is a thread that connects us to the vast, blue mystery. They remind us that, while the sea’s moods are many and its faces ever-changing, it remains a central force in the narrative of life on Earth.
In the Face of Tomorrow
In the space between these two images, we find a profound lesson on the nature of time and the resilience of life. The Laughing Gulls of Cocoa Beach, with their shifting plumage and timeless cries, are messengers of the past, envoys of the present, and harbingers of the future. As we contemplate their existence, we are reminded of our own place within the natural world—a world that requires our understanding and protection, lest the laughter of these gulls fades into the silent archives of history.
The Laughing Gulls of Cocoa Beach continue their dance, unfazed by the human gaze, their lives a fluid adaptation to the sea’s caprices. And as the sun marches across the sky, casting the story of these gulls into relief against the shifting sands, we are privileged to observe, to learn, and to cherish the Atlantic Ocean’s enduring tale.
Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Experience here the frozen beauty of Taughannock Falls in winter, the verdant revival of spring, the lush warmth of summer, and autumn’s fiery transformation. The falls symbolize the unending cycle of seasons.
As the sun dipped lower, casting its farewell in hues of amber and soft gold, Pam and I stood beside the serene Cayuga Lake Inlet, gazing westward. The stillness of the evening was a quiet symphony, punctuated only by the gentle lapping of water against the shore. It was November 5th, and the world seemed to hold its breath in the golden hour, that perfect moment minutes before the sun would bid its final adieu for the day.
Above us, the sky was a canvas of nature’s delicate brushwork – the Cirrus fibratus. These high-altitude clouds, ethereal and wispy, stretched across the sky like strands of silken thread. The cirrus clouds, the feathery remnants of far-travelled storms, are the poets of the atmosphere, telling tales of weather yet to come. Their presence was both a testament to the day’s tranquility and a harbinger of change looming on the horizon.
Taken with the Apple IPhone 14 ProMax, raw format
Cloud Lore
Cirrus fibratus clouds, in their striated splendor, often signal the approach of a warm front and are associated with the shifts in weather patterns. As we stood there, the clouds seemed to be etching the sky with messages in a cryptic script, hints of the coming days. These clouds, so high in the sky, are formed from ice crystals, and their very existence speaks of the coldness of the upper atmosphere, as the days down here by the lake inlet lengthen towards the winter solstice.
The days of early November, with their crisp air and the promise of winter, bring a change in the light, a deepening of colors, and a certain clarity to the world. The skies seem grander, a vast dome of ever-changing artistry, and the Cirrus fibratus are our guides to the imminent transformation. They remind us that the earth is tilting away from the sun in our hemisphere, pulling us into the cooler seasons.
Eternal Change
These cirrus formations, while signaling the shifts in weather, also play with the light of the lengthening days. The sun’s rays, ever lower on the horizon, catch the ice crystals, creating a prism effect that can result in sundogs, those bright spots of light that occasionally grace the sky at solar dawn or dusk. They add a mystical quality to the already enchanted time of day.
As the twilight deepened, the Cirrus fibratus began to glow with the sun’s final touch, turning from white to shades of pink and fiery orange. This spectacle was a gentle reminder of the passage of time, the cycles of nature, and the endless dance between the earth and the sun. The clouds foretold of cooler weather, perhaps a sign that we should cherish these last vestiges of autumnal warmth.
As night began to embrace the sky, the clouds slowly faded from our sight, but the memory of their beauty and the secrets they carried lingered. They are not just ice and air; they are messengers, carrying the stories of the atmosphere from one part of the world to another, connecting us with the rhythms of the earth in their ceaseless journey.
Signs and Wonders
In the coming days, we would watch the sky, taking note of the cirrus and the subtle cues they offered. Would there be rain, a storm, or perhaps a clear day that belies the cold snap in the air? Only time would tell, but for now, we stood in silent appreciation of nature’s grace, feeling the profound connection to the world around us that only a sunset watched together can bring.
In the gentle embrace of the Finger Lakes region of New York State, the crisp post-Thanksgiving air is a mix of woodsmoke and the faint whisper of winter on the horizon. The earthy scent of fallen leaves, damp from the morning dew, begins to permeate the atmosphere, beckoning families outdoors to partake in the timeless ritual of leaf gathering.
The landscape is a canvas of russet and gold, painted by the hands of autumn. In one of the many serene backyards, framed by the skeletal silhouettes of trees now slumbering after their fiery display, a mound of leaves becomes the center of joyous activity. Here, a child, bundled in the cozy layers necessary to fend off the chill, is immersed in the simple, yet profound act of play. The leaves, a tapestry of oaks and maples, become her castle, her sea, her world to explore.
Her laughter rings clear, a melodic counterpoint to the rustling leaves as she is lifted high by loving hands only to descend into the crunchy embrace of her leafy playpen. A grandfather, his face etched with the smile lines of countless summers and autumns past, becomes the orchestrator of this joy. His flannel shirt, a patchwork of reds and greens, reflects the colors of the season, and his hands, weathered from years of tending to the earth and its cycles, now tenderly guide the child in her play.
The rake, usually a tool of labor, becomes a wand of magic, directing the leaves into heaps that rise and fall with each jump and dive. The child’s mittened hands grasp at the leaves, each one a different hue, a different shape, a different story. They fly up around her like a flock of birds taking flight, then settle back into their collective, creating a soft rustling symphony that speaks of the changing season.
The photographs of this gallery are by Soraya Leathers
As the sun begins to dip lower, casting elongated shadows across the yard, the child’s energy wanes. The vibrant activity gives way to tranquil moments of rest, with the child now lying still among the leaves, her eyes reflecting the vastness of the sky above, clear and blue, a window between the earthly and the infinite.
The day wanes, and the leaf-gathering winds down. A final tableau shows the child, now indoors, cocooned in the warmth of a blanket that mirrors the plaid of her grandfather’s shirt, the same colors now muted and soft. Her eyes are heavy with the weight of a day well spent, her dreams surely filled with the laughter and the leaves and the boundless love that turns even the simplest act into a treasure of memories.
This is the essence of leaf gathering in the Finger Lakes after Thanksgiving – not just the collection of what has fallen, but the gathering of family, of joy, and of moments that will be cherished and recalled long after the last leaf has been tucked into the earth’s winter bed. It’s a time when the harvest is not just of the land’s bounty but of the heart’s. Each leaf, a reminder that even as the world prepares to sleep beneath the snow, life is rich, full, and evergreen in the hearts of those who share it.
Crisp maple leaves among hemlock roots on the bank of Lick Brook, Thayer Preserve. Nestled within the breathtaking expanse of Tompkins County in New York’s Finger Lakes Region, is a canvas where nature paints its most exquisite scenes. This preserve is a symphony of serene landscapes, a place where the tranquility of nature is preserved and cherished.
In this haven, the chorus of birdsong greets the day, echoing through the lush canopy of trees that stand as ancient guardians of the land. Oaks, maples, and hemlocks, some as old as time, stretch their boughs towards the sky, creating a verdant cathedral that shelters a diverse array of flora and fauna. The sunlight filters through these leafy domes, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor, a mosaic of light and life.
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The trails of Thayer Preserve meander through this natural paradise, inviting visitors to embark on a journey of discovery. Each path is a narrative, telling the story of the land, from the delicate wildflowers that peek shyly from the underbrush to the stately deer that roam with a quiet dignity.
The preserve is not just a place of beauty; it’s a testament to the delicate balance of ecosystems. Here, conservation efforts intertwine with recreation, ensuring that the splendor of the environment is preserved for future generations. It’s a sanctuary where the hustle of modern life fades, and one can reconnect with the earth’s gentle rhythms.
As the seasons change, Thayer Preserve transforms. Spring brings a burst of color, with wildflowers carpeting the ground. Summer deepens the greens of the forest, while autumn sets the woods ablaze with fiery hues. In winter, a serene blanket of snow envelopes the landscape, turning it into a quiet wonderland.
In the heart of the Finger Lakes Region, Thayer Preserve stands as a beacon of natural beauty and tranquility. It’s a place where the soul can find peace, the mind can wander freely, and the heart can revel in the simple joy of nature’s embrace. This preserve is not just a location on a map; it’s a journey, an experience, a love letter to the natural world.
Maple leaves and hemlock roots share an environment yet play distinct roles in the ecosystem. Maple leaves, broad and vibrant, capture sunlight. This process fuels their growth and contributes to the air we breathe. Each fall, these leaves turn yellow and brown, signaling a natural change. They fall, joining the forest floor. Here, they decompose, becoming part of the soil. This enriches the earth, supporting new plant life.
Hemlock roots anchor these mighty trees. Reaching deep into the soil, drawing up water and nutrients. These roots also stabilize soil, preventing erosion and are a network, unseen but vital, connecting the tree to its environment.
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These natural processes have parallels in human generations. Like the leaves, each generation has its time in the sun. People grow, contribute to their world, and then make way for the next. The knowledge and experiences they leave behind enrich the lives of those who follow, much like fallen leaves nourish the soil.
Similarly, the hemlock roots parallel the foundational elements of human society. Traditions, cultures, and values are passed down, anchoring each new generation. They provide stability and nourishment, helping to guide growth and development.
Over time, just as the forest evolves through the cycles of leaves falling and roots growing, human societies change. Each generation builds upon the last, growing in the richness left behind. This ongoing cycle speaks to the resilience and interconnectedness of life, whether in a forest or in human communities.
In both nature and human experience, there is a rhythm of growth, contribution, and renewal. The falling of maple leaves, and the steadfastness of hemlock roots illustrate this beautifully, reminding us of the continuity and change inherent in all living systems.
Michael Stephen Wills Photography 