Jack, wearing his coolest sunglasses and khaki explorers hat, clipped his life vest, and waded down to his kayak, while his sister, Aspen, watched as he climbed in. She handed him the paddle and then stepped into hers, wobbling just a bit. That wobble always made her nervous; she had fallen out of a canoe once when she was younger and never forgot it. Once they were both seated, they were off exploring one of the coves of Lake Murray. “Let’s play a game,” Aspen said. “Let’s see who can spot the most wildlife.”
“That’s not fair; you know everything,” Jack complained.
Ha, Aspen laughed to herself. “Not quite, Jack. There are so many species, and I only know a fraction of them, but thanks for thinking so highly of me!” she said winking at him. They paddled down the waterway hugging the shore in their kayaks. “There’s a turtle!” Jack shouted excitedly. It was sunning itself on a log just off the shore about 50 feet ahead of them. As they approached, it plopped into the water. Overhead an osprey circled. Aspen knew it by its size and white head.
“Osprey,” Aspen shouted startling Jack. They continued to explore spotting a few songbirds along the shore: blue jay, cardinal, and red-winged blackbird. A fish jumped out of the water, splashing just off the side of Jack’s kayak. The wind was starting to blow; they had to paddle harder. At the end of the cove, they approached a marshy area with bushes scattered here and there. They wove in and out of the bushes like a maze and finally came to a spot where the water was so low they could go no further. They heard crows cawing in the woods just beyond the bank. A very remote spot, the crows were used to their privacy. The sight of humans threw them into a frenzy. Aspen and Jack turned and traversed back along the other bank.
“Blue heron,” Jack screamed. They must have startled it because suddenly it flew away, gliding effortlessly over the water to the other bank. They weaved around some downed trees and found a creek that veered off to the right.
“Hey, Jack! Over here,” Aspen yelled. He followed his sister down the creek. Another blue heron stood like a statue next to a log. As they approached, it flew about a hundred feet upstream and stood looking at them. A fallen tree blocked their way; they had to maneuver under low hanging branches to paddle over the very end of the trunk. The heron flew away again as they approached. A few vultures circled overhead. Suddenly they heard a very strange sound, hiss hiss, heeck. Aspen thought something must have been dying. She had never heard anything like it. She beached her kayak and carefully stepped out, her shoe sinking into the mud along the bank.
“What is it?” Jack asked, worried just a bit.
“I don’t know, come over here.” She pulled his kayak up and helped him step out into the tall grasses that lined the bank. Aspen crept through the grass with Jack right behind her. As they broke through the tree line, it opened up. Before them stood a single tree surrounded by a circle of dirt about two feet wide, then surrounded by tall grass. There was a small mud hole filled with rainwater from the afternoon storms. Black vultures lined every branch of the tree and began to take flight as they approached. The ground seemed to be trampled down with black feathers scattered here and there. More vultures took flight. This must be a nesting site, Aspen deducted. She had never seen anything like it.
“Let’s go — this is creepy,” Jack said. Vultures high above them were peering down hissing occasionally. It reminded Jack of the sound his cat made when she hacked up a fur ball. “I feel like they are just waiting for me to die so they can eat me!” Jack suddenly imagined himself crawling across a dry, dusty desert with the ground cracked from drought, the sun beating down on him, vultures circling overhead, biding their time for a tasty snack. Suddenly Jack sprinted to the kayaks, fast as lightning; he was seated and pushed off the bank, his sister followed. They explored further up the stream until they came to a huge tree blocking the way. There was no getting by this one, so they turned around and headed back to the lake. The vultures now sat in the trees along the creek and peered down at them; others still circled in the air. There had to be over a hundred, Aspen thought, but Jack was sure it was more like a million, which is exactly how he told the story later to his friends.
Back on the lake, they spotted a large nest perched atop a platform standing at least twelve feet up in the air. Osprey nest they guessed, but it looked abandoned. “Blue heron!” Jack shouted, continuing the game.
“White egret and look at that dark gray one with it,” Aspen said as the birds flew across their path. On they went, an occasional boat speeding by, the wake wobbling them a bit. They could see their destination ahead, but it sure did seem like it was taking forever to get there. Another fish jumped and splashed in the water off Jack’s kayak. A jet ski flew by providing an even better wake for Jack to rock on. “Be careful little brother; you could flip.”
“No way sis, I got this!” Jack said, trying to sound cool. They finally paddled up onto the shore and pulled the kayaks out. “Hey, who won?” Jack asked.
“Oh yeah, ya know, I lost count!” Aspen said.
“That means I won! I won! I won! I won!” Jack chanted as he danced around the grassy shore. Aspen dropped Jack off at home and headed back to the center. Although she had the day off , she visited the hospital after dropping her stuff off in her room upstairs.
Kim was inside examining two juvenile ospreys that were brought in earlier that morning. A fisherman found the nest floating on Lake Murray with the nestlings still inside. He fished it out and promptly brought it to the center. The exam revealed the nestlings to be very healthy. The two birds were placed in a kennel to rest while Kim posted pictures and the rescue story on Facebook. One of the missions of the center was to educate anyone and everyone it could. Facebook was an excellent way of communicating with the public. Aspen returned upstairs and spent the afternoon reading.
After dinner, while catching up with a few friends, she checked the center’s page on Facebook. Reading the comments under the osprey photos, she came across a comment that caught her eye. She ran downstairs and found Kim and told her what she had seen. A local man who boated on Lake Murray regularly had been out that morning and noticed that the osprey nest he typically saw was missing. Could it be the same nest they thought? They instantly got to work, messaging the man, who replied instantly. Kim called him, and they compared stories. Aspen could tell from her facial expressions that a miracle had just happened. “I can’t believe it, it’s the same nest, and the parents are still there. If we get out there we may be able to reunite them,” Kim said leaving the office. Within an hour he was at the center, ready to take them back to their parents. A laundry basket with the nest and birds inside would be attached where the old nest had been. Then they would wait and see if the parents returned. Kim gave him instructions, and he was off .
Everyone at the center waited with anticipation to hear back from him. They busied themselves by completing all the tasks for the day: every mouth fed, everything cleaned up, diets made, lights out, alarm set, and doors locked. Upstairs, Aspen readied for bed; it was almost midnight when her phone beeped, alerting to a text. It was Kim telling her to check Facebook. As she clicked on the center’s page, she hoped for a happy ending, and she got it! On the computer screen, were several pictures showing the re-nesting, with a story explaining the parents were seen tending the nest as the boater left the area. Aspen went to bed amazed at the happy ending, refreshed to know so many people cared. She knew, whenever possible, the best place for baby birds was always with their parents!
