Welcome Back...

...to me, that is! I've been on the road (and on the rails, and in the air, and under sail, and even underwater) for the better part of the last month, with stops in New Hampshire, Maryland, London, and most notably the Seychelles. My Seychelles trip has given me material for at least a few posts that will follow in the coming days (Ah, who am I kidding: They'll follow in the coming weeks more likely).

But I also want to say "welcome back" to the two fine feathered friends pictured above and all of their kind. Mid-March is the time of year when ospreys return to the Northeast from their overwintering grounds in South and Central America. I look forward to their arrival with eager anticipation each year, and this past week I saw my first pair of the year. I spent three days at meetings in the amazing headquarters of the Chesapeake Bay Foundation in Annapolis, right on the banks of the Bay (I snapped the pair above elsewhere in the Chesapeake two years ago). A pair nesting atop a platform emerging from the marsh grasses kept me distracted as they collected sticks and twigs to build their home, and spent a fair bit of time mating as well. They also made me feel a bit better about no longer exploring the remarkable Seychelles, reminding me that my part of the world has its own wildlife treats too.

Ospreys may be my favorite type of bird. Their rivals for that prestigious title are the laughing kookaburra and the brown pelican. The osprey probably gets the nod, though, for the same reason that I officially rank Sam Adams Boston Lager above Sleeman Honey Brown and Brooklyn Lager as my favorite beer: It's the New England bird among the group of contenders and, with certain exceptions such as my devotion to the mighty Detroit Pistons, things New England tend to trump their counterparts in my personal hierarchies. But I digress...

Those birds reminded me to check the Dennis Puleston Osprey Cam (my favorite web cam, but only slightly ahead of this equally important one). This video camera is positioned over the top of an osprey platform at the mouth of the Carmans River in the Wertheim National Wildlife Refuge on the South Shore of Long Island. Just before the arrival of the nesting pair using the platform, the camera is installed and begins a live 24-hour web feed of the activities in the nest. At the moment, most of the action is the birds coming and going as they build their nest, interspersed with moments of osprey love. However, before too long one bird or the other (mostly the female, but not exclusively) will remain in the nest full-time, sitting atop this year's clutch of eggs. The other bird will be off fishing, and many of their quarry will be the river herring that inspired the name of the this blog. In the years ahead, this herring run should grow tremendously thanks to a fish ladder recently installed in time for this year's alewife run. (For more observations on the importance of river herring for ospreys, check out David Gessner's book The Return of the Osprey. Gessner's follow-up book Soaring with Fidel tracking the lives of ospreys during the southern part of their migration is worth a look too.)

The osprey cam is named for the man in whose honor my job for the past four years was created, and who fought to save dwindling ospreys populations from the impacts of DDT back in the mid-1960s. Dennis Puleston was an absolutely giant figure, and one I never had the pleasure of meeting. But I have read about his extraordinary deeds, read several of his books, and met and talked to many people who knew him well and who recount through unique individual experiences with the man but with common fondness and reverence just how much he shaped their lives and our world (for a taste of these stories, go here). He traveled the world to far-flung places, and worked tirelessly to protect natural resources closer to home. There was something about my recent transition from the wonders of the Indian Ocean to re-acquaintance with the birds that defined his legacy that made me truly feel his spirit.