It Came From the Swamp
(First in a series.)
I was sitting on my porch minding my own business when an osprey flew towards my building from the direction of the lake. It alighted on a bare-branched tree about 50 feet away and began picking away at something. With nothing better to do, I used the digital zoom on my camera and snapped a picture:
He seemed to be tucking into a delicious fish. With every peck, the fish's tail wiggled in what I assumed was not delight. The noise from the feast carried easily to my porch, sounding like a handful of pencils being snapped in half repeatedly.
Mmm, swamp-fish. That's good eatin'!
I was sitting on my porch minding my own business when an osprey flew towards my building from the direction of the lake. It alighted on a bare-branched tree about 50 feet away and began picking away at something. With nothing better to do, I used the digital zoom on my camera and snapped a picture:
He seemed to be tucking into a delicious fish. With every peck, the fish's tail wiggled in what I assumed was not delight. The noise from the feast carried easily to my porch, sounding like a handful of pencils being snapped in half repeatedly.
Mmm, swamp-fish. That's good eatin'!