Problem month: Unlike my usual ten or so postings a month, for the last thirty days, I made only one. The blog, itself, vanished, and even when it was restored, the subscriber emailer did not work. Add to this, interminable thick wildfire smoke blanketed the area making eyes burn and breathing difficult. (I fled to the Coast.) Further, local covid cases skyrocketed. It has been a difficult month. Sigh…, with this posting, the blog, mailings, and I seem restored.
More than any other bird, the Osprey is the symbol of Kootenay Lake. It is numerous and highly visible during the warm season as it fishes and nests over and adjacent to the waters. If you head out on the Lake in the summer, or even walk its shore, an inquisitive eye treats you the sight of an osprey hovering over the water, diving, lifting fish from the water, and flying off with it to feed its young.
This leads to a summer of flying fish, many of which are headless.
Ospreys and humans have had a long relationship, certainly since European settlers started driving pilings in the shallows, and possibly earlier. Ospreys like the easy access to the Lake that humans provide by building dolphins and erecting pilings. They find these human structures propitious for their nests. Mind you, while ospreys tolerate human presence, they chirp their objections if people happen to get too close to what they perceive as their nest-bearing structures. Oh well, they are fun to watch.
The relationship did not always go as well as it does now. When I was a child, my family was horrified when louts would set nest-bearing pilings afire so as to incinerate osprey chicks. (The pilings at Troup still bear the scars of those fires.) The motivation for this bit of vandalism was apparently the assumption of local fishermen that the ospreys were stealing all the good game fish, and these were fish the humans wanted for themselves.
Apart from the inherent injustice of this behaviour, it relied upon a faulty assessment of osprey activities. Osprey generally grab the easiest prey, and those tend to be the slowly swimming suckers. Suckers are not the good-eating fish that fishermen seek. However, the facts did not stop humans from demonizing osprey believing that they favoured trout and Kokanee. Sigh….
Here are two pictures of flying suckers taken this last week.


Requiem for a snag
I didn’t know the tree when it was alive and bore leaves. Indeed, I don’t even know what species it was. I had known it only as a large snag and a wildlife tree for the last four years. Today, on a windless clear day, and with a resounding CRACK, the whole tree tipped over. Now on the ground it began a new stage in its evolution.
While many small birds visited it, in August its sunlit position beside a spawning stream meant that big birds, such as Bald Eagles and Turkey Vultures, hung out there as they hungrily eyed the Kokanee spawning in the waters below. Indeed, it was the Turkey Vultures I had come to watch for they used that particular snag in an unusual way. At night, they would roost elsewhere in the forest, but, with the rising sun some would gather on the snag and spread their wings in the sunlight to warm themselves after a cool-night’s sleep. I have come to liken the comfort the vultures seemed to experience from this stance as their version of a morning cup of coffee.
All of that came to an abrupt end early this morning. A Turkey Vulture was perched with wings spread in the sunlight. In response to an initial snapping sound, the vulture flew off. It returned quickly and tried to resume the pleasures of the warming sunlight, but then with the ultimate loud CRACK, the vulture took to the air again as the snag slowly tipped and then thundered to the ground.
With the rumble of the snag crashing to the ground, the vulture’s favourite warming tree was gone leaving no obvious replacement.
A Turkey Vulture perches spread winged in the early morning sunlight. It seems that this way to warm after a cold night was equivalent to their morning cup of coffee. They might now need to go cold turkey (so to speak).

I only had my birding lens handy, so when the snag abruptly started to fall, I captured a portion of it and this looks rather as if it were merely a leaning tree. No, this trunk was on its way down and thundered to the ground. The snag’s new existence, alas, does not include spread-winged vultures and as being the only nearby snag to catch the early sunlight, the vultures might now have to do without their morning coffee.
