Ospreys, nesting. No photos of the golfers.

On the way from Kamloops to Merritt, that July of 2004, we passed a golf course by a lake. In the blazing sun, (and it was HOT!) red-faced golfers trundled their clubs over the green. I looked away, to the cool lake. And there, in front of us, in plain view of all those oblivious golfers, was a telephone pole with a huge nest on the top.

We stopped instantly. And here are some of Laurie's photos:

The parent osprey (mother? Do fathers also tend to the young?) leaving the nest.

Standing guard.

Someone up there is curious about us:

Another view, cropped to get a decent look. Click on the photo to note what looks, to me, like a spotted back. Is it?

Question to those in the know: is that the chick, or is it the other parent, sitting on the eggs?

We were there, at the side of the road across from the golfers, for quite some time. No-one so much as glanced our way.

Moral of the story: golfers are insane. Or birders are. Or both.