August 2: Dusk Flights
Kristen Lindquist
A big Land Trust event this evening saw me back at the office at 8 p.m. unloading stuff from my car in the dark. At one point as I was standing outside talking to one of my co-workers between bouts of carrying boxes, a bat flew at face level right between us, probably ten feet in front of me. I always like seeing bats, so that was a little thrill, having one flutter past so close on its way to the river to pick off some bugs for dinner.
Then, as I was driving home, I looked up, and in the clouded, darkling sky, recognized the outline of an osprey. What was it doing out so late? Where was it headed? Hawks have much better eyes than we do, so perhaps it sees well in dim light. It piqued my curiosity, in any case. Good night, bat. Good night, osprey. Good night, storm clouds.
Osprey after dark?
We'll never understand birds.
That's not a bad thing.
Then, as I was driving home, I looked up, and in the clouded, darkling sky, recognized the outline of an osprey. What was it doing out so late? Where was it headed? Hawks have much better eyes than we do, so perhaps it sees well in dim light. It piqued my curiosity, in any case. Good night, bat. Good night, osprey. Good night, storm clouds.
Osprey after dark?
We'll never understand birds.
That's not a bad thing.