3/15/2026

Harriett Raptor

Many of you know her.

Harriet is an osprey that returns to the platform I built 12 years ago. She comes every year. Harriett is a Ten-year-old mother of sixteen, fluent in telepathy, a possessor of genetic memory, a genius, and a scholar. Her fund of knowledge rivals that of Artificial Intelligence. Harriett is a thinker, a wise osprey; omniscient, especially distinguished for her expertise in the Homo sapiens problem.

Harriett’s journey home began far to the south, where winter loosens its grip along the rivers and coasts of Venezuela. There, for months, she lived among warm winds and silver fish, watching the slow turning of the season through a mind sharpened by long memory and longer thought. When the ancient migratory geometry stirred within her—part instinct, part ancestral knowledge—she rose into the sky and turned north. Mile after mile, she traveled along invisible aerial highways known only to birds, crossing oceans, forests, storms, and the occasional curious Homo sapiens with binoculars. Yet the journey was uneventful, which for a migrating osprey is its own quiet triumph.

At last, she arrived at the platform I built twelve years ago, the familiar landmark standing like a small island of certainty in a complicated world. Harriett circled once, perhaps twice, verifying with philosophical satisfaction that the structure still conformed to the expected laws of engineering and osprey architecture. The winter had been kind; only minor repairs were required. With her mate, she worked for two or three days, adding sticks, rearranging twigs, strengthening the ancient bowl of the nest that had held generations of possibility. Ospreys often return to the same nest year after year, enlarging slowly with each season until it becomes a monument of accumulated effort and memory.

And today, in the quiet authority of spring’s beginning, Harriett laid the first egg of the year. It rests in the center of the nest—cream to pale pink in color, beautifully marked with bold reddish-brown blotches and speckles, each pattern unique as if painted by a thoughtful artist. The egg is about 6 centimeters long, with a strong shell that will shelter the fragile life within for more than a month of careful incubation. Harriett settles over it with the calm composure of a twelve-year veteran mother of sixteen, her bright eyes scanning the horizon, her mind contemplating once again the enduring mystery she studies so carefully: the strange and fascinating species called Homo sapiens who built the platform beneath her kingdom of sticks.

3/18/2026

Harriett has produced a second egg. She is supremely proud.   …. Ospreys typically lay their eggs a few days apart, often producing two or three in a season.  Harriett—being an overachiever- is trying to extend her three-year streak.

Meanwhile, the observing Homo sapiens below take notes and photographs with sincere fascination, blissfully unaware that Harriett, in her silent telepathic way, finds these curious bipeds even more intriguing than the fish they catch.

3/21/2026

Harriett is overjoyed—calm on the outside, celebrating quietly within. Three eggs. Goal achieved.

Each egg is softly colored, no two exactly the same, sitting together like small, quiet worlds—new life waiting. “No rush, no worry,” Harriett thinks with the confidence of experience. “Yes… These are excellent eggs.”

Below, the Homo sapiens watch, take pictures, and whisper as if they are witnessing something rare. Harriett observes with mild curiosity: “These humans are still watching. Fascinating. They document everything… except their own behavior.”

3/24/2026

Ospreys mate for life and are monogamous. Each March, after migrating separately, Harriett and her mate return home and reunite as if no time has passed. Together, they repair the nest and settle in once again. Breading comes naturally. Francisco, for those who have asked, is reliable, steady, and always on time.

While Homo sapiens talk about commitment, relationships, and living together, Harriett and Francisco simply show up and get on with it. No drama, no discussion, no couples therapy—just building a home and beginning again.

3/27/2026

Harriett may look settled and relaxed, but she is anything but. She remains hyper-vigilant, constantly scanning for threats while keeping the eggs warm beneath her. Incubation will last 35–40 days, and she handles most of it—steady, focused, and always alert.

Her mate’s primary role is providing for her during this time of incubation. Ospreys consume a diet composed almost exclusively of fish—approximately 99%—and he delivers these meals consistently, allowing Harriett to remain on the nest. Occasionally, he helps by taking short turns on the eggs while she takes a break. These brief shifts are handled with confidence, though Harriett keeps a close eye on him.

So the system is simple: Harriett is the full-time incubator; her mate is part-time backup and full-time fisherman. It’s efficient. It’s time-tested—thousands of years in the making.