The days move quietly now.
Time is passing—slowly, exactly as planned.
Incubation continues. Thirty-five to forty days. A system eons in the making.
Harriett takes in her surroundings. The wind has shifted southwest. A warm breeze ruffles her feathers and draws faint ripples across the water. The river moves with the tide—steady, predictable.
She remains alert, settled over her eggs, turning them carefully from time to time. Nothing is rushed.
Her mate arrives on schedule. Fish in hand. Today, a good one. Deliveries have improved.
Harriett accepts and is pleased.
Below, the Homo sapiens return, as they do. Cameras ready. Voices lowered.
“They have returned,” Harriett observes with quiet confidence.
She looks down briefly, then back out across the water.
Routine holds.
Everything is proceeding as planned.
Osprey Tales 