For several days, this has been the routine:
Kennon releases the osprey from the mews and the bird flies to his tripod perch, then Kennon takes the golf cart to the upper lake. From there, he whistles for Orville: one whistle every few seconds means “come here, there is a tidbit on the perch” while two quick whistles mean “come to the glove for a whole fish.” Orville knows the difference. If Kennon uses the single whistle call, the bird leisurely takes off and soars upwards, eventually cruising to the upper lake where he circles the water with his head bent, hunting, but usually with no successful dives. He soon lands on the roof-top perch on the golf cart for the tidbits. Sometimes he flies back to the lower lake and sits on his tripod perch. The whole process can be repeated several times. With emphatic two-whistles-at-a-time calling, he will fly directly to the glove (with its whole fish), and the session is over.
But last Monday afternoon, the osprey was circling high above the water, and suddenly wheeled over and dove near the far shore. He emerged clutching a small bream between his talons! He circled and then flew south, landing on his perch at the lower lake. Kennon moseyed toward him, intending to trade off the bream for a fish from the freezer. He got within a foot and watched him eat, but as he moved in to retrieve the fish, Orville would have none of it. He took to the air with his prize and landed on the telephone pole near the house. Orville remained at that safe distance until he’d eaten half his catch. Surprisingly, he then flew down to the glove clutching his half-eaten fish.