The Osprey of West Haven

The weather ameliorates just in time – clean, dampish clothes are acquired – we head off – first to Bunnings – it would be useful to acquire some appropriate pieces of timber to replace the lid of the storage container under the table seat adjacent to my bunk! – getting into bed last night my left foot had imposed the full weight of my body upon the ageing particle board and the two had agreed to let one another past – it would be useful also to acquire some suitable exterior mats to limit the migration of dirt and grass remnants from shoe to floor – while the necessary acquisitions were being made the good tradespeople of Port Macquarie congratulated us upon the weather that we had brought with us to their fair city – we smile and agree -


Off we head the 50 kilometres or so south to West Haven enjoying the improving demeanour of the weather – in fact we rediscovered the sun after some considerable time – while people in Albury may well be familiar with it I should say that it was much as I remembered it – roundish, glaringly bright and in its present mood, gently warming – unfortunately the weather gods quickly moved their cloud troops into place and the sun was banished behind a moderate veil – a veil just transparent enough to let the inhabitants of the mid north coast know it existed but sufficiently opaque to render its existence of little comfort to them.

We arrive at West Haven – we sit with our good friend Ian in his dining room looking out through a wall of large bay windows past tall trees across his lake frontage to Queens Lake – we watch his Osprey friends endeavour to replace their season’s nest torn apart by a recent storm – this being their 6^th season in the immediate area, the seasonal storms have gradually reduced the number of dead branch sites on healthy trees that the Osprey prize for nest building – the sites that remain are either on an impossible flightpath from the water or are so small that the deposition of the sticks they use for nest building is practically impossible – they try and they try and they try – they execute wide arcs of graceful flight over the lake trailing sticks of 400 or 500mm grasped tightly in their talons only to land and attempt the balancing of their cargo on their chosen site – as soon as they place it, the stick falls to the ground – they head off again and repeat their endeavours over and over again – Like Ian we feel sorry for them – Ian worries that they will never be successful and may have to migrate away from this narrow territory commanded by his bay windows – “they had this problem last year” he says – “I hired an arborist to come in and place some dead branch segments in the tree and fashion them to provide some nesting sites” – “the arborists was excited about doing it” – “as he was up there the Osprey couple flew past seemingly acknowledging what he was trying to do for them” – “I am not sure if I should doing it again this year” - he says – “perhaps I should just let nature take its course!”

Ian takes us up to join the long weekend tourists at the lookout on North Brother Mountain in the Dooragan National Park only a few kilometres from the lake. We look out from North Brother towards his Middle Brother and his South Brother the three so named by Jimmy Cook so long ago – we move a little and look back over Laurieton and its surrounds – spectacular – what a delightful place to live! 

We return to sit at the bay windows again – Ian has not lost any of his skills either as a dining host or as a raconteur.

Time flies – follow Ocean Drive back to Port Macquarie – dine with our sister in law – catch up on old times – wonderful!