After a hot first day at Global Birdfair, a few hours aboard the Rutland Belle felt like the perfect escape. There’s usually a bit of a breeze out on the water, and that evening it was very welcome.
Scott and I sat at the back of the boat with a really friendly couple and soon got chatting. I love that part of these trips. People share what they’ve seen and where they’ve been, and you come away with more places to add to your ever-growing list.
For roughly the first half-hour, things were fairly quiet. Then, suddenly, lapwings and gulls went whoosh into the sky, scattering in all directions.
“I think that means there’s a raptor about,” I said to Scott.
There was something tense about all that movement, as though something dramatic was about to happen. I scanned the sky, and then I saw it.
An osprey!
Being at the back of the boat turned out to be handy. We had a clear view as it flew past, and I got the camera onto it.
I had pre-capture switched on, so my excited reaction resulted in a few hundred photographs. That familiar feeling of “Oh! An osprey! Keep clicking!” followed by the prospect of sorting through hundreds of distant blobs in the sky.
But watching it fly past was incredible, whatever was on the memory card.
The crew said they would try heading in the same direction. Naturally, the osprey then decided to fly the other way.
By the time we reached another spot, the sun was getting lower. Someone called out that another osprey had been seen. I think there were three birds in the end, although I lost track a little with all the excitement.
Then one flew by carrying a fish in its talons.
This was the moment that stayed with me. Its wings were lifted, its legs stretched down towards the fish, and the whole pose looked so powerful.
It reminded me of one of those old black-and-white adventure films I remember watching—something like Sinbad, where a mighty bird suddenly flies into the scene. There was that same almost prehistoric quality about it. A little dramatic, perhaps, but that’s honestly what came into my head as I watched.
As it adjusted its catch, the poses kept changing. I kept taking photographs.
I’m still chasing that photograph of an osprey scooping a fish from the water. But here was another step towards it: a bird in focus, carrying its catch, with a pose I loved.
After the last sighting, we headed back to shore very happy. We’d had around four osprey sightings, lovely company and a few hours out of the heat.
And somewhere among those hundreds of photographs, I had my mighty bird.