Fish Story

On finding an eel in my yard

At least, I think it’s an eel.

News of the Weird recently reported on a brush fire in Canada caused by an osprey dropping a fish onto a power line.

I’ll be honest, I think the osprey did it on purpose. They are beautiful birds, but not to be trusted.

This is based on past experience.

A few years ago I found an eel in my yard, missing its head. I wondered how it got there. Were we close to Halloween, was this some eccentric new prank popularized on TikTok?

If so, it was a subtle one, not at all like toilet-papering the trees. Just a dead eel, about ten inches long, lying inert between the garage and woods.

No, it had to be dropped by the osprey I’ve seen flying between the town woods and the Hudson River, a quarter-mile west of us. Ospreys eat fish almost exclusively. When they come back from the river to the woods—a flight path that takes them over our house—they are often carrying a fish.

Once an osprey sat in a tree across the street eating a fish for nearly an hour. It was a big fish, I was surprised the osprey had the strength to carry it. The fish was still wriggling. But the osprey didn’t let it fall. It was held fast, pierced by sharp talons.

So if the osprey in Canada dropped the fish, it did it on purpose. For some reason, it wasn’t the fish the osprey had hoped for, and the osprey chose the catch-and-release approach practiced by many anglers.

My osprey probably considered the eel’s head to be a delicacy, and discarded the rest. Tossed it into my yard, not respecting my property rights in the least. Littering, really.

So you can see that ospreys are birds with little—if any—respect for the common courtesies that make suburban life so pleasant. Nor do they pay taxes.

That said, they are absolutely gorgeous creatures, so who cares.

Just don’t get me started on chickadees.