The osprey are back. I saw two over the marsh by the side of the road this afternoon. They were the first I’ve seen since, well, I’m not exactly sure when. 

I was driving back from physical therapy. It’s finally time to address the lingering hip pain I’ve had since my last race. It took place around the time that the osprey left.

The osprey spend about half the year here and half the year in the Amazon basin. I wouldn’t mind doing the same. The birds fly 2,000 miles south, navigating from one body of water to the next -- that is, from one dinner spot to the next. On average they travel about 100 miles a day. Osprey are often called fish hawks because they’re one of the only bird species whose diet consists almost solely of live fish. Sitting on the beach in the summer you can watch them hunt over the ocean. As the birds fly back to their nest with dinner, a fish occasionally wriggles free from their talons and ends up in your front yard. It’s a bit alarming to find a fish in your front yard.  

The osprey nest in the tops of dead trees in the salt march that stretches along my favorite trail. The temperature crept up to 70 degrees today and the sun stayed up until after 6pm, so I laced up and went for a short run to test out the rehabbed hip. The body felt a little creeky and there was entirely too much heavy breathing for the pace and distance of the run. I thought of the ospreys’ return to the park, and my own.

The seasons are changing. There’s a sense of return about. How about you? What are you coming back to?