From the Rector…
The sand was so hot this weekend that Sweet Petunia kept hopping from one back paw to the other as she sniffed a fish carcass—thankfully, she didn’t roll in it! The whole neighborhood felt the heat. It wasn’t just the sun warming things up—there was tension in the skies too.
On either side of the Frazer beach house are Osprey nests. These majestic birds have ruled the skies over Bear Point for years. After the BP oil spill, my father-in-law saw one of the birds emerge from the water with oil on its feathers. He called the hotline, and within an hour, wildlife teams arrived to rescue, clean the birds, and relocate them to Tampa Bay. Two years later, the Osprey found their way back home.
Hurricane Sally brought new challenges. Every pier was wiped out, along with the nesting platform. The Osprey survived, nesting temporarily in trees until the platform was rebuilt. The second platform was later added, and now more Osprey than ever soar above the bay.
Each summer, fledglings are born. If you’re lucky, you can catch a glimpse of them nestled in the safety of the nest. The parents guard them fiercely—one always watching the nest while the other fishes. Osprey mate for life, and their partnership is marked by mutual care and constant communication.
Our pine tree, situated between the two nests, often hosts the Osprey at mealtime—which explains the fish remnants on our beach. It’s also a favorite perch of Fred, a well-known heron around Orange Beach. Normally, Fred and the Osprey maintain a sort of tentative truce. But this weekend, the peace was broken.
Cutty and I were swimming at the pier when we heard loud, angry squawks overhead. At first, I figured Mom and Dad Osprey were bickering over whose turn it was the kids. Then I noticed that the Osprey weren’t gliding as usual; one was diving with purpose into the tree line, flapping his wings in an aggressive manner and squawking loudly. That’s when I spotted Fred, perched high in a nearby oak, perfectly positioned with a direct line of sight to the nest. The Osprey weren’t squabbling—they were defending their young, still too small to fly and completely dependent. The fledglings were vulnerable, and Fred’s presence was a threat.
The standoff lasted longer than I expected. Fred, stubborn as ever, refused to budge. No matter how many times the Osprey flew at him—wings flapping in his face, screeching their warning—he wouldn’t leave. Then something remarkable happened. The young Osprey, a new parent, cried out more urgently—and was joined by an older bird from the original nest who swooped in to help. Two generations, united in purpose. At last, faced with the determined pair, Fred squawked and gave up his perch. The Osprey had prevailed.
As I watched, I was struck by the beauty of loyalty. These birds didn’t attack out of habit or pride, but out of love—for their vulnerable young. When the least among them were threatened, they rose together.
There’s something sacred about loyalty, especially when it’s rooted in care for the vulnerable. As I watched the “Battle of Bear Point” unfold, I was struck by this truth: when we stand together for those who cannot stand for themselves, there is strength. I’ve never seen the Osprey pick a fight with Fred before. They’ve shared trees and fished the same waters in peace. But when Fred became a threat to the least of these—their helpless young—they rose together in defense.
In a world where so many are voiceless and vulnerable, I hope we too find the courage to stand together—to protect, to defend, and to love.
Light and Life,
Candice Frazer+