By JAMES DARCY
NAS Patuxent River Public Affairs Department

PATUXENT RIVER NAVAL AIR STATION, MD-There's an air of uncertainty around the boat as we approach what will come to be known as "the machine gun nest." Crewmen EN1 William Ledford and BM2 Kyle Riggin are about to get their first hands-on experience with pre-fledgling ospreys - "baby" birds nonetheless equipped with inch-long talons resembling polished, black meat hooks.

We are aboard a thirty-foot platform boat from Naval Air Station Patuxent River's Boat House, closing on a large nest perched atop a cluster of pilings in the air station's West Patuxent Basin. This is the first of almost 50 osprey nests we will visit today under the direction of Steve Cardano, director of activities at Nanjemoy Creek Environmental Education Center. In the previous two days, Cardano and his associates have surveyed scores of nests on the river's upper reaches.

This particular nest is unique, however, because of the toy machine gun jutting out of the side of the sturdy branch construction.

"Ospreys like to collect ornamentals to incorporate in their nests," Cardano explains. Over the three decades in which he has been surveying osprey nests along the Patuxent River, he has found some strange items in nests, but this may be the winner.

BMC Thomas Truitt, lead chief petty officer of the boat house, steers the boat up to the pilings and pulls the throttles to idle as Ledford and Riggin tie on. An adult osprey flies off the nest with screams of protest, and Cardano sets up a ladder and climbs the six feet or so to the top of the pilings. Inside the nest are three young birds, which he carefully lifts out and hands down the ladder. Cardano is a licensed professional with three decades of experience to guide him, and he has instructed us on exactly how to handle these delicate, yet dangerous, creatures.

The first to take a bird is Jim Swift, a Pax River natural resources manager and coordinator of the station's Bird-Aircraft Strike Hazard (BASH) program. Next is Ledford, while Riggin picks up the log book in which the day's data will be recorded. Cardano returns to the boat and begins his work.

Around each bird's right leg he fits one of the numbered metal bands provided by the United States Geological Survey's (USGS) Bird Banding Laboratory in Laurel, Md. The band numbers go into the log, along with the age and location of the bird, for later entry into the lab's massive database of all banding data for bird species in the United States. Reports of band sitings go back to the lab, providing insight into migration, mating, life and death. Riggin also records the nest location and type, as well as the number of young.

The work is done quickly and the ospreys are returned to their home - one nest down and the entire lower Patuxent River to go. It's only ten minutes into the morning and Swift has already had his blood initiation; while he gently restrained one of the six-week-old ospreys, it found an exposed portion of his thumb and demonstrated how effectively raptors can tear into prey with their beaks.

Swift isn't taking it personally. As BASH coordinator, he has learned that coexistence with the hundreds of bird species that live or migrate around the air station comes with certain perils - not least of which is that a mid-air collision between a jet and even a small bird can down the aircraft. It is for precisely this reason that he is out here today, assisting in the effort to gain greater insight into osprey population trends and movements in the area.

"The object of BASH is to allow the Navy to accomplish its flying mission with reduced threat of bird strikes," he says. "You reduce the hazard by being aware of what's out there and what's going on with them." To this end, he and his fellow natural resources managers spend much of their time traversing Pax River's 8,700 acres gathering intelligence. From October through April, for instance, the Office of Natural Resources conducts weekly waterfowl surveys, plotting trends in species concentrations and relaying the information to the Air Operations Department.

In the case of the ospreys, Cardano has almost 30 years of data on population trends, compiled through surveys and banding trips such as today's. With 20 osprey nests on the air station alone and thousands of ospreys living in the Chesapeake Bay watershed, the information Cardano can provide is worth its weight in aircraft aluminum.

This year was almost a loss, however. Cardano must band the birds when they are five to seven weeks old, big enough for the bands but too young to fly away. With the right time of year upon him, his boat went down for repairs, and it looked as if he would not be able to survey the lower Patuxent.

When the air station command got wind of his predicament, they volunteered the use of a craft and crew from the boat house, salvaging this year's study. According to Tim Smith, executive director of the air station, understanding the avian population of the region can save time and money as well as aircrew lives. "We have millions of birds flying through our area. If I know what the ospreys or the eagles or the geese are doing at a particular time of year, I can steer our programs to different areas to avoid disruptions."

There is also the issue of environmental stewardship, which is clearly more than just a catchphrase to Smith and the command. "People forget that we're not just the Navy; we're the citizens of the county and the state. We live here, we play here, and our families enjoy the natural resources here. … We're here for life, and we want to treat this place accordingly."

As we proceed from nest to nest, moving up stream from the mouth of the river, it's apparent that the Sailors share this same sense of ownership. Between nests they point out favorite fishing spots, ask Cardano questions about the ecosystem, and swap stories with Swift about the ospreys they have observed on station. Everyone aboard gets into the bird-handling act, under the licensed guidance of master bander Cardano.

The community is watching as well. Slung on the sides of the boat are signs declaring "Osprey Research," but we nonetheless attract the attention of residents along both shorelines, who come out in their yards or on their docks to make sure no one is harming "their" osprey. Some recognize Cardano and report to him on the activity of nearby nests. Often, these people have driven pilings and constructed platforms expressly to provide ideal osprey nest locations.

"You meet a lot of really interesting people doing this," Cardano says. "You all share a common interest, so you always hit it off."

We even get a visit from a police boat, wanting to make sure we have a legitimate purpose for impinging on the osprey nests. Once we make our introductions, the officer asks for Cardano's phone number; the river patrol sometimes encounters injured ospreys, and Cardano promises to refer the officer to a wildlife rehabilitation center.

We wind up doing some rehabilitation of our own. At two nests, we find osprey chicks entangled in fishing line. Just the day before, Cardano and his peer Greg Kearns had rescued an entangled osprey on the upper Patuxent. These chicks are younger and more severely bound, however. Swift uses his knife to carefully trim away the line. One bird is not too badly off, but the other has lost circulation in its strangled leg, and the limb has died. Cardano amputates the leg to minimize the risk of infection. The chick never flinches, having long since lost feeling in the limb. The chick may survive, or may not. It is too young to live without its mother, so it is best left in the nest.

Despite these moments of drama, it is an encouraging day. Many nests have produced three healthy young, and one even has four chicks, almost ready to fledge. There haven't been any more human injuries, either, though Swift has had an angry mother bird dive to within a few feet of his head. It's a wonder that Cardano has any flesh left on his hands after years of this work, but he has the casual manner of an expert when handling the ospreys - someone quips that he is "the bird whisperer."

Then he tells the story about the time a red-tailed hawk buried its talons into the palm of his hand. Raptors, he explains, can not open their talons when their legs are fully extended. This ensures a firm grasp when they snatch up prey, and also means that the best way to get a hawk - or osprey - out of your hand is to gently bend its legs. We all take due note of this fact.

At the end of the day we have banded 32 birds but surveyed many more nests than that, bringing Cardano and Kearns' three-day total to 125 surveyed nests and 138 banded ospreys. The day's duties fall well outside the ratings of these or any Sailors, but they're already talking about "next year."

In days or weeks, the adolescent ospreys of the Patuxent River will take flight for the first time. The mother of one brood will lead her children from the nest to a nearby salt pond, which happens to be on Smith's property. Every year the ritual is the same, as osprey parents and fledglings use this sheltered spot for what Smith describes as flight training. "When I go home and I look at my chicks," he says paternally, "I know that they are here at least in part because we are doing something right."

-USN-