A Nighttime Rescue: Saving an Osprey Through Compassion and Collaboration

By:  William E. Simpson II

Under the cloak of a moonless night, I navigated the treacherous, pothole-riddled Copco Road toward our remote ranch in Siskiyou County, California. The rugged path, battered by heavy traffic from dam-removal projects, posed constant risks to both travelers and wildlife. Suddenly, my headlights caught a small, solitary figure standing motionless in the middle of the road.

I eased my truck to a stop, squinting through the darkness. There, frozen in the glare of my high beams, stood a young osprey, its eyes wide with fear. I activated my emergency flashers, stepped out, and approached cautiously. Expecting to find an injured bird unable to fly, I was surprised to see no obvious wounds. Yet, standing exposed on this perilous road—frequented by speeding dam-removal contractors who often ignored the 35-mph speed limit and livestock warning signs—the osprey was in grave danger. A collision with a vehicle or an encounter with a coyote seemed all but inevitable.

Drawing on childhood memories of rescuing owls on our ranch, I retrieved a sheet from my truck and gently draped it over the osprey. The technique worked; the bird calmed under the cover, allowing me to carefully lift it from the road. At the ranch, I transferred the little raptor to a spacious dog crate, equipping it with clipped-on bowls of water and fresh Copper River salmon. To my relief, the osprey nibbled a few pieces and sipped some water. By then, midnight had passed, and I resolved to find help at first light.

The next morning, starting at 7:00 AM on August 13, 2025, I contacted every regional wildlife rescue I could find. Hours of calls yielded no promising leads. Then, at 12:30 PM, a call from a California Department of Fish and Wildlife (CDFW) representative interrupted an important meeting. Her tone was brusque, demanding we surrender the osprey immediately. When pressed about the bird’s fate, she chillingly replied it would be “dispatched”—euthanized. Unwilling to let the osprey’s rescue end in tragedy, I politely ended the call, determined to find a better solution.

Leaving a detailed voicemail with Shasta Wildlife Rescue’s “Raven,” I explained the situation and our hope to avoid the CDFW’s grim outcome. Minutes later, at 12:33 PM, Lieutenant Jake Nicholas, a CDFW warden, called. Unlike the previous caller, his tone was courteous, and he expressed genuine concern for the osprey. After a brief conversation—interrupted by my meeting—I promised to call him back. His follow-up text was polite, thanking us for our efforts to save the bird.

When I reconnected with Lieutenant Nicholas, his compassion and professionalism shone through. He offered to personally transport the osprey from Hornbrook to Shasta Wildlife Rescue in Anderson, California—a significant drive. We arranged to meet at the Hornbrook Chevron gas station. 

Right on time, Lieutenant Nicholas arrived in his CDFW law enforcement truck, uniformed and radiating sincerity. He inspected the osprey, clearly pleased to find it alert, fed, and well-cared-for. We carefully transferred the bird to his carrier, and I couldn’t resist asking for a quick selfie to mark the moment. With a warm thank-you, he sped off toward Anderson.

Later that evening, my phone pinged with a message from Lieutenant Nicholas: a photo of the osprey, safe at Shasta Wildlife Rescue, captioned, “Another satisfied customer.” 

His dedication and kindness were a testament to the best of public service, a shining example of what the California Department of Fish and Wildlife can represent. Through quick thinking, persistence, and collaboration, we turned a perilous night into a hopeful new chapter for one brave little osprey.

Thank You Lt. Nicholas!

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