It's quiet here in our little cottage in a small fishing village on Maine's scenic coast. Life slows down. Heck, as a kid, we only dialed 4 digits to call anyone else on the peninsula. TV came through the air, so being on a steep hill, that meant it never came to us. No TV. Very dark nights. Lots of Monopoly.
But times change. We had to go to the standard 7-digit telephone dialing plan. And satellite TV arrived, bringing, well, TV.
And finally cell phones. They built a tower we could actually see from our front porch, but strangely, no cell service. This bore looking into. And there it was - an Osprey had promptly built a nest atop it and as a protected species, they couldn't have us uncaring citified folks from away bombarding Osprey chicks with evil cell phone rays.
So, for two years, there it stood - a million-dollar condo for a bird. I have no proof of this, but winters are long here and a lot of people around here have guns. All I know is that we now have great cell service.
Maybe Osprey poop is a conductor.
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