Everyone who lives near the water or gets out on a boat is probably familiar with the plaintive chirp of the osprey and its gull-like profile soaring above lakes and rivers.

Recall the last time you passed a day beacon. If it was topped with a large pile of sticks, it was most likely occupied by a nesting pair of osprey (the birds are partial to the signal's red hue).

Osprey, also known as sea hawks, are fish-eating birds of prey, which can grow large enough to accommodate a 6-foot wingspan. They have adapted well to the changes imposed on them by the profusion of boats, marinas and houses that today crowd their erstwhile habitats. So well, in fact, that if you're not careful, you might find your boat or dock the unwitting springtime host to love-struck birds, as I recently found my Catalina 34, Ukiyo.

ROBERT BERINGERThe author found the second nest on the foredeck and the droppings scattered evenly around the cockpit and mainsail.BIG BIRD

When we first moved to a mooring on a creek near Annapolis, I smiled when I saw an osprey circle above us"”it felt good to be so close to nature and its myriad creatures. But the smile quickly faded from my face as the bird touched down on its enormous nest built on the foredeck of the boat moored next to ours; a couple juveniles screeched for their father's catch. Of course the decks were covered in offal and guano"”I wondered aloud what the owner's reaction would be when he finally got out for a sail.

I spotted 14 of the birds that day flying in lazy circles above our boats. Each time we left, I carefully put our inflatable snake on deck, and the birds let us be for the season.

Still it was no surprise when I paddled out to our mooring last spring and saw that a couple osprey had chosen Ukiyo's solar panel to build a nest and continue the great circle of life. When I contacted the marina staff, they were very sympathetic. This was a common problem for the moored boats and they proffered some helpful tips to help shoo the birds away.

But a call to the U.S. Department of Agriculture's Wildlife Service yielded the cold-hard facts: the osprey, while not endangered, is protected under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act. Removing its eggs or disturbing fledging birds in a nest can result in a hefty fine"”or even jail time. Pre-egg nests, however, are not protected, and I was encouraged to use whatever reasonable means to "discourage" the birds from turning Ukiyo into a rookery.

ROBERT BERINGERConsider the last time you passed a day beacon; if it was topped with a large pile of sticks, it was most likely occupied by a nesting pair of ospreys.HALF TON, NO FUN

A trip to the library to learn more about these avian interlopers only fueled my concern. According to Peterson's "Birds of Prey," "Ospreys [pandion haliaetus to you ornithologists] often choose a tall tree or other high spot near water for their nest"¦The same nesting site may be added to year after year eventually becoming a huge pile of sticks that weighs up to a ½ ton."

The book went on to describe the birds' fierce resolve in defending their nests, their sharp talons and voracious appetite for fish. I had read enough. I've got nothing against wildlife and I want to see native species thrive, but my boat is not their native habitat, it belongs to me and Bank of America.

I admit that the first round went to the birds: a week after I cleared off their nest, put out the blow-up snake and strung glittering party favors around the affected area, they returned with a vengeance and rebuilt with gusto. The nest was bigger and better than before. I queried someone at West Marine about the dilemma. "Yeah," he mused, "those ospreys can be real persistent. One boat owner told us that they would perch on the plastic owl that he put out."

Many boats around the Chesapeake carry the "scare eye" in their spreaders, a balloon that resembles a hawk and frightens small birds. But the osprey is not a small bird. I was told by more than one sailor that the birds attacked the eye and deflated it.

THE OSPREY ZONE

Again I cleared the nest, and made a point to hang around for the afternoon doing some spring projects. I slept aboard that night in case the ospreys had plans to sneak aboard under cover of darkness. Paranoid you say? Hardly.

The morning dawned cool, clear"”with the beginnings of a new osprey nest on the bimini! This was getting personal.

Was it love that was driving this saga? All morning the male flew back and forth from the shore with large sticks in his talons, the female chirping reproachfully on a nearby masthead, pushing him until he either finished the nest or dropped dead in the process. Ah, the bliss of marriage.

I had to think of something that would dissuade the determined nest-builders. I removed the solar panel and bimini. Their nesting platform gone, I hoped they would revert to the nearby trees.

Osprey have a big appetite for fish, so they are common at marinas and moorings.But I returned a week later and the birds had turned the entire boat into an outhouse; the nest this time was on the foredeck and the droppings scattered evenly around the cockpit and mainsail. Approaching in the dinghy, the female eyeballed me from the spreaders before flying off to tell her mate that the honeymoon would be delayed yet again. I was running out of ideas to deal with this.

I scrubbed for half a day and removed most of the guano, then took my case directly to the marina manager. "Oh," he said, "you're the guy with the osprey problem. Any luck?" I explained my plight and requested that he move me to another mooring, which he did. I took the boat out for a weekend sail, praying that the birds would forget about me and move on, but when we grabbed the new mooring, not five minutes went by before a bird landed on the stern rail"”I was dumbfounded. These birds just would not go away.

Short of abandoning the prepaid mooring, I had just one card left to play: A neighboring sailor had noticed my problem and suggested running fishing line around the boat. "Spooks the birds," he said. "They won't land if they think they're gonna get tangled up." So I ran a line from shroud to pulpit, and from mast to wheel. The birds would now have to tip toe between the lines if they wanted it bad enough. A week, two weeks, and a month went by, and the deck of Ukiyo remained birdless.

And so they're gone for now, put ashore to seek another choice spot for mating. We're free to ride the wind and to seek out new anchorages on the Bay. But every time I hear that "chirp-chirp," I dash up the companionway looking for sticks on the solar panel.