Clare and Carl returned from their first paddle the other night with the news that they had seen a loon, the first of the season. They had not heard any calls, though.
Carl had to lean far out of the canoe to get this picture of the first loon of the spring.
Tonight, as I stepped out the door after finishing up my dinner dishes, I heard a haunting call from the north end of the lake. It drew me down to the canoe landing, where the water was very still under the sunset sky. A bird startled me as it took off from the bay at the south end of the lake where Sawbill Lodge stood, but in the dusk I couldn’t tell what it was. A few minutes later, it took flight again from the northernmost place in my line of sight, and this time I saw the telltale splash during takeoff, much like a plane on pontoons makes. As the sky faded to a pale peach, the loon came back and circled the south end of the lake. In a moment I heard another call. The Sawbill loons are back. -Molly.