Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Loon Lake

Yesterday's ramble was one of our regular October potterings around Dalhousie Lake to check on the progress of the autumn migration and try to establish what birds remain on the lake - this weekend, we were primarily interested in mergansers, grebes, Canada geese, herons and loons.

The lake was quiet, and a long time resident told us that the great herons had arisen and departed a few weeks ago, around the time that their principal diet of little green frogs disappeared from the shallows for the season. I thought of a beloved friend who passed away this summer, and of the love of herons we shared - whenever I encountered a great (or small) heron in my travels, I shared the news and tucked in photos too.

There were several large flights of Canada geese over the lake during our visit yesterday, but judging by the low altitudes of the various skeins, the birds were local residents, and not northern migrants flying high and riding air currents southward.

Northern Ontario is well on its way to freezing up entirely and flocks of northern Canadas have been passing overhead for weeks now - the birds are traveling at such a high altitude that they can hardly be seen against the blue, and their resonant voices are only a whisper on the wind. Canada geese are wonderfully strong fliers, and when they harness the impressive power of a good southbound air current, they can cover 2,400 km (1,500 miles) in 24 hours: 100 km (or approximately 60 miles) per hour. That is what I call traveling, and there is no petrol involved in the exercise whatsoever.

We didn't see any mergansers or grebes yesterday, but there are many quiet coves on the lake, and I think there are probably still quite a few of the handsome creatures in residence - I thought I heard them from time to time.

It was delightful to discover that there are still a few loons on the lake though. I had assumed that they were long gone, and I couldn't resist doing a lurching dance on the shoreline when I saw the first one. These photos are either (a) an immature bird (less than three years of age), or (b) an adult bird which has already morphed into its winter plumage and no longer views the world through sparkling ruby red eyes. My apologies for the quality of these two images - the dear little loon (loonling???) was clear across the lake when I saw it.

The name notwithstanding, there is absolutely nothing common about our magnificent local loons, and I have always preferred their other name: the Great Northern Diver. Loons are poetry in motion on their summer waters, and in the depths of winter, their farewell songs haunt my dreams. I shall be sad when they have departed.

5 comments:

Tabor said...

I also find seeing a loon rewarding. We don't get as many down this way as I say in Canada on a canoe camping trip many years ago. One small loon even sought shelter near our canoe during a downpour.

Sorrow said...

Sometimes I peek is a gift in itself...
Thanks for the share...
I swear i can hear them...
:)

Lil said...

living in southern ON, i always associate the loon with being in cottage country. yet, the other day when we were at a local beach, wouldn't you know it, i spotted those beautiful divers...but wasn't close enough to gift their sighting to my daughter...and here they are! thank you cate...

xo
lil

Sky said...

i saw my first loons in new england. they were swimming in the waters off sorrento, maine on an early, misty september morning. it was thrilling.

Anonymous said...

I have loved loons since watching the movie,"On Golden Pond",and hearing the calling of the loons I fell in love. Living, at that time in Florida, I know nothing of loons. I wish some day to stand on the lake shore and hear the smooth calling of the loons.

Modron/Sandi