The Loon Family

For the second year in a row, I am seeing a baby loon.  Did I just not look in the past? It would seem so.  Awareness of my surroundings is key to seeing the daily adventures and events unfold.  Raising kids and running a business probably kept me too preoccupied.  But now, I am learning to listen and watch for the signals.  So it was on Monday morning. As I drank my coffee, I could hear the loons calling frequently down in front.  I figured that it might mean something important in loon language, so I grabbed my binoculars to investigate. 

Sure enough, just off of the point, there was an adult loon and a little one.  The baby was big enough to be swimming on its own, and the adult would periodically go underwater in search of breakfast.  Soon a second adult surfaced, so here was the whole family.  I came back up to the lodge to get my camera, and to let Greg know what was happening. 

For the next several minutes we watched as the family went about their business, fishing and feeding the little dude.  The sky was overcast, and the waters were calm.  It made for rather drab photographs, but I didn't care.  It was such a delight to have a front row seat to the show.  I think I may have learned something about loons in that time, too. 

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It was the usual loon calls that first alerted me to the family's presence.  Then I got to hear the little noises that the adult would make to the baby when it was being fed.  At one point, one adult was several hundred yards down the lake.  The custodial parent called a few times, and suddenly the wanderer surfaced.  I saw this happen a few times, so it made me think that perhaps they can hear each other underwater.   

One thing I don't know is if it was the mama or the papa that predominantly stayed with the baby.  Initially I kept referring to the mama and the baby, but then stood corrected when it was pointed out to me that both parents participate throughout the brooding, hatching and raising of the baby.  Old habits die hard, I guess.  At any rate, until I figure out how to identify a male from a female loon, I guess I will be referring to them as "it".  Good lesson in co-parenting! 

Watching Spring Unfold

The past month, traditionally when the weather turns warmer and the leaves and plants burst forth, I’ve been driving.  A family situation has often taken me away from home, and so I have watched the progress of the season from afar.  In reflecting on this, I find that it is very comforting to know that even while my life takes new turns and directions, the ways of nature remain constant.

We all know what a slow spring it has been.  The month of June has arrived, and the leaves are still not fully out.  My tulips are finally blooming.  Lilacs?  Probably won’t happen from my bush this year.  I have seen them in parts south of us.  But at that, it still seemed to be on a later schedule than the one that I remember from my life in the city so many decades ago.  Our northwest wind continues to blow, keeping the air temperature in the forties, as it skims its way across the cold waters of the lake.  The fishermen have kept me abreast of water temperatures, and the big lake currently seems to match that forty-something air. 

I’ve learned that even though spring isn’t happening on my preferred timetable, it still is progressing.  The familiar colors of chartreuse and lively greens are beginning to show as a brushstroke on the landscape. Soon that will turn to the deeper shade more akin to summer.  The birds are busy with nest-building and egg-laying.  The early breeders are bringing out their new young ones.  I recently spotted an immature blue jay in the pine tree, watchful parents nearby.  I’ve heard that the new crop of grey jays is out learning what it means to be a camp robber.  And the raven papa has stopped coming in for hand-outs. That tells me that his babies are now out and about learning to forage.  I imagine we will meet them one day soon, and the raucous babble of these adult-size juveniles will fill the early morning quiet.  (Much to Paul’s chagrin, I might add.)

As I say, the constant pattern repeating itself can be very calming.  Recently, I spent some moments on the banks of a river, far from here.  I noticed turtles on a log, sunning themselves.  Ducks were swimming by, including a new family of little ones.  A tree had been chewed nearly through by an energetic beaver.  All of these things were so familiar to me, and while I was processing the news and the situation I was in at the moment, it was really helpful to see that nature continues on in her patient way, doing what needs to be done no matter what the calendar says.  Some years it will move faster, some years not.  But the process will remain somewhat predictable.  I like that.  It really helps me, always, to spend time outside. Now it seems more important than ever.  It’s another lifeline that helps me to clear my mind, to think, and to reflect.  I am so privileged to live where I do.

Ice Out Time Lapse Video

Now that the ice is out, and the scurry of docks is over, we have time to process some of the videos we took.  It was an exciting exit this year for those great big chunks.  You saw my pictures last week of it all piling up on shore.  Most of that has melted away, with just small heaps left.  Today we have a strong northeast wind, stirring up the waters with huge waves. I watched them crash over the rocks at Diamond Willow cabin a little while ago.  Amazing what the wind can do.​

​Greg made a time-lapse video with our Go Pro that we want to share.  He set the camera on a tripod at the beach last Wednesday, and left it for several  hours.  ​He set the camera to take a photo every 30 seconds, and then compiled the 612 shots into this video.  If you watch closely (a bigger screen view helps), at about the 15-second mark, the ice starts to pile up on the point.  It was really something to see, and we recorded it with other cameras, too.  When we have those edited, we will post them as well.

Basically, what happened at that moment was the large, central mass of ice broke loose and began to move down to the east.  It was like the lake had turned into a river, and the edges of our large ice pile were being pushed higher by the moving mass.  In turn, it would crumble and fall from the top, in a slow-motion cascade.  We haven't seen anything quite like this before.  Shortly after it started, it stopped.  We surmised that the large sheet had hit an immoveable sheet down the lake.  The really good thing that it did was to start breaking it all up into smaller pieces, which ultimately led to a faster ice out.​ At that, it still seems like it took forever!

Time-lapse movie of ice going out on May 15. Watch for the main sheet of ice making a big run at the 15-second mark. Big hunks of ice begin to pile up on the shoreline. Final ice out date was May 17th. Video was recorded over a five-hour time period at Heston's Lodge.

Opening Weekend

Despite the fact that the fishing opener was actually one week ago, today is our opening day.  A little thing like lack of open water really can screw things up!  Of course, all that changed when the winds and the weather came into our favor the last two days.  Ice-free lake, docks into the water, boats rolling off of trailers down at the landing.  And today----fishermen finally out on Gunflint Lake.​

When I first moved up here, twenty-seven years ago, the big question leading up to the fishing opener was always, "Are you ready yet?"  My answer varied, depending on where I was at in my work stages.  Over time, the simplest answer turned out to be like a phrase from Hide 'n' Seek:  Ready or not, here it comes!  And so, here we are, open and ready for business.​

Too soon for flowers.​

I love the anticipation and hopeful feeling that comes at this time of the year.  Like choosing seeds to plant in a garden or going through the tackle box to assess the best lure to try, it ​all brings on the feeling of the possibilities that lie ahead. We've made it through the winter, and now we are excited to leap into all that summer can bring. 

Paul at work.​