The plaintive call of loons echoing down the lake is one of my favorite parts of northland summers. With windows wide open at night, I listen to the lovely sound echo down the lake and fade sweetly into the summer night.
Not this year. This year’s sounds are harsh and unmusical. This year’s resident loon is tone-deaf, has absolutely no musical talent. Its performances are few and far between, which is a blessing.
However, there is a louder bird hovering about. An eagle moved into my neighborhood several years ago, and this year has become quite vocal. Its strident screeches frequently fill the airwaves. At this time, all other bird chatter stops, and every chipmunk and red squirrel disappears. Usually the eagle keeps up its screeching for quite some time before settling down in a nearby large pine.
For many years I was enthralled by the sight of an eagle – until years ago when I brought home a puppy and had to make certain it didn’t become dinner for an eagle.
That was the beginning of the end of my fascination with eagles, but I still felt tolerant. Live and let live. However, another phenomenon was taking place. The local duck population was disappearing.
I’ve lived in the same place for almost 30 years, and until recently, mother and baby ducks abounded. They’d swim past the dock for most of the summer. Every year, a certain number of fluff-balls disappeared, taken by northern pikes or other predators, but their numbers stayed consistent.
No longer. Two years have passed since I watched a mother duck’s family disappear one by one until she finally swam past the dock alone. It didn’t endear me to our national symbol, but again, I told myself that this is nature’s way.
And I do believe that. However, a new worry has cropped up. A hooded merganser surrounded by a flock of little mergansers swam past the dock several days ago. The little ones swam so close they appeared as part of the mother duck. They alternately hopped on and off her broad back.
I don’t recall ever seeing a hooded merganser, and while I watched from afar, my daughter-in-law stood on the dock as this female with its unique looks, floated past with her family in tow.
Since then, I’ve done some research on this unusual duck. It lays its eggs in logs, stumps or even hollow trees, and the little ones have to jump out before they can traipse to a nearby lake, but they are strong swimmers from the get-go.
I haven’t heard the eagle’s cry since seeing Mama Merganser, and I hope it stays that way.
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