The loon call echoes across Lac des Mille Lac and is answered by a loon on the other side. The two sounds resonate through the night air in a beautiful duet that echoes far and wide and is joined by another loon. Another joins the chorus and yet another until the entire night resonates with the lovely sounds of loon calls.
Walking back from the outhouse at 2 in the morning, I enjoy the loon concert. There are benefits to not having indoor plumbing. Otherwise I would be in the cabin on this cool night with closed windows shutting out the loon musical performance. Instead I have a front row seat to this exquisite experience.
I’d be the first to admit that I wouldn’t choose an outhouse over a gleaming white bathroom with hot and cold running water, but I’m glad I don’t have to make that decision. As things currently stand, running water isn’t an option, and I’m okay with that. You can’t have your cake and eat it too. If you love the outdoors and loons calling in the night, you’ll never experience them within the sheltered cocoon of modern life.
As I step out into the night, flashlight in hand, ready to get back to my warm bed, a bright patch of moonlight hits my eyes, and I realize the flashlight is unnecessary. I look up to see that a huge silver moon has risen and now hangs above the tall cedar and birches. It lights my path and shows details that would otherwise be hidden in the dark. Tree trunks, the wooden planks that make a footpath through the spring run-off, the siding on our cabin—all are highlighted by the silver brightness.
I stop and take it all in—the loons, the huge full moon, the pine spires black against the bright night sky. Soon the moon will move out of sight, continuing its path across the night sky, and the loon song will become silent. Nearby a single bird gives a breathy little whistle that competes not one bit with the loon songs, and I wonder where it is spending the night and why it’s calling in the dark.
I tarry for a moment until sleepiness overtakes me, and I have no more desire to do anything but slip back into my warm cot. After all, it is two in the morning. But before I open the cabin door, I take one more glance up the driveway and into the far reaches of the forest. I am looking for a specific sight.
Dick once had the experience of gazing right where I now look and seeing a pair of eyes glowing in the dark. He believed them to belong to an owl. Enviously I’ve wished to be privy to that sight and always give a final glance in that direction. Always, I am greeted by nothing but the silent dark forest, and tonight is no different.
But I have enjoyed the company of the loons and the full moon, so I slip back into bed satisfied.
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