Thursday, June 17, 2010 5:57am CDT

 

56 degrees   High Scattered Clouds   Wind S  2mph

 

The 'flying tremolo' of one of the loons echoes through the still, crisp morning air.

It is always so good to hear 'our' loons!

The 'flying tremolo' is the only call that a loon makes while in flight.  And even though the tremolo call is normally an alarm call, when made while flying it is not an alarm.  I am not sure I can even explain the differences between a normal tremolo call and a flying tremolo call.  But there they are.

Yesterday I spent  a good share of the day at the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources (DNR) and also at the Wildlife Rehabilitation Center of Minnesota.  [For those of you who thought you heard me finally getting a chance to mow the lawn down by the lake yesterday afternoon, nope, that must have been some of the neighbors.  But I did get a chance to mow it last night and yes, it was VERY long!]

Now the DNR has both of the eggs in their hands.  Hopefully, we will hear the results of the x-rays in a few days.  

We are also discussing several other intriguing possibilities.

The Wildlife Rehabilitation Center of Minnesota (WRCM) is the organization actually doing the x-rays.  They are a great group.  They were the group who tried to save a loon last fall that had frozen into the ice in northern Minnesota.  Unfortunately, they were not able to save that loon.  

And about a month ago, two loons were flown to the  WRCM from the Gulf of Mexico.  They were able to help that pair and release them into the wild.

Speaking of the Gulf of Mexico, let's talk about that subject.  It is a heavy subject for a beautiful summer morning like this, but one that needs to be talked about.

Even as our loons enjoy this beautiful, sunny Minnesota summer morning, the oil continues to spew into the Gulf of Mexico from the oil spill.  It is more than an oil 'spill'.  Someone has called it the "Gusher in the Gulf" and that is more accurate.  The amount of oil that has already come out of the well is hard to fathom.  And there seems to be no end in sight.  Blame can be placed later and finding out what happened can wait for another day.  The urgency now is to stop the flow.

Many of you have wondered about its effect on loons.

Obviously for 'our' loons and tens of thousands of other adult loons, there is absolutely no effect.  Yet!

All of the adult loons were off the Gulf and on their way north long before the tragic accident destroyed the oil drilling rig and so many lives along with it.

So they are fine and out of harm's way.

But what concerns me the most right now is what is happening to thousands of immature loons who are on the Gulf right now.  Including the chicks that were hatched on this very nest in the last three years!

As you will remember, the young loons fly south about a month after the adults in the fall.  And then amazingly, they do not fly north with the adults the next spring!  In this case, if only they had!!

The young stay on the Gulf of Mexico or the Atlantic Coast for the first two to three years before they ever fly back north again!

So it is those young loons who are potentially in danger right now on the Gulf of Mexico.

I have not heard any definitive reports of any loons being injured by the oil spill so far.  But I cannot believe that there have not been some.  Possibly even some of the chicks that we watched so lovingly in the last couple years!  The sense of helplessness is profound.  All we can do is watch and wait.

And hope!

But I am also concerned about the adults that are here now, including the pair that we have so lovingly watched for the last month.  Because in October or November, they will make there way to either the Gulf of Mexico or the Atlantic Coast.  [Loons from New England and eastern Canada tend to go to the Atlantic Coast off New England and loons from west of the Rockies in both the US and Canada tend to go to the California Coast.]

And they do not have a clue what awaits them there.  Nor do we at this point.  We can only hope that the Gusher in the Gulf has been stopped by then and that much of the cleanup has been done.

If there is still a lot of oil in the water in November, many of the loons that are here now are in danger.  Both adults and chicks.  So we can only watch and wait and pray.

If a loon's feathers become oil soaked, they loose there ability to repel water and keep the loon warm.  So the loon either drowns or potentially dies from hypothermia.

Yesterday I heard one of the nation's most respected meteorologists talking about the threat of hurricanes this year.  That has been one of the big questions about what happens with the oil spill if there is a hurricane.  Most of what I have heard everyone talk about so far is that hurricanes will increase the damage from the oil spill.

This particular meteorologist felt that the opposite may be true.  He said that you can think of a hurricane as a huge blender.  He felt that a hurricane might actually help to alleviate some of the effects of the oil spill by 'blending' it and diffusing it.  It still would not be good but his feeling was that it would make the concentrations low enough that nature could more readily 'eat it' and that animals could more easily tolerate the lower levels of concentration.

I 'want' to believe him.  Oh, how I want to believe him.  But we will not know until it happens.  He is predicting 3 or 4 hurricanes to hit this area this summer and fall.  How good would that be if nature dilutes some of the oil before all the loons and other migratory birds get down there later this fall!

But on this beautiful day, we know that thousands of loons in Minnesota and the 'north country' are well.  And are enjoying this beautiful morning.  Thunderstorms could develop later today here, but for now it is like a picture postcard.

A lake.  Sunshine.  Calling birds.  And Loons!!

Almost heaven!

 

Wednesday, June 16, 2010 5:55am CDT

 

59 degrees     Foggy    Calm

 

What a difference a day makes!

Where yesterday there sat a beautiful loon, today there is only a pile of cattails and other weeds.

From life to lifeless.

There is still a certain beauty to the loon nest but it is totally different than it was just 24 hours ago.  Even though we knew that there was no egg left on the nest yesterday and therefore there was no hope of a new loon chick this year, we still had our loon.

The beautiful, faithful loon that we had come to love.

Now there is a sense of melancholy when we look at the nest.

Somewhere out in the banks of fog that cover the lake this morning, our pair of loons are going on with their lives.  A single call of a loon comes through the thick fog to let us know that they are still there.  That haunting call that changes everything!  That stands out so distinctively from all the other sounds.  From all the other birds.

The call that stirs something deep within us.  Something almost primeval.

That brings back memories of a childhood in a cabin on a northern lake.  Or memories of a camping trip in the wilderness.  Of laying in the tent and hearing loons calling.

No other call of any bird has the power to move us in quite the same way.

And combine the call of a loon with the fog on the lake this morning, there is a something that moves us deeply.  A mood, a mist and a melancholy.

What could be more perfect?  It brings healing to the soul.

While we would love to have our loon sitting in full view for us on the nest, we take comfort in the fact that we know they are where they are meant to be.  Swimming freely somewhere out on the lake on this foggy morning.  Doing what they were created to do.

So this morning, rather than think about too much else or think too deeply, we simply settle back and drink in all the sights and sounds around us.  To enjoy the moment.  To smile.  To hear our loon calling somewhere out in the mist.  Tomorrow will have enough problems of its own.

This moment is perfect.

A lake, a loon and a brooding fog.

 

Tuesday June 15, 2010 1:04pm CDT

 

Now there is just an empty platform.

And an empty place in our hearts.  To not see the beautiful loon sitting there just leaves an emptiness.  A hole.

I just came up from the lake.  I went down to look for the loons with the binoculars.

I don't see them anywhere on the lake.  Now that does not mean they are not here.  I just don't see them right now.  

There are times when even when I know where they are that I have to look and look and look.  And then all of a sudden they surface.  It is hard sometimes to see them.  Right now I do not see either of them.  Nor do I see any of the other loons that have been around.

The loons today acted exactly as I expected them to act.  But I could not be certain they would until it actually happened.  But now the bond with the nest has been broken and they have moved on with their lives.

But it was not without uncertainty and trepidation on my part that this whole thing took place.

When I went down to take the egg last night, I must say that I was more than pleased that there was no calling and no splashing or penguin dancing and no signs of distress.

But then when all of the calling started, my heart was in my throat!

"Oh please, Lord!  NO!!!! We don't need this!!  Please!"

And as the calls grew in intensity, if my heart could have jumped out of my throat it would have!

But then it soon became readily apparent that all the calling was due to another pair of loons and not due to the egg being removed.  Only then did my heart return to where it should be.  Only then did my heart rate go down.  Only then did my blood pressure return to normal.

All in all, I do not think that the taking of the egg could have gone more perfectly with the minimum of stress to our loons.

About 6:30 this morning, after the loon on the nest had left the nest, there were 'flying tremolos' from what sounded like two loons.

I went to look to see if I could see them.  The beautiful sound of the flying tremolos continued.  Getting closer and closer.  Then I saw one of the loons flying from left to right about mid-height up in the sky.  I did not see the second one but both of them continued to call.

It was almost as if they were taking their celebratory flight of freedom!

I did not see them land but some time later I saw both of them out on the lake.  And then they checked out the nest again a couple times...one time for about thirty minutes!

But now they are somewhere.  Somewhere other than on the nest.  But somewhere doing 'their loon thing' and getting on with their lives.

Let me take this opportunity before everyone scatters too far and wide to once again say THANK YOU!!

You cannot believe how much your kind words and your understanding and support has meant to me.  Words are inadequate to fully express my appreciation for you!

And thank you for being a part of this wonderful 'family' that has developed around this LoonCam!  Who could have ever predicted at the beginning of the season how close everyone would become.

I had to laugh at one point when there was some discussion in the chat room about if there was or should be a moderator and whether any subtle criticisms were warranted or not.  I laughed because it reminded me of the loon settling on the egg!  Everyone discussed the matters at hand.  It was like the little 'tushy wiggle' that the loons did to get comfortable sitting on those big eggs.  And then when they were comfortable, they settled down and relaxed.  And I visualized everyone doing just that.  Everyone wiggling their rear end a little until we all found our area of comfort with our neighbor next to us.  A wiggle here.   A wiggle there.   And then we all settled down and enjoyed the experience.

Now we wait to catch a glimpse of our dear loons.  Those precious fleeting glances over the next few days.

We will leave the cam running for the next few days so that you can catch those fleeting glances.  And I will periodically post an update to the blog to let you know what I am observing of the loons on the lake.  With no chicks this year, there will be less to report but I will try to keep you up to date.

And I will let you know anything I find out from our testing of the eggs.

I would like to say thank you as well to Ron Schara and the whole Minnesota Bound crew, Broadband USA and Wild Earth!

I had been talking with Peter from Wild Earth and unbeknownst to you, he was awake in South Africa at the time that I took the egg...just to make sure that the camera did NOT go down at the most inopportune time!  Thank you, Peter!

And  last night I got a phone call from Tony from Broadband about an hour before I was going to take the egg.  He was  wondering if I wanted to 'kill the feed' before I took the egg so that I was 'protected'!  Tony, thanks for your concern for me!  But I told him "NO!!  We HAVE  to make sure the feed remains LIVE and solid!  If it goes down now you will hear a howl from around the world and you won't need a loudspeaker to hear it!!!"  lol

But once again, in the strongest possible terms I would like to say THANK YOU for all your wonderful expressions of love and appreciation!  You are AMAZING!

Almost as amazing as our AMAZING LOONS!

Tuesday June 15, 2010 5:13am CDT

 
59 degrees   Light drizzle   Wind SE 3mph
 
 
Two loud wails from the nest pierce the haze over the lake in the early morning light.  A drizzle falls on our loon as she sits on the nest, just like she has for so many mornings before.  Except there is one big difference this morning.
 
There is no egg.
 
But so far it doesn't seem to matter.  It is almost as if the habit is so deeply ingrained by now, that she continues so sit.
 
Even after being off the nest briefly, she once again got back on the nest and tried to roll the egg that wasn't there.....the 'ghost egg'....before she once again settled back down on it.  Complete with the moving of the feet and the wiggle of the tail to get it just right.
 
It is as if she knows that something is not right, but that she is just not sure of exactly what it is.
 
Last night as I began walking out to the nest to retrieve the egg, the muskrat swam across a few feet in front of me.  I could barely see his wake in the reflection of what little light there was in the sky.  I had been worried about whether one of the loons would attack me, but for now I was more worried about the muskrat in the water with me.
 
Fortunately,  he kept swimming and I kept walking. 
 
Many of you were watching as the loon silently slid off the nest.
 
In fact, she left so silently I did not even hear her leave even though I was only feet away.  I was surprised that the nest was empty when I got there because I had not even heard her go into the water.  But then I saw her silhouetted against the same reflection of the sky that had let me see the muskrat. 
 
She was some distance from the nest already, silent.
 
I took the egg and hurriedly left the nest feeling it as I walked.  Just to make sure that there were no cracks, no holes, no sound, no movement of a chick trying to get out.  There was none.
 
In fact, as I mentioned last night, there is the faint but distinct odor of a rotten egg.
 
There was no doubt that this egg was not going to hatch.
 
Fortunately it had been the right decision to take it and to free the loons from the nest.  X-rays may help to determine if it started to develop and then stopped.  Or if it is possible that it was not fertile from the beginning or never started developing.
 
But all of that was forgotten last night when a whole chorus of wails and tremolos and yodels started.  A full 5 to 10 minutes AFTER I had left the nest.
 
My heart sank when those calls started.  I thought to myself, "Oh please NO!  We do not need this!"
 
And they continued on and on and on.
 
But then it quickly became apparent as well that they could not be in response to me taking the egg.  It was challenge calls from our pair of loons to another pair of loons that was about a quarter of the way around the lake.  It could not have been from taking the egg because they did not even know that the egg was gone.  At most it was that their heightened sense of alert also made them alert to the presence of the other pair of loons and their call.
 
But for those first few heart-stopping moments, the calls tore at my heart!
 
Now as she sits on an empty nest, one wonders how long she will stay there.  She has been off the nest already once this morning and returned.  And when she returned she went through her normal 'egg turning behavior and her wiggle to settle down on the nest.  So much that is ingrained.  So much that seems to be habit.
 
I would expect in the daylight, that she will eventually see and understand that there is really no egg there.  Something that she probably had trouble comprehending in the dark last night when she turned and moved numerous times before finally settling down to sleep for several hours.  And I would expect that as the realization that there is no longer an egg on the nest dawns on her, she will gradually leave the nest for longer and longer periods of time.  But this is new territory.  I am not sure if any one has ever seen before exactly what a loon does under these circumstances.  When a "predator" has taken the final egg and there is nothing left on the nest.
 
So we will watch and learn together.
 
She spent a restful peaceful night on the nest with no apparent distress.
 
And for now, she sits on the nest surveying her kingdom in the haze and the morning rain like she has for so many mornings before.
 
One would never guess that this morning was different than any other morning.  But it is.
 
Once again a wail pierces the early morning air.
 
There is no answer from the mate.
 
What will happen when he returns and also finds that there is no longer an egg on the nest to carefully protect and incubate?
 
We can only wait.  And watch.  And learn.