WE HAVE AN EGG!!!
At 7:29pm.
Monday, May 7, 2012 4:59pm CDT
Are we getting close?
We could very well be!
The loons have been on the nest 10 times this afternoon. And one of the loons is on the nest right now.
There have been times of almost frantic nest building.
The yellow pansy just ended up in the nest. I think she pulled the whole plant out. It had been surviving up until now but now it may be gone.
I am not sure if the clump of irises on the left are going to survive either. First they excavated around the clump. Then they pulled it out by the roots. And they have been pulling every bit of mulch and dirt from between the roots. And they have pulled the clump up to the left edge of the nest. They continue to peck at it and pull at it. What had been a substantial clump now appears to be quite light when they tug at it.
You can see how long the roots are and how deep they were. But the loons have pulled them out completely.
So I think it is just a matter of time before the roots dry out and the plant dies.
I have never seen a pair of loons this intent on digging up everything in sight. So you learn something new every year.
But with all the activity this afternoon we are either getting very close to the laying of the first egg - or they are getting as frustrated as we are waiting!
Keep an eye on them.
I cannot be home tonight so I might miss the actual laying if it happens tonight.
Comments or Questions? LoonCam(at)yahoo(dot)com
Copyright 2012 Larry Backlund
Monday, May 7, 2012 5:35am CDT
49 degrees F Clear Calm
Sunrise 5:52am Sunset 8:27pm
Today promises that we will have a little bit of a break from the rain that has brought so much moisture over the last few days.
A clear sky and just a few ripples on the lake greet our loons this morning as the sun is about to rise.
Last night shortly before dark, I saw a single loon not too far from the nest as what was apparently 'our loons' swam together across the lake.
The single loon looked decidedly smaller but it was hard to tell for sure without them being close to each other.
It is unusual to see another loon in the territory without a response from the pair of loons. So the questions continue.
And the wait for the loons to decide if it is time to lay an egg continues.
The loons were on the nest a number of times yesterday. And the amount of time spent on the nest each time seems to be increasing along with increased nest building activity. I am not sure when they did it but I just noticed yesterday that one small clump of iris is completely gone from the right side of the nest. I have never seen a pair of loons do as much "excavating" as this pair are doing.
But so far, a lot of activity but no eggs.
So we wait.
While we wait, will you allow me the privilege of sharing something completely unrelated?
A few of you have commented on a small bird that has visited the nest several times. Some have wondered if it is a sandpiper. I do not know my other birds well enough to say definitively but that sounds as good as any other guess.
But hearing of and seeing that sandpiper on the nest, reminded me of a story I had heard many years ago but had not thought about for sometime.
It is called "The Sandpiper " and it summarizes so well what is really important in the 'busyness' of our lives. I have seen it variously attributed to Robert Peterson or Ruth Peterson. I hope you enjoy it but you may wish to have some tissues handy.
THE SANDPIPER
by Robert Peterson
She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live.
I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world
begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something
and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.
“Hello,” she said.
I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.
“I’m building,” she said.
“I see that. What is it?” I asked, not really caring.
“Oh, I don’t know, I just like the feel of sand.”
That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes.
A sandpiper glided by.
“That’s a joy,” the child said.
“It’s a what?”
“It’s a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy.”
The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I muttered to
myself, hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed, my life
seemed completely out of balance.
“What’s your name?” She wouldn’t give up.
“Robert,” I answered. “I’m Robert Peterson.”
“Mine’s Wendy… I’m six.”
“Hi, Wendy.”
She giggled. “You’re funny,” she said.
In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on.
Her musical giggle followed me.
“Come again, Mr. P,” she called. “We’ll have another happy day..”
The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings,
and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out
of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat.
The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was
chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed.
“Hello, Mr. P,” she said. “Do you want to play?”
“What did you have in mind?” I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.
“I don’t know. You say.”
“How about charades?” I asked sarcastically.
The tinkling laughter burst forth again. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Then let’s just walk.”
Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face.
“Where do you live?” I asked.
“Over there.” She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.
Strange, I thought, in winter.
“Where do you go to school?”
“I don’t go to school.. Mommy says we’re on vacation”
She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was
on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day.
Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.
Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic I was in no
mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt
like demanding she keep her child at home.
“Look, if you don’t mind,” I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, “I’d
rather be alone today.” She seemed unusually pale and out of breath.
“Why?” she asked.
I turned to her and shouted, “Because my mother died!” and thought,
My God, why was I saying this to a little child?
“Oh,” she said quietly, “then this is a bad day.”
“Yes,” I said, “and yesterday and the day before and….. oh, go away!”
“Did it hurt?” she inquired.
“Did what hurt?” I was exasperated with her, with myself.
“When she died?”
“Of course it hurt!” I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off.
A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn’t there.
Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up
to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking
young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.
“Hello,” I said, “I’m Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today
and wondered where she was.”
“Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much.
I’m afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance,
please, accept my apologies.”
“Not at all! she’s a delightful child.” I said, suddenly realizing
that I meant what I had just said.
“Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia
Maybe she didn’t tell you.”
Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath.
“She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn’t say no.
She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days.
But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly…” Her voice faltered, “She left
something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I
look?”
I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young
woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with “MR. P” printed in bold
childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues, a yellow beach,
a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed:
A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love
opened wide.. I took Wendy’s mother in my arms. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,
I’m so sorry,” I uttered over and over, and we wept together The precious little
picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words — one for each year
of her life — that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love.
A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of sand,
who taught me the gift of love.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
NOTE: This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It happened over 20 years ago and the incident changed his life forever. It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other. The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less. Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important or what is only a momentary setback or crisis. This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means, take a moment... even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses. This comes from someone's heart, and is read by many and now I share it with you... May God Bless everyone who receives this! There are NO coincidences! Everything that happens to us happens for a reason. Never brush aside anyone as insignificant. Who knows what they can teach us?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Today, as we wait for the loons, I wish you A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.
Comments or Questions? LoonCam(at)yahoo(dot)com
Copyright 2012 Larry Backlund
Sunday, May 6, 2012 5:35am CDT
56 degrees Raining Wind 2 mph S
Sunrise 5:53am Sunset 8:26pm
In the first early light of a Minnesota dawn, two loons quietly swim right next to the nesting platform. Lazily floating 'round and 'round.
A steady drizzle hits the nest and speckles the calm surface of the lake.
We continue a wet weather pattern that has seen thunderstorm after thunderstorm move through. This morning it is just a quiet, gentle rain. But more rain and storms are predicted for most of today.
The loons could care less. Even though they are so beautiful and brilliant on a bright sunny day, they are at home in the water. Whether they are swimming in it or whether it is coming down on them from above.
Water is their element.
Nesting time is one of the few times in their life that they come to land.
For someone who is so graceful on and under the water and so clumsy and awkward on land, it must be a real sacrifice and struggle for them to have to get out of the water and spend time on land. But it is a sacrifice they make each year to ensure that there is a new generation of loons to enrich our lives for years to come.
And each generation of loons does enrich our lives for many years to come. For you see, loons are very long lived birds. No one knows for sure how long loons live but we do know that they can live for 25 to 30 years. That is many years of beauty and haunting calls that tell us we are in the north woods.
As the loons wait, so we wait. Wait in anticipation of an egg.
Wait in anticipation of beautiful, little baby loonlings.
Comments or Questions? LoonCam(at)yahoo(dot)com
Copyright 2012 Larry Backlund
Saturday, May 5, 2012 5:03am CDT
51 degrees Cloudy Wind 2mph N
Sunrise 5:55am Sunset 8:25am
In the first tiny bits of daylight, I can just barely make out the silhouettes of two loons floating between the nest and the shore.
This seems to be somewhat new behavior this year of spending the nights close to the nest. I am sure it has happened before but I just have not seen it this often. Then at dawn they swim by the nest to check it out, and may even get up on the nest and then swim off into the lake.
This particular pair of loons seems to come closer in to shore than seen in previous years.
The more we learn, the more we realize how little we truly know.
There is a whole drama of life that takes place all around us every day. And 99% of it we never see.
We have been reminded of that fact on other cams over the last few days.
Nature is magnificent and beautiful to see close up like we are able to do with this webcam and others. But it doesn't always follow some happily ever after script. Sometimes it can be heartbreaking and cruel. And sometimes it doesn't follow our benign view of what we would like to happen. But that is sometimes what we forget.
Now I am not saying any of that in reference to what we have seen here so far. But it is just a good reminder that we need to be realistic in our expectations of what we see. And maybe that is one of the great services of wildlife webcams - that we have a whole new understanding of some of the challenges that wildlife faces on a day to day basis that we never stop to think about. If we learn nothing other than that, our viewing of wildlife webcams will be a great learning experience.
Here on the LoonCam, we still hold on to the hope of new life and not of difficulty.
We hope with all our hope that every time the loon gets on the nest that 'this' will be the time that she lays the first egg. But so far she has not. And it is important to remind ourselves that we are still within the 'normal' range for laying of eggs.
The early spring has made us anxious.
Reports of other loons having already nested and laid eggs makes us wonder about this pair of loons.
But once again we must remember that we are only spectators. No matter how much we want to do something, there is nothing we can do that will 'make' her lay an egg. And that reminds us once again what a miracle that laying of the egg and new life out of it truly is. With all our much vaunted knowledge, no scientist knows how to do what the loons can do. And no scientist can create a little loon.
All of the signs continue to be positive and hopeful even if the arrival of the egg has not been as quick as we would like.
The loons are spending increasing amounts of time on the nest.
The nest building behavior continues.
In fact, in some ways there has been 'too much' nest building.I am not sure if we have moved from the "War of the Pansies" to the "War of the Irises".
The pansies have taken a beating from being sat on and nibbled and pulled and prodded. But they both still hang on. And even try to bloom.
But the last day or two, one clump of irises have also taken a beating.
In all the nest-building behavior, the loons completely dug around the clump of irises on the left. Then having dug around it, they began pulling on the roots themselves and the clump. They have completely pulled it loose and out of the nesting material. It now sits at a cockeyed angle on the edge of the nest.
If you look carefully, you can see all the roots now exposed to the air on the right hand side of the clump that they have pulled up toward the nest.
It illustrates the strength of the loons. That is not a small or insignificant clump. It has significant weight to it but the loons have been able to get it loose and actually pull it up towards the nest. But the irises are as hardy as the loons themselves. And they will no doubt try to put down roots in the new place they have been 'planted'.
The next time you see the loons on the nest, pay special attention to the loon's wingtips. The wingtips are long and slender. But notice how they make almost a perfect "X" as they cross over the top of the tail. I won't say anything more than that right now. Just notice that "X" over the top of the tail.
After they have laid an egg and are on the nest all the time, I will point out something else to you. But just notice and remember that for now.
Will today be the day for the first egg?
Once again, we can only watch and wait and hope.
Comments or Questions? LoonCam(at)yahoo(dot)com
Copyright 2012 Larry Backlund