(From a daily prompt in a writing class, the below was based on the prompt, "ice." The hope is to someday gather resort anecdotes into a book. -- Kim, CWC)
"Phooom!" "Crik, crick . . . booum!" The ice thunders and cracks as it shifts with the temperature on the lake. Before moving up north to live in a cabin ten feet from a 751-acre lake, I had no idea the ice had such tumultous opinions. Often one can feel the tremors from a canon-like roar. It can be rather startling. Depending on humidity, snow blankets and barometer factors, the ice can be as boisterous as a teenager or quiet as a muffled timpani. It is common to measure the ice at three feet thick in the winter, a challenge for ice fisherman who then need to rent or borrow a neighbor's extension drill.
Our lake is on the small to medium range size for a lake in Minnesota. There are approximately 100 lakes in our county, although ours is the deepest per littoral foot (about 80 feet in depth.) It tends to freeze fully in mid-November and thaws completely by around April 20. The loons are some of the earliest to migrate back. In fact, most years there is a loon on the lake before the ice plates break up completely. They seem as anxious as some of our guests to be back up north in their happy place.
The common loon is likely everyone's favorite seasonal resident, certainly mine. Their haunting wails, crazy laughing tremelos, and uniquely trilling yodels make for quite an inspiring accompaniment to lakeside contemplation. I have learned they do not vocalize when they reside in their winter home in the Gulf of Mexico. Up here we see their striking black and white dotted coloration and vivid red eyes. Both their plumage and eye color shift to a dull gray color when they go south for the winter. We Minnesotans are blessed to hear and see these birds at their best. Is it any wonder they are our state bird?
Many a guest have shared a tale of how close they were able to get to a loon while kayaking or fishing. Loons avoid people, but seem unafraid by approaching boaters. If they come up for air alongside a boat, they typically glance around and then calmly dive back under again. We frequently hear fishermen complain in the fall of a loon chasing their live minnow bait around and around their boat. In autumn, the mature adults are the first to fly south, leaving the juveniles on their own to attempt the journey by instinct. The juveniles apparently see a minnow on a hook as an easy target. They are always the last to leave. Occasionally we will hear a local story of a loon trapped on the ice. They need about 40 feet of open water to use as a runway to launch their heavy bodies into the air. Their feet are set far back on their bodies (compared to most birds, loon feet act similarly to a motor placed on the back of a boat) and they are one of the few avian species without hollow bones - their density helps them swim exceptionally well. This means they are incredibly awkward on land. We've read sad stories about them landing on puddles in large parking lots, mistakenly thinking it's a body of water. Unless a human saves them, they won't be able to lift off from the ground.
We typically have two nesting pairs on our lake. Sometimes in the middle of summer for a few days in a row, a dozen or so loons will fly in to gather in a group in the middle of lake. I've asked numerous DNR and birding experts about their behavior over the years and no one knows why they do this. Are they young adults looking to party? (There is constant wing flapping and slapping, laughing and calling.) Or are they tired moms looking for a support group, venting about child-rearing? Perhaps they are all singles looking for another mate by showing off their physiques? It's a mystery.
When the ice thaws in April, I look forward to the first comforting loon serenade of the season. And when I hear it, I want to call out, "oh, the loons, the loons!" like that wavering voice Katherine Hepburn's character used in On Golden Pond. It is indeed a welcome harbinger of spring at the lake. If the loons are back, it means the ice is out.
Guests will be soon to follow. We can't wait to welcome new visitors to share the Minnesota tradition of staying at a cabin on the lake up north. View our May specials here.
