Wisconsin Loon Therapy

Nature to the Rescue

Life ran away with me early this summer. As life sometimes does. I was in this sluggish, muddy, gray mindset where tears came easily, triggered by memories big and small, as I drove down a country road at dusk on my way to a place that holds more love and loss for me than any other settled placewhen a black bear bounded across the road in front of me! I’ve been coming to this cabin on a small, quiet Wisconsin lake for most of my life. This is only the fourth time I’ve glimpsed a bear up here. It’s a sign.

The next morning, I woke at dawn to mist rolling over the mirror-calm water, swirling gently in the early rays of the sun. A wide, vivid rainbow arched across the sky on the far shore. I held the splendor of this greeting as I lay a while in bed. Another sign.

Hours later over coffee, the resident pair of loons cruised by with a pair of downy chicks in tow. Loonlings are a rare sight here for me.When heartache pulls me down, Nature is always there to say, “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” Here’s a bear. A rainbow. Downy chicks. It’ll be okay.And so I spent the next week with nothing to do but watch these chicks grow, their parents feeding them, teaching them how to fish, and carrying them when they’re tired or need warmth.Both of the parents feed the loonlings, a seemingly endless task. Over the course of a week, the chicks grow noticeably; their fluffy chocolate down is replaced by shiny black feathers. There is no longer room for both chicks on one parent’s back – one of them drafts behind.Their parents repeatedly present perfectly sized, hobbled fish for the chicks to grab from the water. Invariably, the youngsters miss on the first stab. Fishing takes practice. The parent then snorkels to find the escapee and deftly presents it again. Over and over it goes.

The parents aren’t so discriminating about the sizes of prey they catch for themselves. Oftentimes, they swallow a fish whole as they surface, so I can hardly discern what they’ve caught. Sometimes, though, a bigger meal takes some finesse to get down.

Loons live twenty to thirty years, returning from winters along the Gulf of Mexico to the same lake each summer. So, like me, these loons have been coming here for decades. They know about their fans who watch quietly from shore. They know the predictable, benign patterns of anglers in their small trolling boats. They know about dogs on docks.They’re not bothered by any of it. They’ll swim right under the dock with me on it and eye me before taking their next dive – which can last up to eight minutes!But if I go out in the boat alone, just me and my camera, they keep their distance. In order to watch them for any amount of time, or to have close encounters (on their terms), I need a more effective blind. With my husband fishing by my side, the loons come right by – foraging, preening, intercepting interlopers. It’s a beautiful glimpse into the life of a loon family. I’m grateful that they accept me into their world this way.

At the beginning of the week, the chicks’ wings were little downy nubbins. Now they are beginning to resemble their adult form. It’s amazing how fast they grow, but not surprising since they hatch in mid-June and will be gone south by the time the calendar turns to September.Nature will heal you. Go outside. Find your peace.

If you’re interested in purchasing or licensing any images you see here, please email me at SNewenham at exploringnaturephotos.com, and I’ll make it happen.

Subscribe here to receive an email whenever a new blog posts.