Our Inner Loon
[Loons] are among the Eagle Scouts of evolution. They are ungainly on the ground, not graceful fliers, but clearly, loons opted for diversification, perhaps because it made sense to hedge their bets at a time when volcanoes were still erupting and meteors plummeting to earth.
Hidden in the morning mist of Hunts Pond are two loons that must be thinking about leaving for their winter saltwater environs now that the first snow has arrived and temperatures are in the low double-digits.
We love the loons. They tag along behind the fishermen's canoes and paddle over to us when they see us on our dock. They exude the sort of confidence that derives from an estimated thirty to fifty million years on earth and a portfolio of skills won over time, transferable to air, land and water (freshwater or salt). Remarkable really. They are among the Eagle Scouts of evolution. They are ungainly on the ground, not graceful fliers, but clearly, loons opted for diversification, perhaps because it made sense to hedge their bets at a time when volcanoes were still erupting and meteors plummeting to earth.
Today the loons spend most of their time floating on peaceful waters, which is something that would never have been allowed in our houses. "You can't simply float through life," the parents would have exclaimed. "Honestly, are you going to just keep floating along?"
Yes, well, a few more hundreds of thousands of years and maybe that is exactly what we will do. On peaceful waters.
For now, with our coffee in the morning or a glass of wine in the evening, we get in touch with our inner loon by watching them float along. Deep in the night, we hear their plaintive call echoing back to the beginning of noises. Hallooo, they wail. Are you out there?
We will miss the loons. Winter will sweep them away until April, replacing them with the sound of owls at night and coyotes, which offer similar echoes from our past. We will set up our game camera on the edge of the pond for the winter, which captured a bobcat commuting across the ice and the ghostly images of coyotes steps from our door.
Yes, they are out there.
May you float on peaceful waters this fall season where you are, out there.
Published as part of a series of Postcards from The Hancock Inn, November 4, 2020