My elusive Kingfisher.
After an entire summer of chasing him all over the lake, he finally came to me, flying across the top of the water, and landing in the branch above me.
He posed for quite awhile, chattering at me twice.
I’d like to think he was saying, “Have a nice winter. See you in the Spring.”
Like most of you, I took advantage of the gorgeous sunshine and warm temps this weekend . . . .
sneaking out of the office and out of my writing duties to get on the lake both mornings. Sunday morning, I managed to push off shore at 6:30am and the view looked like this.
Heavenly.
As I meandered through the cove next to our swimming area, I heard the soft hoot of a loon on the other side of the eagle’s island. They were still here!
I paddled silently to find two of them, swimming around each other, hooting and fishing. Before I had a chance to raise my camera, one took off down the lake, circled above us, then flew off to another location.
The one remaining, looked at me curiously.
I remember the first time I saw a fall loon, with its white face and neck. I thought it was sick. Or old.
Of course, it’s neither. They are simply molting, getting rid of worn and frayed feathers so they can grow stronger, new feathers.
This is why we see them preening so much in August. These new feathers will keep them warm in the cold ocean waters, where they will spend the winter.
Oh, how I’ll hate to see them go . ..
But at least I have the thousand photos I took of them, while they were here, to help pass the time until they come back next May.
Saturday morning, I rolled out of bed, and fumbled for my sweatpants and sneakers. Running my fingers through my hair, I glanced out at the pre-dawn darkness, then at the thermometer. I chuckled.
Forty-four degrees.
I might have crawled right back into the warmth of the bed covers, but I had a kayak date. When the first drips of coffee began plopping into the camp office coffee pot, I heard a gentle knock on the front door and looked to see Cindy Lord’s smiling face peeking through the window. I let her in to choose her favorite kayak paddle and life vest.
“The sky was awfully pretty as I drove over the hills of Rt. 26,” she said. So I hurried, screwing the lid on my stainless steel coffee cup and hoisting my camera bag over my shoulder. Checking one last time for my kayak key, we headed out the front door, locking it behind us.
We talked and walked. Rounding the last corner before the lake front, my breath caught. Cindy hadn’t exaggerated. The sky was glorious. I wasn’t even a foot off shore with the kayak, when I lifted the camera from my bag and began shooting.
Cindy led the way past the eagle’s island to our favorite sunrise viewing spot.
I sipped my coffee and watched the new-day sun, slowly rise over the treetops.
Basking in its glow, Cindy asked, “Where to next?” We decided to continue on, down the shoreline until we glided into my favorite cove. I was looking for deer, or the muskrat, or a loon.
What we spied through the fog and shoreline shadows, was a heron, wading through shallow water.
It stood perfectly still for the longest time. From a distance, it could be mistaken for a bare branch. But I knew what I was looking for. They’re one of my favorite subjects to photograph.
Cindy and I took a few photos. Silently paddled a little closer. Took a few photos. Paddled a little closer.
Suddenly, the heron lunged downward like a lightening strike. He came back up with a fish!
Oh, how I wished he wasn’t behind the fog and in the shadows! Getting a feeding shot was on my bucket list of subjects . . . the photo above was okay, but not the bright, clear, striking photo I longed for.
Then the heron spread his wings, and took flight to land on a nearby branch.
He rubbed his beak on the tree branch, cleaning it off after breakfast.
This branching pose was a first for me! While he sunned himself, I took photo after photo after photo.
Cindy and I were in awe.
Mornings like this are always so much more special when you have friends to share them with.
Slowly we paddled back. It was time for me to open the store and then we had a special event to attend; lunch with Patience Mason before her book signing at Books N Things in Norway.
What an awesome day . . . Good friends, good weather and good food.
Couldn’t ask for more.
So much has happened in the month since I last posted. The campground was super busy with our themed weekends, especially our Halloween ones!
And mid-month, Mystery of the Eagle’s Nest launched! Over 200 people came to the campground, and sat on my front lawn to celebrate with me, my family and Islandport Press. For a special treat, we invited Hope from Wind Over Wings to give a presentation on raptors and ravens.
Teddy – A Northern Saw-whet Owl
The crowd was enchanted with each and every bird and hearts were touched by their stories and how they came to stay with Wind Over Wings.
Zachariah – Common Raven
Hope and Skywalker have a special bond, it was easy to see. Sky sang to Hope, when she told Sky’s story on how he was shot out of the sky. He came close to death, and pulled through, only to find one wing had to be amputated. Can you imagine being an eagle,and finding yourself grounded?
Angry, Sky turned his back on his caregivers. Literally. It was only after much patience, love and special care on the part of Hope and her staff, that Sky turned back to the world.
Hope with Sky – a golden eagle
Now he stars in many presentations each year to educate humans on the life and adventures of being an eagle.
The photo below shows Sky saluting me for my work on Mystery of the Eagle’s Nest. I was very honored.
While my staff helped children make s’mores, and Maxwell Moose wandered around showing everyone who would listen about how he was a character in Mystery of the Eagle’s Nest, I signed books for my readers and campers and friends.
The campground was still in full swing, but I did find time for a few kayaking trips to see the loons
They are preening . . .
and gathering in preparation for their journey to the coast for the winter.
And I even caught the heron, who frequents the marshy area every Fall . . .
School has started as well, and it feels good to be back in the classroom, talking up books, and writing and helping students make the most of each and every day. We are planning an event at the school which will include Hope, and Wind Over Wings.
Going through my photos tonight, I realized I’ve taken many, but posted few. This is mainly due to the time involved in editing them. But now that the campground is slowing down, I can start going through them and will be be able to post summer-time photos well into the winter months!
And you’re going to have to hear all about my research and writing ups and downs, while I tackle book 3: Mystery of the Missing Fox!
Cindy Lord met me on the porch of my campground office at 5am last Friday morning. After I made a pot of coffee and filled my stainless steel cup with the hot, dark liquid I craved at that time of day, we trekked to the lake to put our kayaks in the lake.
We were in time to witness the dancing mist on the water and the rising sun over the trees.
I looked for muskrats, herons and wood ducks. But as is often the case with Cindy and I, it was a loon we saw first. I can’t remember the last time we were together and we didn’t see one.
A second loon flew overhead a few moments later. We watched as they two of them greeted each other for a few minutes before swimming off down the lake.
Cindy and I traveled the same path as the pair, talking, sharing author-ly stories and just plain catching up on life. Every now and then, we’d run into the loons again . . .
We’d snap a few more photos and chat again until we were rendered speechless by the sight of an adult eagle in the distance.
At first, he appeared to be sitting in peace. But the caw of a crow told a different story.
It didn’t take long to see the eagle was being harassed. The crow called and buzzed him, until eventually, the poor eagle took flight to escape all the noise and hubbub.
He landed in another tree, closer to us. The crow wasn’t giving up that easily though.
A second crow joined the first in making the eagle’s life as miserable as possible.
All the while, the eagle looked out over the lake regally, appearing to ignore them as best as he could .
But even the mighty eagle can only take so much. The crow buzzed the eagle one too many times . . .
until the eagle spread his wings and fell off the branch,
It was the most beautiful thing to see . . .
his wings filling with air before lifting up into the sky . . .
soaring . . .
over our heads . . .
then down along the lake toward the campground.
Cindy and I smiled at each other, much as I imagined Cooper and Packrat do, before we picked up our paddles to follow the eagle . . . to the campground.
I witnessed the most incredible wildlife-happening Saturday while paddling in from the loon count.
As I made my way past the eagle’s island, I heard a ton of commotion. The eaglets were both on the nest, screeching at one another. Wings flapped as they moved around the nest itself and to the branches above it. I raised my camera to get a better look. One of the eaglets lifted off the nest, and flew rather clumsily to land on a branch of a nearby tree.
I could tell there was something in his talons . . .
Above and to his right, the sibling eaglet screamed down in frustration from the nest, as this one tried to find his footing without losing the prize.
It took a minute, but he finally won the battle of the fish. I’m guessing that what I missed, was an adult swooping in to drop off breakfast.
Obviously, this one didn’t want to share.
I looked at my watch, and realized I had fifteen minutes to get to shore, lock up my kayak, trudge uphill, and open the store for business. I’d lowered my camera to do just that, when WHOOSH –
a blur of brown and white buzzed by the eaglet with the fish, causing him to drop his prize.
An osprey? The adult?
Again, I lifted my camera, using it like binoculars and gasped to see this juvenile had landed on the branch next to the eaglet.
Since it takes almost 5 years for a juvenile to gain their white head and yellow beak, I’m thinking this one is 3 – 4 years old. Dare I suggest it’s one of the triplets from a couple years ago? There was that one eaglet who just didn’t seem to want to leave the nest . . . not even after it had collapsed. We called him “the baby”.
Anyway, all the hullabaloo started all over again. The eaglet that lost the fish, screamed at the juvenile. The eaglet in the nest, shrieked down at both of them, while the juvenile let them both have it.
Oh, it was loud!!
But it was about to get louder.
The adult arrived, buzzing the juvenile, who promptly jumped further into the branches of its tree.
Meanwhile, the adult landed on top the highest point of the island, and hollered down at the juvenile. More than hollered, she meant business. It was a call I’d only heard when the osprey buzzed the nest or the heron flew too closely.
She was not pleased with this newcomer.
Neither were the eaglets who were still making noise of their own.
I just sat in my kayak and chuckled at the whole thing.
Finally, the adult had enough. She took to the sky.
. . . and buzzed the juvenile until he was on the run.
Behind me, the eaglets had gone silent. All I could hear was the adult and the juvenile screeching, as the older chased the younger to the other side of the lake . ..
Ooooooo, she was relentless.
The last of my photos have these two as brown dots in the sky. She chased this one away, across the lake, over the golf course and well over Middle Range Pond, before I lost sight of them.
This was an experience I’ll never forget. Awe-inspiring. Nature at its finest.
And after all that, I still managed to open the store on time. Although the first hundred customers of the day had to patiently listen to me tell my story over, and over and over again.
Thanks to the reminder from a friend on Middle Range Pond, I finally remembered to join in on Maine’s Loon Count. I’d always wanted to . . . planned to . . . then the date would come and go and I’d miss it.
Not this year!
As I dragged my kayak into knee-deep water, 6:35ish Saturday morning, I smiled to think of all the other Maine volunteers. Some would take to boats and kayaks like me. Some would stand on the shoreline with binoculars. But all would be watching, counting and documenting their findings from 7 – 7:30am on this day.
It felt kind of awesome to be a part of something that big.
Because I had to be back at the campground office to open it up at 8am, my plan was to kayak down to the state park end of the lake, and then slowly paddle back during the recording time, because I knew I couldn’t cover the whole lake in half an hour, but the loons seem to hang out on this end more than the firestation-end.
I’d barely dipped my paddle half a dozen times, when I saw a loon through the early morning fog.
I looked at the time on my phone. 6:40am. Way too early to count.
But not too early to snap photos.
I stuck to my plan and headed toward the State Park. To my surprise, the loon kept time with me. I paddled slightly left to give some space between us, and it went left with me. I slowed down, and it slowed down too.
“I guess you want to be counted,” I said, making conversation.
The loon just looked at me.
6:50am.
I couldn’t resist. I snapped a few more pictures
and then the loon looked upward.
A second loon flew in and landed, before I could turn the lens on him.
I looked at the time . . .
7:01am.
“Well, who told you about the party?” I asked out loud.
The two loons didn’t pay me any mind. They greeted each other, swimming in circles, hooting and dipping their bills into the water (not their heads, just the bills). It looked to me as if one had been waiting for the other.
Not even five minutes later, one of the two looked toward the end of the lake and hooted softly. A third loon had appeared! I had just scanned that area with my long camera lens and hadn’t seen him. Perhaps he’d been under water. Perhaps he flew in too.
But here he was.
7:08am
I watched for just a couple minutes more while sipping coffee. The loons parted ways; the two staying together on the right side of the lake, while the last to arrive went off on his own to the left.
I dipped my paddle to begin the trek back to the campground. Even though I poked into every little inlet and scanned the middle of the lake in front of the campground, no other loons appeared.
So ‘three’, was my answer on the paperwork.
Three adult loons on Lower Range Pond.
When Islandport asked me to meet with a videographer, to talk about the inspiration behind Cooper and Packrat, I said, “Sure!”
But as the date got closer and closer, I became more and more nervous. What should I say? How would I stand? Where would we film it? And more importantly,
What would I wear!?
The morning of, I still hadn’t finalized all I wanted to say. What hadn’t been said or blogged about already? I found myself awake at 5am, so I headed out in my kayak, determined to find some inspiration.
And there, in the middle of the lake, it all came together.
I remembered why I’d written Cooper’s story. I remembered the reader’s letters I’d received so far, and some of the questions they’d asked me along the way.
Looking back, I need not have worried so. The videographer, John McCain, put me right at ease by asking about all my favorite things. The books, the campground and the wildlife. We took a walk around the campground first and of course, he wanted to film on the lake’s edge.
After we were done taping my talk, Dave and I took John on a tour of the lake to find the loons and eagles. It happened to be a glorious day, and we spent quite awhile out there, enjoying the views.
After I’d said goodbye to John, and he assured me the video would be wonderful, I looked at David and said, “Whew! That wasn’t so bad. But I’m glad it’s done.”
Little did I know, right at that moment, there was an e-mail in my in-box from Melissa, telling me they were sending a photographer in a couple weeks to get “a few photos”.
Ack!
Have you ever seen a loon yawn??
I have!
The loon didn’t make a sound, as he gave the long, slow yawn, that ended with his closing his eyes and drifting away from me.
I kayaked away, as quietly as I could.
