[mou] Common loons

[Christine Petersen]

The days after the ice melts are always a thrill for us on the shores of
Glen Lake. Usually the melt heralds the arrival of a number of waterfowls
species: regular visitors include coots, Canada geese, and mallards, as
well as all three mergansers, canvasbacks, ruddies, ring-necked ducks,
redheads, scaups, blue-winged teals, and American widgeons. Numbers of
individuals often reach several hundred. For a small lake (about 180
acres), I think it's a pretty respectable showing. This year the ice went
out on April 1, but we're still rather species-light--the only migratory
species so far (aside from the coot) is the ring-necked duck. As the
bad weather clears to the south, I'm hoping that more will begin to trickle
in in the days to come.

We also have a single pair of loons nesting on the lake every year. They
have yet to produce chicks in the 5 years I've been watching; though they
go through all the predictable motions and seem to be sitting a nest, at
some point (usually in early to mid-May) there is a night when we hear
alarm calls, and thereafter the pair is always out on the lake
together--never any sign of chicks, though they remain through the summer.
But, we continue to have hope--and we are glad for their continued
preference of our wee lake over other possible nesting sites.

Last year, two loons arrived together on April 12 (the day the ice went
out). This year, the male arrived alone on April 1 (again, the day the ice
went out). We've been eagerly watching for the female, and I was lucky
enough to witness her arrival at about 6:30 this morning. Our house is
poised atop a hill, with a wide swath of meadow flowing down the hill to a
cattail marsh and lake. Bands of deciduous trees line the shore on either
side, but this gap provides us with a good view of the center of the
lake--fortunately where all the "action" took place this morning.

The female skidded to a sloppy landing near the eastern shore of the lake
and spent a few minutes quietly on the water, appearing to rest. The male
had already been out in the middle of the lake for a while, and did not
immediately appear to respond to her arrival. After about 10 minutes,
however, they swam toward each other, met, and began their "circle dance."
First they would sink low in the water, swimming past each other in
opposite directions while dipping their heads up and down. Then they would
gently dive and, from the way the water swirled above them, I'd guess they
were swimming circles around each other underwater. They repeated this
about half a dozen times, then came up and swam alongside each other,
craning their necks out and holding their beaks high. After about half an
hour they swam off toward the north end of the lake, and I lost sight of
them behind the trees. When I took my son to his babysitter's house (she
lives on the north end of the lake, about 1/4 mile from me), she mentioned
that she had been hearing them call just moments before.

What I'd have given for a chance to be tucked among the cattails today,
watching them swim around and inspect nest sites.

Bird on, everyone!
Christine
on the shores of Glen Lake, Minnetonka, Hennepin County