Enchanted Lake..
I thought in this time of difficulty, although it will pass, some of you might enjoy a break and follow me through a real adventure that was full of peace and wonder as I traveled through it. I do have pictures of my photography available, but at the moment have no clue how to add it to my post. If you are interested in seeing this beautiful image, just let me know. I’ll figure out a way. It is a lithography print. Printed by Geiger Brothers, in Lewiston Maine. Ready to frame and hang. (8 X14..signed) This story is included with the print.
The Enchanted Lake
Copyright, 1998, Sonja Christiansen, KRMT
I have always loved being on the lake early in the morning with the human world still quiet. The lake like glass, without a ripple, with the morning sun casting chilly shadows over the early-rising dragonflies. The light scent of a few dying camp fires wafting on the still air. To me, this is peace.
As I quietly dipped the oars of my old wooden rowboat into the still lake. I was hoping that the soft plop-splash they were making as I slowly skimmed the serene water wouldn’t wake another soul, implanting the idea that they should come out and join me.
At the other end of the lake was a channel, a narrow causeway between one part of the lake and another. The causeway way a fairly private place. Not many people came this way. A fast moving motor boat might get caught on the 100 years or more of the debris on the bottom of the narrow passage way, and not many wanted to do the work of rowing. Much more fun to travel on a jet ski!
Overhanging on either side, were branches with woven arms together forming a cathedral ceiling ,creating an impenetrable barrier to the sky, offering protection for all who enter in the low morning light. Old overgrown maples, willows and birches stretching their arms out overhead. Some, by virtue of their great age stood topless, ragged moss -covered sentinels .The edges of the channel were thick and rich with march grass,and cattails . The entire area made a peaceful sanctuary for a multitude of birds, deer and small animals.
Quietly maneuvering my small rowboat toward the other end of the channel, around fallen logs and huge snapping turtles lurking in the shadows, and a few silly jumping frogs, I saw what appeared to be a dried up grassy mound near the waters edge. Something resembling an old tire lay kind of perched sideways on the edge of the marsh grass, like discarded trash. I couldn’t imagine anyone throwing trash into this pristine lake. Watching in amazement, I saw the thing begin to move.
I sat almost without breathing. Did I dare even reach for my camera? What if I dropped it and scared whatever it was away AND lost my camera? Carefully, sliding my oars into the oar locks, trying for all the life in me not to make a sound, I reached under the seat for my camera. So far so good, I thought. Now for the long lens. Carefully, with shaking fingers, I changed the lens and raised the viewfinder to my eye. LO and BEHOLD! A Loon!! On a nest even! I had never seen a Loon on a nest before and I wasn’t sure what to expect. I didn’t dare push any closer. I didn’t want to frighten her, but the sight mesmerized me. I couldn’t move just yet, I could only watch holding tight to each breath as it came. As my view finder brought her closer, she started to move and resettle herself. Normally they are shy of people and you only see them on the water with their chicks paddling behind, scurrying under her wings for protection if there is danger.
I must have sat in that old boat for about four hours not making a sound other than the click of my camera. For hours fat dragonflies practiced landing and taking off on various parts of my body. I am sure they were trying to figure what this interloper was doing in their world. Every now and then a fish would jump up to get a bite of breakfast, but I sat still. My legs fell asleep, but I sat still. A hungry mosquito had lunch on my big toe, but I sat still. FINALLY, the pay off! She started to move. She sat straight up looking right at me. She looked straight into my eyes, I felt like she could see right into my soul, Fearless…was she. With stately banded neck, alert red eyes and her protective speckled back, she turned her head this way and that as if to ask what I wanted so near her home. We watched each other for some time. Deliberately, I clicked, she slowly slid into the cool water of the lake. Just like that, hardly a ripple. Gone, I couldn’t believe she would just get up and slide off her nest like that.
I waited, all the while holding my breath just in case she came back. . I looked along the marshy edges of the mouth of the channel and around the lake as far as I could see.
I had heard that Loons could stay underwater for over 20 minutes. Many native tribes in the East consider them Holy and healing birds, mystical in many ways. Was she trying to get me to follow her? Or perhaps she didn’t see me as a threat.
Stretching my cramped legs and shaking life back into my arms. I reached carefully to pick up my camera once more. Looking through the viewfinder for one last farewell. Not moving an inch. Just watching. I saw one solitary egg. The beginning of the next generation of Loons! Loons are solitary birds, a nest is hardly ever seen. They mate for life and share the parenting. What a surprise. I don’t know what I was thinking, but it never occurred to me that the reason she was on her nest was to hatch her family. I was so enchanted by her stately beauty and the peaceful morning lake that I just didn’t think of anything else.
As the sun started to move high along it’s appointed route, the spell of the morning was broken. The lake was becoming alive with the splashing of children on the shore, motorboats and parents yelling to their kids, cautioning them not to go out to too far.
It was time for me to be on my way with my special secret. I think we had an understanding, she and I. I didn’t want to breach her confidence by drawing attention to her home.
Filled with awe and exhilaration I hurried home, my oars and oarlocks making a loud squawk- splash, as my old wooden paddles dug deeply into the now-active waters of the Enchanted Lake.
This was also published in Maine Fish and Wildlife, summer of 1998
I think the photography came out breathtakingly. Her reflection was captured as well, directly under the embankment. This may be the only time you will ever see a Loon on her nest. Prints avail, contact on FB
Keep well and be at Peace. Love, Sonja/ Starshine
