Growing Pains

On a very still and sticky mid-August evening, we had the most fortunate evening paddle. Caroline had just purchased herself a used Kevlar canoe from a local outfitter, so of course we had to take it out for a test voyage. Chacha and I had the privilege of being the duffers, the non-paddling members in the canoe.

We left from Chik-Wauk and paddled up the channel to the larger portion of Lake Saganaga. It was one of those incredibly calm days where the optical illusion of the reflections in the waning light of day and the water come together to a point in which what is up and what is down can easily be misconstrued.

We paddled some, then drifted and watched as a couple of beavers were intent upon setting up their new home. Their previous home appeared to have been broken apart by the cabin owners who may have decided they’d like to use their dock and not hand it over to the beavers just yet. Most likely bothered, but definitely not deterred, the beavers were skillfully setting up their new home just yards from the cabin’s shoreline, yet far enough away to give each their own space.

And then we saw our very own loons.

In late spring, Chik-Wauk had a covered loon’s nest where a pair of loons successfully hatched two loon chicks. Initially, they stayed in the very protected little bay by Chik-Wauk, but soon, they had moved out to larger water close to the channel. Whoever would paddle out a bit would report back that the family was still intact and, knock on wood, both hatchlings were still with their parents.

The last time I’d seen the young loons, they still had their fuzzy charcoal gray plumage that completely defies logic. It is so fluffy and yet never gets wet or matted. Now, the young loon and its parent were swimming side by side, oblivious and unbothered by us sitting in the canoe, open-mouthed gaping at how close we were to them. The parent was brilliantly black and white speckled with the sleek black head and crimson eyes. The young loon’s plumage was similar to the adult’s, but a soft slivery heather gray with white speckles and no white band around its neck, yet. The two swam side by side, and in typical adolescent fashion, the young loon seemed to be pestering its parent and wanting more and more tasty treats to eat. The adult dove under, while the young loon, seemingly unable to completely submerge its body, stuck its head under the water while smacking its wings forcefully on the surface in what appeared to be an attempt at diving? We all laughed at the comical nature of so much splashing, so little fish for the youngster. The parent came back up with a tasty morsel, while the young loon coolly shook out each foot before scurrying, over cuddling up for another snack.

The parent started to vocalize little hoots, and in time, the other parent appeared, but never came very close to the pair we’d been watching. We wondered where the other young loon was and decided we were hungry enough to paddle on back. Much further down the lake and closer to Chik-Wauk, we came across the other young loon, completely alone. Usually, adults dive under when a canoe comes this close, but it seems this youngster wasn’t super adept at diving yet as it stuck its head into the water while the rest of its body was definitely still on the surface. Caroline remarked, “Dude, you know we can still see you!” The young loon only shook it’s head.

Maybe it’s ridiculous on my part, but when I watch animals and their young I cannot help but resort to a bit of personification. I was taken back in time to my birthday several years ago. My children were 13 and 15, I think, and for fun, I wanted to go to Minnehaha Falls Park and rent bikes to ride around the park. Sofia and I were in the carriage type bicycle so that we could sit side by side while Kohei chose a single recumbent style bicycle, that actually looks more like a little race car than a bicycle. We were told the route to go and I clearly asked Kohei to not go too far ahead of us as he could peddle much faster in his bike.

As luck would have it, Sofia, being younger, soon tired of peddling our bicycle for two, leaving me to do the bulk of the peddling while she rested her head on my shoulder and pathetically prompted me, “Go faster mom, Kohei’s way up there!”

I encouraged Sofia to help me a little bit while watching Kohei and his jaunty spiked up hair do become smaller and smaller as more distance was between us. I eventually lost sight of him altogether as I needed to rest from peddling this monstrosity myself. I soon realized that Kohei had not turned back into the park but had headed down the West River Road to God only knows where.

I asked a few people if they’d seen a spiky haired boy in a recumbent bike at all, maybe? Finally, a young couple laughed and said, “Yeah, we saw him, but he’s way down by Lake Street!”

Hmmm, nothing to do but wait for him to come back. When Kohei did come back, he was breathless and invigorated. He had no idea of how far he’d ridden, but when he finally turned around and realized that we weren’t there he headed on back to greet us jubilantly.

Smiling at the memory and coming back to the present moment, I wished I could communicate with that loon parent. I wanted to shout down that lake and say, he’s here! I found him, no worries! That being impossible, I can only marvel at the passage of time and the mystery of watching young ones, be they loons, beavers, or humans, grow up and launch their own lives.