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by Glory
Rated: E · Non-fiction · Inspirational · #1996294
WATCHING THE LOONS AT SWAN POND


DANCING WITH THE LOONS

I put in my kayak and paddle to the Southwest part of the pond where I have watched them play before. I paddle with haste, eager to find them, yet with caution so as not to scare them away. Nearing the big rock, I spy one, than shortly, just a short distance away, the other one surfaces. They usually travel together, but not always. I am pleased to see the pair. My, such a large bird! I am fifteen feet from them. I can easily see their long sleek necks and their checkerboard backs. I just sit, afraid that the slightest slap of the paddle might cause them to “go under”.

They seem to be dancing with each other, some sort of love-recognition ritual. They dip and swirl their necks, their huge bodies, diving in one graceful motion. They resurface at the same time and kind of look around, find each other and start the rite all over again.

How fun for me as I sit here. I am alone. It is a weekday, and very few people are even on the pond .I feel privileged to witness this stroke of nature; this event in time when nothing else matters except for the loons and their timely dance with each other. It is a beautiful love scene; God created.

Slowly they inch their way into the reeds and lilies. They usually don’t come this close to shore; except to nest; the fishing must be good here. I haven’t heard them sing today. The choir begins in the early evening and is especially beautiful before sunrise, as they call out to each other in their “loon-yodel” chant.

Oh, how the loons have e entertained me here today. I began my adventure with loons in mind and I have not been disappointed. Slowly I dip my paddle and leave the sacred spot and head back to camp. The loons belong here. This is their pond, even more than it is mine. I have watched the loons for 60 years, here at Swan Pond. I am a captive audience, always scanning the water’s surface, looking for one regal head and maybe another, watching it dive, than coming up yards away from where it went down. It really is a dance. Who am I to say it isn’t?



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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1996294-DANCING-WITH-THE-LOONS