Evan, Randy, and other loons

Evan came to visit us at the camp.  As soon as he arrived, it started raining.  I finished the evening's sausages in the microwave because the grill was drowned.

The next morning we awoke to a dark and gloomy day.  The weather report was less promising than the view over the lake.

"You'd better go paddle now if you're going to do it," said sage Mary.  Smart people take Mary's advice to heart.  We also took her advice.

朝食前 (Chōshoku mae) is what a coworker once told me is the Japanese phrase loosely meaning "very easy."  Literally, it means "before breakfast."  I don't think he was talking about kayaking, but that was our timing.

Evan in the mist.

We paddled through the quiet cloud.  Upon rounding the bend in the channel that opens into Lily Lake, we spied a dark head close to the water.  

Evan on Lily lake.

On days like this, the common saying is "It's great weather for ducks."  I believe it is even better weather for loons.  

Upon closer inspection, it was not one dark head, but two!

Mama and baby.

As we floated downwind, our boats came closer and closer to the loons.  Baby can dive now, so Mom was not terribly concerned.  Or perhaps like the hummingbirds, they've seen me enough to identify me as the innocuous old fool that I am.  Mom saw me, but paid little attention.  The two of them casually swam within a few feet of my boat and on toward deeper water.

"Hey, Mom, look at these two staying on the surface.
Can't they dive?"

Just before we pulled ashore and out of the increasing drizzle, Evan noted Papa in the shallow bay across the channel from neighbor Pete's dock.  Unusual.  I rarely see them in shallow water where they can't disappear into the depths in a flash.  The gloomy conditions must foster confidence in the loons.  

Clearly, it was a great day for loons.  At least Evan and I thought so.