Tag Archives: loon

Cape Cod in Late April Part 2

A couple of loons

Last Monday I posted a bunch of photos I took of Osprey.  All of these photos were taken in an hour.  I was on Cape Cod on a “stay-cation” at my cottage for four days without any work.  So what did I do for the other three days, 23 hours?  Well, here are some more photos ;)

Swan on Swan Pond

I have seen very few loon on The Cape.  This time I saw several on two different bodies of water.  I saw as many as three together and often saw two.  I didn’t hear that call they make.  Last year in Maine, at dusk, I sat and listened to loons call.  It is a magical sound…  However, at the end of April on Cape Cod, I did hear them “talk”.  They made sounds back and forth.  Very cool, if not quite the chilling call. Continue reading



I heard the lonely loon’s cry
Piercing the tranquil evening
I saw the cold stars
Bold as if man never existed
An explosion of flowers greeted me
The last gasp before the dead of winter
An eagle hung on the sky
Not a human sound could be heard
Far from every eye or ear
I heard the lonely loon’s cry
Piercing my heart
I thought of you Continue reading

Immature Loon

Immature Loon

The other day I went down to one of my favorite little walks, Bells Neck in Harwich.  I got out of the car and walked towards the herring ladder.  There is a pool of water above the flume, a little smooth inlet away from the main pond.  I saw a bird between the parking lot and the water, a largish bird.  Not eagle big, or Great Blue Heron big, but something with the body the size of a Canadian Goose but a much shorter neck.

I walked pretty close, and it only half watched me.  But then I got Fiyero out of the car and it lifted it’s head and kept a sharp, red eye on the dog.

I wasn’t sure what it was, but it looked familiar.  I thought “Loon”, but it was the wrong color.  Besides, I had never seen a Loon on the Cape.  In Canada and northern Maine, sure, but Cape Cod?  Nope. Continue reading

The Call of the Loon


The trees at the top of the cliff on the north shore burned with the last golden light ,slowly fading to grey. I was floating on a depthless void, skimming over a transparent silver surface. All was as still and quiet as I’d ever seen it in my life. I noticed a darker shape carving its way through the fragile layer of quick silver, slow approaching me. I stopped paddling. The still became complete, the silence deep.

But not for long.

A haunting cry emerged from the dark shape, a loud sound. Half of a second later it echoed off the near shore then off of the lightly glowing cliffs. Soon the echoes came from the cliffs behind me and then from an island a kilometer away. The echoes re-echoed through the reverberations. Wave upon wave of the haunting call swirled around the lake, now louder, now softer. How long did it last? Was it 15 seconds or 20? Was it an eternity?

As the final reverbs slowly died the call came again, as loud as a trumpet blast, a trumpet from the past.

This was a call from my childhood, a call that haunted my dreams. Continue reading