Paul Provost stood on the deck of friend Greg Gachowski’s
Raquette River Drive home, his hands clasped as though in prayer. Paul
was indeed making a supplication, but not one of prayer. Placing joined
hands to his pursed lips, he blew hard, and the result was a mournful wail
— the signature call of the common loon!
From across the river in a bay of Lake Simond came an answering wail. A
wail so like the one created by Paul that it could have been an echo. It
was not an echo, however. It was one of a pair of loons that in the past
two years has adopted Lake Simond as their territory.
The haunting cry of the loon, the very epitome of wilderness, to be heard
so close to the village almost daily, and especially early in the morning
or late at night, has to be termed extraordinary.
It is extraordinary because, for one thing, loons return each spring to
an increasingly hostile environment.
Along with many other man-made threats to their survival — including harassment
by boaters, loss of nest sites by high water, mercury poisoning on their
wintering grounds, and the increasing acidification on so many of our local
ponds — the loons chances have become severely threatened. My neighbor
and former school chum, Herb Trimm, who has returned here in retirement,
sums it up best: “I love to hear the loons across the pond. It reminds
me so of the remote ponds I visited as a youngster growing up in this God’s
country. The best part is that it could indicate that Lake Simond has retained
its clean water, its sizable fish population and its uncluttered surroundings.
We are so lucky to live here!”
Paul Provost agrees with Herb and adds that loons mate for life and return
to the same lake year after year. The very fact that for the second year
in a row the residents of Lake Simond have watched two chicks, hitching
a ride on their parents back, which is a striking example of breeding success
and insures in part that the loons have found a safe haven and will return
(if they have a safe migration) next year.
It should be pointed out that Paul only calls loons in August. There are
several reasons for this:
First, early in the spring, loons are very territorial and could possibly
be upset by Paul’s rendition of another loon. Secondly, he doesn’t want
to disturb them while they are nesting, or later, when the chicks are not
capable of swimming or diving. Only when they reach the juvenile stage
at this time of year does he call to them.
Despite the loons threatened existence elsewhere, local observers like
Joyce Thomas, Inge Sapp, Dawn Andrews, Greg Smith, Charlcie Delehanty,
and Cindy Lewis, to mention a few, report a healthy population and high
rate of breeding success in this area. Mrs. Delehanty notes that loons
can’t fly until they are eleven weeks old. This means that they are confined
to the lakes where they are born for that period and increases the accuracy
and the ease in assessing breeding success. Only one pair of loons in the
ten traditional areas surveyed by local observers failed to raise young
(Eagle Crag/Sapp). One hatchling was lost to predation (Hitchins Pond/Andrews),
and one nesting pair only incubated a single egg (Lows Lake/Andrews).
Sometime next month, the young loons will migrate separately without their
parents to the Atlantic Ocean. They will remain there for two or more years
until they reach sexual maturity. How do they find their way the first
time? How do returning loons time their arrival to coincide precisely with
ice out? Science doesn’t have these answers. We can only hope that this
area will continue to be a safe refuge.
Loon vocalizations
The loons vocalizations that Paul Provost can masterfully imitate (see
today’s Transitions column) are listed here with their meanings:
Wail — The signature call. Long, drawn out. Mostly at night or evening
to locate other loons or to tell mate it’s time to change places on the
nest.
Tremolo — Known as the laugh of the insane, a quavering call that is
a sign of disturbance.
Yodel — This call is made only by the male. A slow, rising note followed
by a series of repeated phrases the more it is agitated. Used when defending
or establishing territory.
Hoot — Calm, soft, one-note call given by loons swimming near each other
when fishing or when trying to keep chicks nearby.
Combination — This call is sometimes combined with wail. Always tremolo
comes first. It may mean loons want to interact (wail) but for some reason
feel threatened (tremolo).