It began on a sunny afternoon June 10 at 4 p.m. I was cleaning debris at my home on Long Lake that were left by receding floodwaters after torrential rains had pummeled the area for days. As I raked sodden grass and drowned flowers, a pair of loons swam quietly by me. I retreated to dry land and sat to watch as the pair hastily made a nest upon my hidden garden path.

This process continued for perhaps an hour and I sat in fascination as the male loon swam away time after time only to return with a beak full of grass and straw.

Panic set in as I soon realized that this pair of loons were evicted from their normal breeding area by floodwaters and had chosen our lawn and path for a new home. I asked myself, what would happen when the water ebbed and my lawn and rocks were all that was left. How would this pair make it back to the lake?

I quickly made a call to the local animal control officer and was told not to disturb the loons or the nest, they would adapt to the new nesting area.

Quietly, I returned to my gazing spot to resume watching nature at its best. To my surprise, the pair had left for a swim and sitting majestically on the bed of fresh straw sat a perfect oval egg the shade of mocha with little tiny brown spots.

I retreated as mama and dad loon realized I was near. They quickly let me know with a haunting howl that my presence was not acceptable.

For the next three days, I watched from a safe distance as they routinely changed places swimming and warming the newly laid egg. Each day I approached, eventually getting within two feet of mother, nest and egg. She did not seem to mind as I gazed and admired her vigilance. Mama loon would sit for hours waiting for dad to reprieve her after sending howling messages across the lake.

I took pictures each day to share with family and friends, sending them via email and Facebook. Our loon family was soon famous and I updated “loon status” daily.

Word spread locally and our nice quiet oasis was soon busy with gazers. Realizing that although they were tolerant of us, privacy might be nice. My husband and neighbor came to the rescue with a bright orange snow fence to guard the nest and loons.

Independence Day came and went without a peep from mama and dad as fireworks burst above their new home. July 7, exactly 28 days since our new family moved in, we sat anxiously waiting for a sight of “baby.” Research had told us that they normally hatched within 25-28 days and we were hoping they would follow suite.

At exactly 5:45 p.m. mama stood up abruptly, cried for her mate and we gasped as a little head emerged beneath mama’s wing. Baby had arrived. Mama continued bellowing for her mate with haunting repetition. Ever so quietly, he emerged from beneath the water and climbed over the now-exposed rock wall to join his mate and new baby.

It was an amazing sight to see but I could not help but think once again that privacy might be nice. The group that had amassed to witness the event hastily took pictures, much like the paparazzi. We retreated to give the new family some alone time.

The next morning, early at sunrise I heard both mama and dad crying back and forth frantically. I ran to the nest only to find it empty!My heart sank as I assumed the worst. I grabbed my binoculars and searched the lake looking for “our family.”

Thankfully, I spotted them bouncing lazily on the waves and, to my surprise, baby was bobbing up and down next to mama and dad.

Each day I sit on my dock or in my kayak, binoculars in hand, and scan the lake for a glimpse of the family. I was happily rewarded as they came into view and I listened to the cries as they swam lazily along.

This is truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience that I am happy to share with all. Pictures and words hardly do the experience justice but I hope you enjoyed “our experience” even a little bit.

If loons really do mate for life and return to the same nesting spot, then perhaps I will get to share this exciting event once again!

Rhonda McBurnie-Frisch is a seasonal resident of Long Lake in Naples.

Rhonda McBurnie-Frisch, a summer resident of Long Lake in Naples, watched in June as a pair of loons, uprooted from their usual nesting spot due to flooding, took up residence on her property beside the lake and hatched a baby loon.    Courtesy photos
LoonsMother and child