"Dennis, we can't just leave it to die!" I cried out to my neighbor. As loon master for our lake up north, Dennis has asked me to kayak with him to check on an abandoned nest. Just as we paddled up we heard a peeping and saw a baby loon cracking open its egg. Oh oh. The parents had left the nest a day earlier with the first chick that hatched, never to return (so we learned later). "We have to do something!" I lamented. Cradling the dark grey mottled egg in my hands, we watched as the baby loon kept pecking away. Soon a wing emerged and eventually, a very wet, slimy chick was born with remnants of yolk still attached to what seemed like an umbilical cord. Reluctantly, we left it in the nest and quickly paddled back so I could hop on the phone to a wildlife rehab person. A hardworking, frazzled but kindly women named Ruth at The Ark in St. Helen, Michigan answered. She was pretty hesitant but I insisted so she finally agreed I could bring it in. Dennis and I rushed back to scoop up the now shivering loon chick and off I drove as quick as I could to The Ark with the baby loon chirping away constantly from under the warmth of my shirt. Don't die, please don't die, I thought as I attempted to make what I hoped were loon like sounds to the peeping chick, driving down the back roads near West Branch. I arrived in a swirl of dust just as Ruth pulled up with a bucket of minnows from a nearby bait shop. We quickly fed the little loon and sure enough it swallowed down three tiny minnows and immediately seemed to perk up. In short order I saw wild baby deer, flying baby squirrels, hawks and geese with broken wings, baby goslings and rabbits, and creatures in every nook and cranny of that amazing place. A short call to the loon expert brought the tough news that I would have to hussle it back to the lake to try to reunite the chick with its parents...anything else just would not work! So off I raced again, with my newborn charge, hoping to get it back before dark and the sun was setting fast! I jumped back into the kayak but where were the loons? The wind had picked up and here I was paddling, loon chirping away and I was frantic to get it back before nightfall. Finally I heard the distant call of a loon and I paddled as hard as I could till I got pretty close to one of the loons with one chick nestled on its back. I scooped up my little bundle of fluff and placed it on the paddle, extended it as close as I dared and, Plop, dropped it into the water and...hurrah, it floated! I spun around to leave and the mother loon rushed over and scooped it up onto her back. Success! I got quite the noisy scolding as I paddled away. Glancing back I was relieved to see the reunited loon family all swimming away. That night the haunting call of the loons had a special meaning for me and I smiled contentedly as I watched the loons floating in the moon splashed waves. [Update: Alas, neither chick made it to the end of the week as the resident bald eagle I suspect snatched them both away. Yet it was an amazing experience nonetheless!]
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