The pair of loons on Armour Lake in Northern Wisconsin have successfully produced a chick. I watched the family for two weeks while I was staying at our cabin there. Their sometimes other-worldly cries during the dead of night are enough to rouse images of windigos or manitou spirits haunting the forests. But the two adult loons and baby were a welcome sight, diving for a minnow and surfacing to feed the chick. The chick, about half the size of the parents, is soft and fluffy gray-brown and sticking close to mom and dad. But already it is arching its head into the water to look for food. It won't be long until it begins to dive. Several years ago when closing the cabin in October, I was going for a last kayak ride around the lake. The air was cold and snowflakes began to fall. I spotted the lone chick, now separated from it's parents who were no where to be seen. They had already migrated. I feared the baby was stuck there, unable to find it's way or even fly. Later I learned that this is normal for loons. The adults congregate and migrate together, leaving the juveniles to fend for themselves. They group together and miraculously find their way. As I paddled in, the young loon took some tentative flaps, gained speed, and flew, circling the lake as if to show me it could indeed fly. I'm certain it made it's way to the Gulf or southern coast and perhaps is one of the adults now raising its own young on the lake.
