It was the call of the loon that pulled me onto the dock early this morning, my coffee and camera in tow.
As it moved about not too far off, I noticed that it started turning in circles. It appeared to be listening and looking . . . and not for fish.
Suddenly, from behind me, there was movement in the sky and I began to understand. If you look carefully, you will also begin to understand.
A mature eagle had entered the neighborhood.
For some reason, the loon moved closer.
And then an immature eagle appeared. So did my next-door-neighbor, who walked quietly onto the dock with her camera. Together, we watched, barely exchanging any words as we didn’t want to disturb the scene.
Eventually the older bird flew up to a perfect viewing spot on a nearby island, rearranging a couple of twigs to create a mini-platform from which to watch the world.
The younger bird stayed a bit longer and then it flew toward the north end Moose Pond.
A few hours later, my guy and I also headed north, traveling a route we typically follow with our kayaks. Our mode of transportation on this day was the S.S. Christmas, our Maine Guide boat.
As we moved along, I felt a tickle on my leg and looked down to see that Sir Lance, the lancet clubtail dragonfly, had joined us for the journey. He came and went several times and then left us alone as we moved into a territory occupied by other species of dragonflies.
Among the islands we moved, keeping an eye on the bottom for the water is quite shallow and our boat precious. So are we. And the camera!
Eventually we ran out of mini-channels to follow for so carpet-like was the display of lily pads before us.
I would have been content to drift, but my guy is a doer and he needed to be doing something. And so he rowed.
As I turned around to see what I might see, I saw a hitchhiker up under the bow–a dock or fishing spider! The rule was, if it didn’t bother me, I wouldn’t bother it. And so it went for the remainder of our journey together, though I’m not sure he departed when we returned to the dock.
Anyway, back to our adventure. We were approaching one of the islands we sometimes stop on when we snowshoe in the winter–it’s a fine place to enjoy a PB&J sandwich. And then I spied something in the tall pine. An owl? I’ve listened to a Barred Owl the past few nights.
My guy rowed closer and we realized it was the immature eagle.
And so at last we sat still. For a long while. And watched. And waited. And listened. And saw calico pennant dragonflies.
But it was the eagle that really drew our attention.
Behind us fish jumped and we fully expected the bird to scream down our way with its talons extended.
But it didn’t. Instead, it panted like a dog. The day was warm, especially up in the islands where the wind was blocked.
It also preened.
And occasionally it looked our way–mostly when my guy’s feet moved a bit and his crocs squeaked, sounding rather like another eagle. Their highpitched call always surprises me for it seems rather weak for such powerful birds that draw our awe and wonder with each sighting.
At last the eagle flew south, apparently not at all interested in any fish . . . or painted turtles. And we made our way south as well.
We were almost back to the dock when Sir Lance landed on my leg again. I placed my pointer finger in front of him and he climbed onto it. How cool is that?
Another fun Mondate aboard the S.S. Christmas with my guy–and another opportunity to exert our eagle eyes!
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