October 4, 2020: A Melancholy Day on the Lake

It's possible our loon parents have left the lake, and Harold and Betty are missing them terribly.  Yesterday I found them together, swimming slowly all the way down in Marion Cove, searching for their parents.  

Harold and Betty in perhaps their first exploration of Marion Cove.

It was the first time I've seen them north of Bryant Island, let alone all the way around the corner in our cove.  I'm certain they were out trying to find mom and dad.  

"Where are you mom?"

One of them was constantly wailing out the saddest sounds I've ever heard a loon make.   Click below to listen (sorry for all the background noise).

One of the two siblings showed me their wings and their maturing flight feathers which will soon be taking them off the only body of water they have ever known, and on to the foreign, salt-water world of the Atlantic Ocean.

"I can fly with these now!"

They are certainly looking like young adults now.

I wonder what it is that makes the parents decide it's time to leave their offspring all on their own.  Do they wait until the chicks have proven adept at fishing and have made good progress in their flight lessons?  Or is it something in their instincts that just makes them up and leave one day, never to see their kids again?  It's hard enough for parents and children when the kids leave the nest even when you know you see them again - I can't imagine what it's like for a loon family at separation time, but I guess those melancholy sounds give me an idea.

On a happier note, (no pun intended), our trees seems to have come though the drought this summer just fine.  I had wondered if the foliage would be muted this year due to a lack of rain but that doesn't seem to be the case.

They may not be as brilliant as some years, but I still give them a 7 or 8 out of 10.  And it's not just near the lakes, but the mountains are beautiful also.  This week I was on Mount Whiteface with a friend (thanks for the great hike JL!) and the colors were just about peak there in the southern White Mountains.

The drainage that feeds the Wonalancet River between Mt. Whiteface and Passaconway.

Farther down the drainage, with Mt. Chorcorua in the distance.

Central and northern New Hampshire had a little more rain than farther south; in another week or two we'll see what the forests to the south have to offer.  I met two people from Townsend Mass on the Hamlin Trails yesterday who said the leaves in Massachusetts were just falling off the trees.

If you've been out at all you have noticed that color isn't the only thing in abundance right now.  The oak trees are putting out another tremendous acorn crop, just a couple of years after the last one.  

Just a fraction of the acorns collected below one red oak tree.

Spent acorn caps from a branch knocked off in the wind.

That was the year we had "squirrel-ageddon".  This year someone called it a "chipmunk-apolypse" - there are chipmunks running around everywhere!  These high mast years bring about a large spike in the rodent population, which in turn will enable a healthy predator population of hawks, owls, fox, and ermine.  But even with all those chipmunks collecting acorns, soon to be followed by the deer, bears, and turkeys, they are so plentiful that many nuts will missed or forgotten and will germinate to create new oak trees next spring.

Speaking of turkeys, they continue to be quite visible around the lakes.  I came upon a flock up in the Oakland Cemetery a couple of days ago, and before that, a few took a stroll through our back yard.

I just caught the last one in line as the flock scurried into the woods.

What a strange looking bird.

All summer long turkeys have been turning up the oak leaves to uncover last years acorns buried under the leaf litter.

Ruffled up leaves from the turkey's acorn hunt.

This activity slowed during the middle of summer when lots of other food was available, but it has increased again the past couple of weeks.  

I'll close with a few more examples of nature's autumn glory, including colors across the spectrum, red to purple - even all the colors combined together: white.

Nodding Ladies Tresses, one of my favorite, delicate, fall flowers.

From the red of the hobblebush viburnum,

To the purple asters,

Fabulous fall colors surround us everywhere we look.

Update:  I just heard from someone that they think they saw an adult with the chicks this morning in the fog - more to follow.

12:00 noon update: I'm at the boat ramp doing my Lake Host duties, and one chick and one parent are here fishing right in front of me!  So maybe yesterday was just a trial run, letting the chicks know what to prepare for.  Or maybe they just needed a weekend away.  I'll assume the second chick is with the other parent; I'll keep watching.