What I Learned from the Loon

My partner saw it first, about one hundred feet away from our big cedar freighter canoe.  He pointed it out to me but I wasn’t wearing my distance glasses and I couldn’t make it out.  He kept telling me where it was over and over again, as it made its way through the water.  It was getting closer and closer and then suddenly, my eyes and my visual cortex connected and I saw it.  A single loon quietly gliding through the water. 

The loon passed by our boat without even looking at us and continued toward a small bay in Canary Island which was named for the abundance of Wild Canaries or Goldfinches.  We were planning to go into the same bay before we saw the loon, but now we didn’t want to disturb it.  So, we stayed where we were and watched. The loon just continued on its serene journey.

I thought about how iconic the loon is to people in Ontario and other parts of Canada.  It is a symbol of the northern lakes, of the wildish spaces that people build cottages in, of getting away from the city.  The loon’s haunting call on a lake will stop most people in their tracks.  Somehow, every sighting, every call, is a gift, a kind of magic.  I wondered why it is that Canada Geese and Cormorants don’t seem to have the same magic for most people.  In fact, they can elicit quite the opposite response.

 I wondered if loons feel so special because there are so few of them that we see.   If we had large flocks of loons everywhere, would they seem so beautiful?  Apparently, they do flock in the winter on oceans and only come back to our north to breed and raise their young.  Here in Ontario, we don’t see them in flocks so we think of them as solitary birds or breeding pairs with young ones.

Or perhaps it is the long mournful cry and the echoes that occur on a still lake, especially at night. Here are two examples of their calls: 

Loons swim with their bellies under water so they are quite low already.  They have solid bones and can squeeze air out of their feathers so that they can sink into the water even further if they need to become less visible.  They are also very adept at diving and swimming under water, propelling themselves with their webbed feet.  Their legs are positioned quite far back on their bodies which makes them excellent swimmers but very awkward on land.  They only come onto land to make nests, lay eggs and hatch their young.  Then then spend the rest of their lives on the water or flying.  To get up into the air, they need a long stretch of water that they dance over before finally taking to the air.  They cannot take off from the land.

I kept watching the loon.  It had such a quiet, solid presence in the water.  If it sensed danger, it would simply sink down or dive and swim away.  It was in its element.  It calmly went about its business.  We wondered if there was a female loon somewhere on a nest or if this was a single loon.  Males and females look alike so we couldn’t tell what gender this particular loon was.

I liked the calmness of this bird and the fact that it didn’t care that we were nearby.  It knew that it could protect itself easily in case we became a threat.  I liked the solid feel that it had as I watched it.  I wondered what it would be like to mimic that loon as I went about my business. 

A few days later on a hot humid morning,I decided to swim in the lake before the boat traffic picked up.  The water was glassy and inviting.  The local residents’ association members were raking dead water plants that had washed up on the beach.  They volunteer to take care of the beach so that it is clean for those who wish to swim.  The water plants are piled up higher on the beach and my partner and I often come down with big bins to cart some of it home for our gardens.  It makes great mulch and compost. They have also adopted the corner space between the walking trail and the road to the beach.  Small gardens with perennials in them keep sprouting up and a bench has been added so that walkers and cyclists can take a rest overlooking the beautiful lake as well as the sunset.

But I was there to swim.  I swam to the end of the swimming area and made a ninety degree left turn to swim south along the shoreline.  There were a few boats on the water with me but they were far away.  I could hear the birds’ morning song in the trees along the shore and the gentle lap of the water as I did my slow breast stroke.  With only my head above the water, I felt like the loon swimming low.  I imagined myself making my way through life, supported and calm.  I know that some people don’t like to swim in lakes because they are afraid of all the other life forms that are in the lake.  I like to swim in lakes because then I feel connected to all the other-than-human life that is at home in the lake.  I take great pleasure in the privilege of being there with them all.

I thought about the fact that our bodies are roughly three quarters water.  I thought about the water inside of me and the water that I floated in.  It felt like I was in “my element”, as they say.  Then I remembered that according to Deepak Chopra, on an atomic level, we are ninety-nine per cent air.  We are made up of electrons whizzing around protons in space.  So, it would follow that while on land out there surrounded by air, we are also in our element.  The chemical elements that make up our physical bodies, such as oxygen, carbon, hydrogen and nitrogen come from what we ingest from food, fluids and breathing.  So, it would follow that when we are connected to Earth, then we are also in our element.  So, what about fire, the fourth element?  Well, the Sun is fire and its energy is transformed by plants into matter which we also eat, so in the sunshine, we are also in our element.

If you watch the news, the world seems to be full of strife and anxiety.  There is much to be concerned about and action should be taken on many issues.  It is easy to feel hopeless and afraid and become paralyzed or to grab at quick fix solutions.  What can we learn from nature when we design solutions?  What can I learn from this loon?

When people are scared and worried about scarcity, they often act badly and blame others for their fear.  When people are calm, they can use all of their intellect and intuition to create solutions.  Is it possible to mirror the loon’s calm alertness and feel supported by our environment?  Is it possible to know when to call, when to dive, when to fish, when to sink?

As I swam, I realized that I was being supported by the water all around me.  I float quite easily at this point in my life.  I needed to look around me for boats to stay safe.  I needed to decide where I wanted to go and then just navigate through the water calmly.  If a boat had come too close, I could simply swim to the shore and stay away from it.  I tried to feel “in my element”.  I embodied the feeling of support and my ability to navigate.  I loaded these sensations into my nervous system so that they would be available to me when the going gets nerve wracking.  I know that I can use my voice as does the loon to find my kin, my kindred spirits, my community.  I call up the density and peacefulness of that loon when I feel anxious.  I take slow deep breaths and remember the feeling of being in the water.  As I turn off the “stress response” I can once again access all of my intelligence and intuition and I can make good choices for myself, my kin, my community and my world.  And I am grateful for what the loon taught me.