Dialogue with a Loon

 

This morning Travalon and I set out after he watched Wolverhampton lose to the Toffees. We drove to Rib Mountain and took a vigorous hike on the rocky trail on the top, then we took a short walk on the Bearskin Trail. We got to the church in Manitowish Waters not long before Mass started at 5:30, and afterwards they had set up rows of very aesthetically pleasing but slightly stale snacks as we left church. Travalon took popcorn, and I took a cup with fruit, cheese, and pretzels, but I was intrigued by the cups with what looked like it would top a Bloody Mary: pickle, sausage, cheese, and cherry tomatoes. It was that last part that made me go for the other kind of cup. 

We got to our cabin (Bear Spot), the same one we stayed in last year, and unpacked, then we went to Shillelagh Irish Pub. It had burned down a couple of years ago, the day after St. Patrick's Day, and last year it was an all outdoor affair with a food truck, but they have rebuilt. They still have the amazing Guinness and (don't read this part, Jilly Moose) mushroom soup, and Travalon also had a shepherd's pie while I had half of a fancy grilled cheese sandwich with bacon and grilled onions. (Guess what I'll be having for breakfast?) There was a stage that said live entertainment from 6-9, but nothing was going on until some school-aged girls were singing and dancing and playing with hula hoops. I thought how they will remember this night as magical, and I felt all warm and fuzzy about it until one of them ran past me and whacked me with her hula hoop. That's kids for you - they make you feel all fond of them until they do something totally stupid.

When we got back to the cabin, we walked down to the beach and sat on chaise lounges, gazing up at the stars. We saw some satellites and some meteorites and what seemed to be some northern lights activity, although it was hard to tell with the bright half moon. There was a band in the distance loudly playing all sorts of random things, from Earth, Wind and Fire to Journey, and a loon called from somewhere across the lake. The band played a Styx song, "Renegade," so we talked about Good Styx (Tommy Shaw songs) vs. Evil Styx (Dennis DeYoung songs.) I said Chicago had the same thing, although Peter Cetera isn't so much evil as insipid, and I started singing, "Ooh-ooh-ooh," the way Peter Cetera does in every song he writes. To our surprise, the loon called back, so we started singing things like "Indian Love Song," and for a little bit we had quite a dialogue going with the loon, but eventually it tired of responding to us. Maybe it was more of a "trialogue," but the loon responded more to my voice than Travalon's, probably because mine is so much higher pitched. It made me so happy - I come to the North Woods partly to see and hear loons. Maybe tomorrow we can take out one of the watercraft here, and if we're really lucky, we might see the loon swimming alongside us. Stay tuned!

Famous Hat