The view is east. From the bathroom. And this morning fairly early I saw a couple-spike buck still in velvet on the mowed area just a few feet away. He moseyed on, walking funny—couldn’t tell if it was a limp or something wrong with his hips. My eyes lifted to the sky. Clouds obscured to still-low sun, with nice cloud layers portending a fine sunrise, from the right angles. I finished my personal business and grabbed the Big Cam and headed down to the beach, stepping high to try to keep the drops remaining from yesterday’s rain from penetrating to my toes. Didn’t work. Still, the view of the lake from the bluff was terrific.
I descended and walked to the end of the dock (TY, M&D), and soaked in the views. To the southeast were three loons keeping company, and maybe doing a toned down version of the circling we observed earlier this year. Soon I heard loon calls from east around the point in the photograph and to the southwest, as well as from the trio. I even managed to record a bit of it. (Not being as talented and experienced as KW, I offer you the story and not an audio or video clip.)
Anyway, while I was soaking and didn’t have the camera stuck to my face, I saw a very large bird arrive in silhouette fluttering his/her wings to land on one of the dead branches you see poking skyward on the end of the point. Cra-a-ack, I heard, and the wings fluttered and the big feathered shape disappeared back along the shore to the east as a dead limb fell into the center of the very tree you’re looking at above. S/he returned maybe 4-5 minutes later and fluttered, but did not land, perhaps remembering distant times when this was a good spot to fish from, and also remembering the perils of the previous landing attempt.