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| Claire de Loon enjoying our bathtub |
A long
and eerie wolf-like howl emanated from our main floor bathroom.
There was no mistaking that sound. It was the call of a female loon,
searching for her mate: “I'm here. Where are you?”
We
found the bird, close to death, collapsed on the shoreline of Bowen
Island BC. She didn't resist when I bent to pick her up, tucking her
into a sweater for the ride to our house. Loons are large,
beautiful waterbirds native to the northern hemisphere, nesting on
lakes and rivers and returning to the ocean for the winter months.
They have strong, straight bills that can quickly spear an escaping
fish, or unwary human hands. Loons have large feet, and short wings,
necessitating a long awkward run on the water's surface to become
airborne. Anyone who has grown up near a lake or river is probably
familiar with their hauntingly beautiful cry.
Arriving
at our house we placed Claire de Loon in a secluded workshop near our
kitchen, keeping her confined so that we could administer drugs,
water and food. The Vancouver Stanley Park Zoo bird specialist
suggested using a veterinary syringe to squirt a liquid mash of
ground fish, vitamin B, and antibiotics down her throat. He said,
“Don't bring her to us. She won't survive the stress of the car
and boat trip. Help her if you can, but she's likely too sick to
survive.”
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| 1983 releasing Claire de Loon |
As
it turned out, squirting the liquid into the sick bird was a
two-person job; one to hold the bird and her sharp beak still and the
other one to squirt the goo. First one week passed, and then
another. By now our resident loon was feeling quite perky. We were
able stop force-feeding her, instead we tossed pieces of fish towards
her. She caught the food mid-air and greedily gulped it down. The
local marina operator was amused at how much we were spending on
herring and other bait fish, especially since we seldom, if ever,
went fishing.
At
the end of the second week we decided to move her into our bathtub so
that she could exercise, and preen her feathers in preparation for
release. Whenever we heard Claire de Loon call her weirdly thrilling
cry, I would quietly crack open the bathroom door to see what she was
doing. The sound would stop! When I shut the door – she would
start up again. She was missing her mate, missing her freedom. It
was time, time to let her go.
We
tucked Claire de Loon into a cardboard box, and drove to Killarney
Lake in the centre of Bowen Island. It was a perfect place to let
her recover her strength. She had fresh water to drink, a big lake
for swimming, and lots of fish and aquatic critters to feast on. It
was loon heaven.
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| Loony Happy Dance! |
I
released her, expecting her to fly away from her captors as quickly
as possible but we got an unexpected thrill.
Claire de Loon stayed
nearby for at least ten minutes, trilling her call, doing a
loon-happy-dance on the lake! She was happy! We were happy.
Watching her brought tears to my eyes.
Later
in the day when we were scrubbing out the bathroom to make it useable
for us, we discovered the downside to letting a loon recuperate in
your bathtub. The acid in the loon poop completely removed the
enamel surface of the tub. Ah well, it was worth it to see her
healthy and happy.
Dance
on Claire de Loon, dance on.
Great you-tube video of loons:
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