A Loon story

Loon sighting in the Grand Canyon
By: John Volkman

A few years back my neighbor Allon, AKA Big Al, and I were at an airport in Minnesota waiting for a connecting, return flight from a hunting trip in South Dakota. While killing time, Al had purchased from an airport gift shop, a book and a wooden instrument that was two inches square and about ten inches long resembling a large flute.
“What’s that for Big Al?" I ask.
“It's a Loon book and a Loon call. Listen to this” he says. Then he proceeds to blow into it: “loodle-loodle-loodle-loodle...”
“Now what are you going to do with that Allon?"
“Oh, these are really trick birds that make a great sound. Just listen. “Loodle-loodle-loodle-loodle. They’re a duck that normally lives up around Michigan in the cool climate. Look at this picture in the book”
“Hey Al, that’s great. Now let’s get out of here before they arrest you for blowing that thing in public."

That was my introduction of hearing a loon and seeing a picture of one. Until one day several years later, I’m piloting a 22 foot long, Chubasco whitewater raft, floating through Marble Canyon, the upper stretch of the Colorado River of the Grand Canyon. In my early Grand Canyon days, like all rookie Grand Canyon boatmen paying their dues, I was rowing my first baggage boat trip. The Park service won’t allow anyone else aboard with you for the 12 day river trip. You’re virtually on a solo trip. Naturally at lunch and during camp at night you’d be part of the group. On the river, you learn to occupy your mind by reading moving water and contemplating the geologically mind-boggling canyon walls while floating the flat water alone.
Nancy, a veteran guide and Trip leader, was floating about one hundred yards downstream and Randy Popillia another guide about the same distance upstream from me. Feeling all alone on the river, enjoying the solitude, I'm startled by a hollow flute sound that goes “loodle-loodle-loodle-loodle. Just a few feet off the front of my boat I spot a black and white duck floating in the current about the same speed as me. It’s a Loon! One of those ducks that Allon had shown me in the book and graced my ear with the smooth rhythmic sound.
Since this is my first Canyon trip, with too much time on my hands, I’m documenting most of what I see and hear on this trip. This looks like a good photo opportunity so I open my waterproof Pelican box and extract a 35 mm camera for such occasions. Not having any sense of urgency, I carefully focus and compose the shot. Right when I am about to snap the picture he suddenly pokes his head under the surface and dives out of sight.
“Damn." Oh well, he’s got to come up soon and when he does I’ll get the shot. So I wait, and I wait, still floating downstream past the canyon walls. Too much time passes and I can’t figure where he’s gone. I lose interest and put the camera away.
“loodle-loodle-loodle-loodle."
“Crap." The noise startled me. He came up behind me and is floating again. Once again I quickly pull the camera out, fumble to focus, and then splash, he dives again. Isn’t this the pits? The second time he surfaced he was further from the boat. I figure it’ll be too far away if he does it again so I abandon the idea.
A short while later as we’re pulling in to a sandy beach for lunch Nancy calls over to me and to my surprise having witnessed the hide and seek game with the duck, says ”John, did you get the shot of the Loon ?”
“No, the little sucker dove before I could get the picture”
“Pity” she says. “The Loon is an undocumented specie in the Grand Canyon and had you gotten the shot would have been proof positive of a rare visit in the Grand Canyon.” Even with Nancy being a trip leader, isn’t proof enough for the Park service to recognize their existence here.
The funny part of this story is if Big Al hadn’t purchased and played that crazy flute that produces a remarkably close replication, I’d have never even given that black and white duck a second thought.
Thanks for the bird watching lesson Big Al.