November winds blow strong from the north. The next day they blow strong from the south. It edges around to south-southwest, and sometimes back to northwest and north again.
Then one morning, the wind is gone. The surface of the lake lies like glass. The far shore reflects perfectly as dawn ever so slowly lights the sky. Time to paddle.
The sun rises above the forest in a glow of red and gold. Skinny clouds catch the light and reflect it back to the lake. I launch the canoe in the silence of the morning. November morning. Quiet lies thick upon the land.
Earlier in the month there were two young loons swimming out there most days. I had not seen them in a while. Maybe I could find them if I went looking.
There is no one on the lake but me. My paddle glides silently through the water. I am immersed in the depth of the quiet … until I hear the loon call. It is far, far away. All the way in the north end of the lake it must be. I stop paddling so I can listen better. One loon calling out to the morning. There is no reply.
Is it the last to stay?
When the sun has risen all the way, I hear a couple of ravens at the western shore. That’s all. One lonely loon and a pair of ravens. The silence returns.
There, ahead … ripples on the water. The other loon? Or? Again I stop paddling and watch. If it was the loon, it will have to come up again soon. The canoe drifts to where the ripples originated. A half dozen bubbles float on the flat of the lake.
Looking behind, I see a path of little bubbles left by my paddle. Now, some distance away, there are ripples again. Again, I do not see who made them.
It has been a warm month, so not all the swimmers have headed south. Half way along the east shore are four bufflehead ducks. A little further along, two mergansers flap at the water as they take flight. Maybe they wait for the north wind to help them on their journey south.
I haven’t seen any beavers, nor any beaver houses for that matter. But I do see some fresh beaver sticks. I gather these from the shore. They fit nicely in the canoe. I’ll use them to build something over the winter. Shelves maybe, or candle holders. Or maybe I’ll just let them dry to sit on the windowsill and look beautiful.
I’m out for hours on this amazing autumn day. And already looking forward to the next time the wind dies down. Paddle season is not over yet.
Viki Mather has been commenting for Northern Life on the natural world and life in Greater Sudbury since the spring of 1984. Got a question or idea for Viki? Send an email to [email protected].
