We had
paddled to the remote site. It's about a seven mile paddle, which is a lot if you haven't been in a canoe for two years. I was exhausted.
I slept like the dead.
I awoke the next morning pre-dawn. I couldn't hear a sound. So I crept towards the shore and quietly I sat on a stump.
William was sitting right at the water's edge. He sat comfortably in a relaxed
meditative posture I recognized... at the edge of
the calm lapping waves.
Across from him, floating in the water were about thirty birds. Suddenly I heard William emit a squawk...
Seven or eight of the birds across from him in the calm lake - they squawked back.
I thought, "What kind of man gets up pre-dawn to talk to the birds? And have the birds talk back."
I had never seen such a thing before.
He sang out a crazy atonal call. A loon surfaced about 20 feet in front of William, shook water loose from its head and sang the crazy haunting loon's call we are all so familiar with in the northern regions of a million lakes and endless miles of wild muskeg.
The loon's call seemed crazier and far louder because it was so close. Then there was
utter silence. Another loon surfaced across the Bay and called back. Loons are monogamous, I'm told. They mate for life.
There was a long expanse of silence. I didn't want to be detected. I didn't want to spoil the spell. I sat very still on the stump and breathed through my nose.
William lit a fire with the driftwood near the shore. He was quiet about it. A slight wind blew from across the lake making the flames flicker brightly. The birds had drawn closer.
William was chanting a song. His voice rose and fell. The ducks made duck sounds.
A lip of northern lights rose up in an arc above the water. William's voice is raised in a prayer. His arms are spread wide. He is saying the Lord's prayer. He is asking the Lord of Hosts to bless us all.
I stood up quietly and withdrew into the tent.
Maybe it was just my imagination, but I swear I heard a voice chanting out from the lips of the Northern Lights, echoing across the calm lake.
A shower of stars fell across the sky.
My name is Walt. I am from New Jersey. I've never seen anything like this before. I lie down in my sleeping bag and pretend to sleep.
I look out the clear screen window. The flotilla of birds is still there. The chant continues.
(C) 2008-2018 by W.G. Milne
