Heard the plea of the loon long before I saw him. There he was...in the far distant corner,
barely visible...between the grasses of the carmel coloured waters.
Each night just after sunset, I would wait in anticipation of hearing the wail and with hope of seeing the one
who sang the nocturnal song keeping in contact with other loons on Peninsula Lake in Muskoka.
Those echos always seem to stop time for me, if only for a brief moment.
*sound included*
Will try to get to comments a bit later...so much to do after returning.:o)