the loons were loud. Two of them, maybe three, all engaged in busy squawking chatter that didn’t resemble their standard mournful cry. The rapid-fire exchange suggested that they were reacting to a disturbance or a threat, most likely some unwelcome creature near the nest. The signature sound of the loon is a solitary sound. It’s a haunting cry of undeniable beauty with an undercurrent of sorrow. An announcement of peaceful northern isolation, the Thoreau of birds. The sound is a lie, though. Loons are not solitary, nor are they peaceful. The loon’s life is a violent one. The birds will stab
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