Action at the Lake: Mostly Wings

At first glance, the Lake appears calm, with few seeking pleasure from its waters on this hot summer Thursday. Out on the lake there are a couple of water skiers, and a child sitting in a green tube being pulled mindfully by a boat, but the few other watercraft seem to be heading purposefully straight across from point A to B.

For me, it will be an active work day at the Lake. Today, I am to help finish painting the cabin’s railing and begin on the windows. I am to learn, too, that many others are also working here, but surprisingly… most have wings…

In the birdhouse under the eave, tree swallow chicks wait for momma and papa to bring collected mosquitoes and other protein. The adults’ black wing feathers flash cobalt blue in the sun as the avians dart busily back and forth.

A few prehistoric dragonflies skim through the air near shore, also stalking insects, while out in the middle of the lake a couple of mew gulls wheel, then dip to the surface, catching lunch, or perhaps teaching their young how to fish. There are more mew gulls flying about today than ever seen here together before.

A black military helicopter turns tight circles and buzzes the open water — testing the pilot or perhaps the machine. (I muse later if it has in fact been scouting ahead for the floatplanes.)

A neighbor walks out into the lake to do some underwater mowing. He tosses a long-handled T-shaped metal object smoothly and surely like a fisherman tosses out his line. The man tows it toward him with the ease of repetition, then casts it ahead again. The perpendicular blades on the end of the handle cut the unwanted reeds near the sandy lakebed. The man gathers these mown reeds and takes them ashore. Will they become compost or go directly to the transfer site with the rest of his garbage..?

A bald eagle soars overhead to land in a preferred perch, a sprucetop two houses over, from which it surveys its domain for a tasty nibble, perhaps for itself or perhaps for its young.

The unmistakable whining roar of a two-engine aircraft growls suddenly overhead — so close! The white airplane circles to the opposite side of the lake, and we realize that there are two. The Lake watercraft turn off their engines. The floatplanes come in ostensibly for a landing — but that is not why they are here: water fills their pontoons, slowing their progress across the surface, visibly making it harder for them to take-off (their ascent is markedly more gradual than their approach), but they do lift off. The planes, now loaded with liquid cargo, head in the direction of the forest fire near Munson Creek. About an hour later they are back, flying again directly over the cabin before circling and dipping into the water without a pause. 

By the time it is time to call it a day, my work is not done, and I’ll be back again sometime soon to join the others still a-work at their daily labors.

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