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The setting sun casts a glow over a lonely lake and Pacific loon near Sterling, Alaska.

The sun sets over an isolated lake near our cabin in Alaska. This picture was taken just before midnight in The Last Frontier.

Daylight gives way to dusk after the sun disappeared below the horizon on one of Alaska’s three million lakes.

A Pacific loon turned to check me out with one of its red eyes as I approached in my kayak.

Loons drift together as they sleep in the middle of the night.

The setting sun casts a glow over a lonely lake and Pacific loon near Sterling, Alaska.

The sun sets over an isolated lake near our cabin in Alaska. This picture was taken just before midnight in The Last Frontier.

Daylight gives way to dusk after the sun disappeared below the horizon on one of Alaska’s three million lakes.

A Pacific loon turned to check me out with one of its red eyes as I approached in my kayak.

Loons drift together as they sleep in the middle of the night.

Daylight was beginning to fade when I arrived back at the secluded location and I decided to join my family in the rustic cabin. I walked across the raised boardwalk to the cabin door and paused to take one last look at the colors of the darkening sky. Absolute silence enveloped me and I decided to spend a few more minutes enjoying the Alaskan wilderness before retiring for the night.

A few clouds lingered in the heavens with no wind to move them along. The clouds glowed with changing hues as the sun began to set. They looked as if a great artist had painstakingly created them with a palette of oil paint. I marveled at the masterpiece hanging above me and stepped off of the boardwalk and into the woods.  

The lure of the wild lake that lay just beyond the trees had an effect on me and I felt pulled in that direction. I knew that the reflection of the sky on the surface of the lake would be worth the trip, and I wandered deeper into the forest. 

The dwindling light from the setting sun was almost completely blocked out by the black spruce trees that rose straight up around me. The dark spires became more narrow at the top like giant paint brushes reaching toward the canvas above them.

I struggled to pick my way through the woods in the darkness as the undergrowth became thicker and thicker. Just as I was about to give up my quest, the stillness was shattered by an unnerving shriek. The piercing sound seemed to be coming from all directions as it echoed off of the trees and I froze in my tracks. Shortly after the first sound, three more abrupt bursts of high-pitched squeals rang out. They were coming from the direction of the lake.

Again and again, the high-pitched screeching ripped at the fabric of the otherwise peaceful night. I decided that my trip down to the lake would be much quicker if I returned to the raised walkway that led from the cabin down to the edge of the water. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins as I emerged from the trees and stepped onto the wooden planks near the cabin.

I began walking down the timber path toward the lake. An animal rustling in high grasses and berries off to the right caught my attention. In my adrenaline-heightened state, I became very aware that I did not have any bear spray with me. 

The boardwalk was about six feet off the ground at this point, but I still had no desire to come across a brown bear. Every step seemed to shake the entire walkway so I slowed down considerably and proceeded with caution. Just before I reached the spot where the berry bushes were shaking, a large black dog leaped into the open and rambled off in the opposite direction. 

A sense of relief and disappointment washed over me and I continued toward the lake. In a matter of seconds, I could see the still water through a sparse growth of black spruce. The sun was still hanging just over the threshold of the horizon and the complete silence had returned.

The surface of the small lake was as smooth as glass. The water served as a mirror for the sky and I just stood there basking in the peace and loneliness of the moment. I was mesmerized by the scene before me.

A trembling throaty call emanated from the other end of the reservoir. I scanned the water for the source and saw four dark figures gliding across the lake. One bird was leading the group followed by the other three who had formed a wedge several feet behind the leader. 

The call was almost guttural, but did not break the tranquility of the moment. Then the leader let out the same shrill shriek I had heard earlier and disappeared beneath the surface of the water. The others followed in succession. Three ear-splitting howls filled the night air and they launched themselves into the depths of the lake.

About a minute passed before the leader resurfaced followed by his trio of accompanists. He was now just a few feet away from me. He slowly turned toward me as his red eyes connected with mine. I was face-to-face with a stunningly beautiful Pacific loon. 

The Pacific loon is very common along the coast of the Pacific Ocean and the arctic tundra where it breeds. The striking bird can be seen in other parts of the world but is not nearly as common. Regularly seen in the Pacific Northwest the Pacific loon can primarily be found in northern Canada and eastern Siberia during the breeding season. It is not unusual for the Pacific loon to be in Alaska, but I had never encountered one on the Kenai Peninsula. 

The Pacific loon is considerably smaller than the common loon and grows to approximately 25” long with a wingspan that can reach more than 36”. The Pacific loon is thicker and more powerfully built than the red-throated loon. It is easily identified by the unique details in the patterns on its head and neck. 

Pacific loons are agile in the air and water, but struggle to walk on land because of how far back their legs sit on their body. They can reach speeds of 75 miles per hour during migration and have been known to fly more than 670 miles in a single day. Loons are deft swimmers as well and are capable of reaching speeds in excess of 20 miles per hour in the water. 

The quartet glided around in front of me for a while and it became apparent that I was looking at young parents teaching their chicks how to fend for themselves. Pacific loons often dive to catch the small fish that make up the bulk of their diet and have perfected their diving technique. They expel air out of their lungs violently and pull their feathers in tight to force out any air caught in their plumage. This allows them to dive quickly and swim faster underwater. The loon also has the ability to slow its heart rate once under the surface to conserve oxygen.

Pacific loons mate for life and raise their chicks together. Male and female Pacific loons select their nesting site together and often lay claim to an entire lake as their territory. They usually nest along the shoreline of tundra lakes or the taiga habitat of northern regions. The nest consists of mud and dead plants. The pair will work together to fashion an oval nest when building on land along the shoreline. This process takes less than a few hours unless the happy couple decides to build in the water. It can take up to two days for the loons to build a suitable platform that rises out of the water.

There are usually one or two eggs per clutch and the Pacific loon only raises one brood per year. The happy couple shares the responsibilities of incubating the eggs and feeding the younglings once they hatch. Chicks will leave the nest with their parents shortly after they are born and the dedicated parents feed their young every hour until they are around three months old. Loons are very protective of their young and will defend their nesting area with vocal and visual displays. 

I crouched down to conceal myself among the vegetation growing around the lake and watched. The quartet raised quite a ruckus as they repeatedly shrieked before diving. This went on for another hour until the young family eventually drifted off and went to sleep. 

The loons floated aimlessly with their heads tucked onto their backs as a misty fog began to rise above the water. A sense of tranquility washed over me as utter silence returned and left me feeling isolated but at one with nature. 

I gazed in wonder at the beauty of the moment. The loneliness of the wild lake was indeed lovely.

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