Our Loon Cam 2 pair has so far had an uneventful incubation process. These two loons just don’t seem to present the non-stop drama of the Loon Cam 1 pair. But that’s good for us; we don’t need the stress of anxiety. And it’s good for the loons; they can concentrate on taking care of the eggs.

Now that the eggs are barely more than a week away from hatching, let’s see if we can nail down the hatch times. We only have two years of to-the-minute data that we can use but they are in close agreement. If the loons hold true to form, we should be able to accurately predict hatch times within a few hours. Incubation periods for egg 1 average 27 days and 13.5 hours. That would put this year’s first egg hatch at 5:30 AM on Thursday, July 9. Egg 2 is a little tougher to predict because only one egg hatched and the timing suggested it was egg 1. So, going by the one known incubation period for egg 2, we would expect the second egg to hatch around midnight (12:00 AM, July 10).

Taken together, these two loon pairs have a very similar and consistent egg-laying-incubation-hatch record. The two eggs are laid about 60 hours apart, on average. Incubation is very sporadic until the second egg is laid. The time from laying to hatch is about 27.5 days +/-10 hours for the first egg and a little over 25.5 days for the second egg. The result is that the eggs hatch about 1 day apart. Because this year the first egg was laid late in the day (June 11) and the second was laid early in the day (June 14), there’s a slight chance they will both hatch on July 9, one predawn and one well after dark.

Now that the Loon Cam 2 pair is almost half-way through its incubation period, it’s time to clear up some confusion about the history of the pair and reading the bands on the loons’ legs.

In 2016, intruding loons interfered on this territory enough to cause a nest failure. Without a nest or chicks to defend, the bond deteriorated between the pair, which had been together on the territory since 2013. The rest of the 2016 season was chaos with no clear resident pair.

In 2017, the current male and female emerged as the new resident pair and immediately began nesting. They successfully hatched and raised a chick, which suggests that both of these loons probably had previous nesting experience on other territories. We know that the male did because he was banded in 2006 on a nearby territory on the same lake. We banded the female this same year (2017), so we don’t know her previous history.

Both loons have two bands on each leg.
Female left: A white stripe band (white band with a dark stripe through the middle) over a blue band
Female right: A silver band (the aluminum USFWS band with a unique number) over a yellow stripe band (yellow band with dark stripe in middle)
Male left: A red band over a white band
Male right: A silver (aluminum) band over a red dot band (a red band with a white dot in the middle)

And by one band being over the other, it means it’s the closer one to the location the leg is attached to the body. It’s easy for people to mess that up when the loon is sitting on the nest. Closer to its rear end might be a better way of putting it. The standard practice is to put the silver band on the right leg when the loon is banded as an adult and on the left leg when the loon is banded in its hatch year.

This territory has been monitored since the mid 1980s. The nest site was originally on an island but new development in the 70s and 80s caused a deterioration of the nesting habitat that resulted in increased terrestrial egg predation. The raft was added in 1992. Since then, the average annual chicks surviving rate has been 0.643, which is higher than the statewide average. This pair has fledged 2 surviving chicks in the three years it has been on territory (0.667).

During the Loon Cam 1 chaos of the intruding loons on the evening of June 15, the parents decided it would be safer if they each guarded one chick. Mom took the elder chick around the bend and started fishing according to reports we received, while Dad and the 12 hour old chick remained near the nest, in camera range. While Mom was trying to feed the older sibling, she suddenly dove and disappeared. Most likely she sensed the intruders and went off to do battle, or at least distract them from the chick. The chick gravitated toward a nearby double seat kayak. Much to the occupants’ surprise, it appeared that the chick had decided they were a new-found parent. Fortunately, they were aware of the loon cam and the precarious situation the loons were in. With mom out of sight, the kayakers decided it was best to paddle over to the nest site. The chick went with them, practically glued to the kayak.

All this time another lake resident was reporting the activity on the YouTube chat, so it wasn’t a total surprise when the kayakers came into view on the camera. The little chick saw Dad and sibling and made a beeline for them. The kayakers smiled. What more can I say? The photos are courtesy of our Kayak Heroes.

So was it imprinting? Was the chick still ready to accept more beings into its trust even after imprinting on two parents? That would be what conventional wisdom would dictate and I think that’s the best bet. The only reason I have any question is because I’ve spent enough time observing loon behavior to realize that (1) loons can recognize individual people (and judge their character), (2) loons can signal to chicks to stay and wait by a certain area while the adult takes care of important business, and (3) loons will temporarily turn the care of their chicks over to a trusted person. I’ve personally witnessed it and LPC has video documentation of another example.

Unfortunately for me, I’ve only made myself an enemy to loons, at least in their judgment. Chase a loon around a lake at midnight while shining a bright spotlight in its eyes, and then drag it into a boat and hold it down while it gets banded, and you’ll be branded an enemy for life. The worst tongue lashing I ever got came from the Lincoln Island female when I went back the next day to do a welfare check.

LPC does not recommend that you paddle up to a loon and introduce yourself or invite it to dinner. That will be counterproductive; loons don’t like pushy people. But if you spend a lot of time on one lake with loons, keeping your distance and enjoying the sight, a loon might pop up right beside you. That’s your chance to show that you’re no threat. Chill and enjoy the amazing treat. Let the loon decide when the visit is over. Always leave it up to the loon.

This morning the YouTube chatters were discussing humidity and air pressure and how they might affect a loon’s take-off length. It’s true that humidity affects air pressure and air pressure is one factor in determining the speed needed for a loon to get airborne, but there are other factors with greater influence. And while we’re waiting for the first pip sighting on the nest, this could be a good time to talk about the distance a loon needs to take off from the water.
First, the basics. Loons are designed to dive and swim underwater. Everything else is secondary. Thus, they are denser than other birds so they don’t bob back up to the surface as soon as they dive. Also, their wing surface area to weight ratio is much less than most birds, which makes the loon more streamlined and faster swimmers when the wings are folded. They’re heavy birds with small wings; they need to be going quite fast to get airborne. So, instead of acting like a VTOL (vertical take off and landing) aircraft, they’re more like a B-52: a long distance running and building up speed on the surface and then a very flat climb attitude.
If you peruse the web you’ll find a wide range of estimated distances a loon needs to take off. My recent search produced results ranging from “30 yards” to “a quarter mile”. Both are preposterous. The 30 yards was probably a typo; they left out a zero from a maximum estimate. The quarter mile (which would be 1320 feet) was sloppy research. It’s true that a loon lake will usually be at least a quarter mile long (there are exceptions), but that’s not the take off distance. Once a loon gets airborne it’s literally not out of the woods yet. It still has to clear the trees and any other obstacles on the shore. That’s where the quarter mile distance comes into play.
Based on the literature and personal observation, a loon take off run will usually be anywhere between 200 and 600 feet. Following are three factors that most heavily weigh on the distance.
Wind Speed. Just like airplane pilots, loons prefer to take off into the wind. If a loon has a ten to fifteen mph headwind, they’re starting off at a big advantage. Remember: it’s air speed that counts; not ground speed.
Fitness. Not all loons are equal. Some are stronger, some are weaker. And disease and injury can come into play.
Determination (motivation). How fast does the loon want to get off the lake? If it’s just taking a joy ride to check out another area there’s no real need to put the pedal to the metal. On the other hand, if it’s being chased by a larger, angry loon, you can bet the take off distance will be much shorter than normal. This factor first became apparent to me while doing loon rescue work. A not uncommon rescue LPC does is retrieving loons that land on tiny ponds. They seem to love golf course water traps (so aptly named) and large puddles in gravel pits. Don’t ask me why. What we’ve found is that if there is a straight shot of at least 200 feet, it’s worth waiting for the loon to make a move. Sooner or later (2 or 3 days) it gets desperate enough to give it the old college try and they usually make it on their own. It saves LPC a lot of time and effort and it spares the loon the psychological trauma of being chased by a couple of sweaty field biologists. It’s a WIN-WIN.

The pip was first seen at 4:09 pm. If all goes well, there should be a chick in the nest by daylight, tomorrow morning.

Seriously. There are city loons and country loons. I suppose we could even say there are suburbanite loons. If there is a waterbody big enough to land and take off on, has clear water, can provide enough fish and has a good nest site, then a loon pair is likely to show up sooner or later. Loons can adapt to different neighborhood environments and have been known to be just as comfortable in the channel at the Weirs on Winnipesaukee as on Mountain Pond in Chatham.
But loons generally prefer the same lakes people prefer: clear water and preferably nice scenery consisting of bays and coves and islands. And I might add, big enough to have a motorboat. In other words, a multiple loon territory lake. Loons seem to love the company of their own species even though they are constantly squabbling with each other. Sound like any other species you know?
The Loon Cam #2 pair are city loons. They can’t swim outside their territory without entering the territory of one of two neighboring pairs. And then you have the local hooligans roaming around, looking for trouble. That’s what happened to the LoonCam’s neighbors a few days ago: a knock-down, drag-out fight between the nesting pair and a rogue who wanted to take over. The result was one broken egg and then total abandonment of the nest. It remains to be seen who won the battle or if it is even over.
This can be a concern to our Loon Cam pair. On multiple territory lakes, a disruption on one territory can have a domino effect that ripples across the lake. In each altercation, there is going to be a loser. That loser can then be a threat to other pairs. Our current Loon Cam male is a perfect example. He was first banded in 2006, on a territory “two doors down”, so to speak. He remained there until at least 2015, and first showed up on this territory in 2017. So he has already been the loser in one battle and the victor in another.
So the pair will need to remain vigilant for the rest of the season, and do their best to fight off any intruders. That’s the typical city life. The most fit loons get the opportunity to breed.