Category Archives: Long Lake creatures

Mallard brood

by
Reply

mallards_females_lowres

This is a mother mallard and her brood in Ghost Bay. Anas platyrhynchos. Out of the water, the hen’s speculum is very clear. It’s that band of metallic blue wing color, edged with a bit of white. Well, the blue is clear anyway.

The mallard hen builds a nest near tallish wetland plants or under a shrub. Actually, mallards are quite adaptable and in cities they may even nest in a flower planter. The hen scrapes around a bit, lays her eggs, and then puts grass, reeds, and leaves around her to make a rim for the nest. It will be lined with soft down feathers. The clutch of between 9 to 13 eggs will take around 30 days to incubate.

The male mallard’s role in all this is pretty minimal. Only the hen sits on the nest. Only the hen looks after the ducklings. The male drake heads off to join a flock and sort of just hangs out and molts. Before the fall migration, his bright courting feathers will be replaced with dull brown feathers–his eclipse plumage.

The ducklings are out of the nest and into the water within one day of hatching. They won’t be able to fly for about two months and they will stick close to their mother until then. In the early days they are so small that big fish or snapping turtles will find them a tasty morsel. On our lake they might also be lunch for a Bald Eagle.

By mid-July, the ducklings have grown so much that it’s not easy to distinguish them from their mother. I think that’s mom bringing up the rear. By about 10 weeks, the young ones will leave the family group to join a flock.

mallards_females2_lowres

Beaverpalooza in Ghost Bay

by
2

beavertail_lowresThe big lodge in Ghost Bay is home to a bunch of hyperactive beavers. Really. There have been mornings this summer when they just won’t leave us alone. Or so it seems. They must have not gotten the message that they are supposed to be crepuscular critters–active at dawn and dusk. Because we’ve not been there quite so early, or late, but sometimes as many as three beavers have been circling Ghost Bay at the same time.

They don’t seem to be eating anything. No new birch trees have bit the dust. On only one occasion did we see the beavers obviously interacting. Two swam toward each other, seemed to touch noses, and then dove away.

But my my, what a bunch of alarm slaps we’ve been treated to. If you look closely you can make out the beaver’s nose, his right ear, and his tail.

beaversplash_lowresWhen critters signal that our presence is alarming, we keep our distance. But these guys can be on the other side of Ghost Bay from our kayaks, when we aren’t even near the lodge or near them, and they will send out the alarm. We are not alarming folks. Ghost Bay is where we quietly paddle in, drink our morning coffee, and drink in the natural drama that unfolds.

Tons of fish swim by. A few bluegills will be on their nests. We see pike–but only rarely. Lots of large and small-mouth bass. More perch than in the past. Rockbass. There are some small fry that I’ve taken to calling happy fish because they flip on the surface. We think they are munching water skimmers. As for the skimmers, sometimes it’s like we are herding them. As we move in the bay they seem to group in front of our kayaks. Dragonflies are abundant this year too.

This weekend while three beavers were swimming around and delivering a series of tail-slap alarm calls, we also watched a blue heron hunting. And there was a good-sized doe who continued to drink at the water’s edge even though she noticed us and eyed us warily. I guess when a body’s thirsty, a body needs to drink.

So, beaver, we are not worth your alarm.

beaverslap_lowres

We are going to continue to quietly float around. And if it turns out that we also get to witness your antics–all the better!

beaverswim_lowres

Close encounter

by
2

gb_loon_lowres

This pair of loons doesn’t seem to be nesting. They were in Ghost Bay with us for a good long while last weekend. They showed a lot of interest in the kayaks and approached us, rather than the other way around.These are two individuals.

loonlooking_lowresUp very close and personal.

Steve has a special lens that captures a lot of detail even at a distance. But this pair was within 15 feet of the kayaks much of the time. This view shows off one of the loon’s characteristics that make them so good at catching fish: their binocular vision.

We watched this pair fishing in Ghost Bay. We watched them swim by in shallow water several times. Talk about streamlined! And they are amazingly fast and powerful swimmers.

Sue had one of them dive near her and swim under her paddleboard!

loon_paddleboard_lowres

Monstrous Pike

by
Reply

jeff_pike_lowresI know. My “Jeff and His Giant Pike” stories are maybe starting to rub salt in your wounds. For those of us who can’t catch anything, including me, we are envious but trying to pretend we’re not. First it’s Jeff’s 38 inch Pike in October of 2013. Then it’s his 33 inch Pike last September. But now? Now it’s a Pike too large to measure by anything we had handy. It’s way bigger than the 36 inch yardstick Jeff had in his boat. Steve, who did not catch this fish (so he can be trusted), says this Pike was 42 inches long.

Lordy. 42 inches.

Jeff, like Jimmy John Shark is a catch-and-release Pike fisherman, so I started wondering if this could be the same fish he caught before. Jeff’s 2013 monster catch is photographed, below. I tried to find out how fast Pike grow. I didn’t get far with that. My question was whether one could grow 4 inches in about a year and a half. The result of my research suggests a nothing-definitive maybe-yes. Four inches longer. Clearly heavier, with a greater circumference. The same lovely burnt-orange fins. But I’ve decided this is not the same fish. The patterning looks subtly different.

I was probably just hoping there’s only one fish this monstrously sized in Long Lake because I don’t like the thought of this fish, and those sharp teeth, watching kids floating around in their tubes and my toes dangling off the dock.

jeff_pike_lowres-530x365

One thing? We can now call Jeff “Master Angler Jeff.”  According to the DNR, a Pike achieves “Master Angler” status when it reaches 40 inches (or 18 pounds). That also usually means it’s female and more than 10 years old.

Branta Canadensis

by
Reply

goose_family_lowres

Canada Geese. We are up to our eyeballs in Canada Geese. This is the largest of what seem to be 4 broods on the lake. Judging from the droppings on my lawn, we’re in for a rough summer. I do not welcome their chin-strapped selves.

The good news? Our neighbor’s son will be visiting from Colorado soon. He’ll be staying at the lake for an extended period. He has two children and two Labrador Retrievers. We’ve given the pups free rein on our property. Hallelujah!