Times Are Tough... and Life Is Loony
Story and photos by Ellen Kalish
Just last week, I received four calls for Loons that were blown off course - stranded, unable to walk or fly on land. 
In eight years of wildlife rehabilitation I have never seen this happen.
The first call was from a person who worked at Family Court of Kingston who said there was a bird in the parking lot that had a broken wing and couldn’t fly. Upon arrival, it was a Red-throated Loon lying on the pavement, not a likely place for a Loon to have landed however, considering the 2-day rain and ice storm it started to make sense.
After a full examination and some hydration therapy in my bathtub… along with a few fish for refueling, he/she was ready to go to the Hudson River. I have a friend, Ron Sleight who has offered his riverside home for all Loon releases.
Within the next 2 hours I received three more calls from the High Falls area and found myself again, driving to the river with three bouncing crates in the back of my car.
These birds breed in the Arctic, Canada and Eurasia, will then migrate south to the Great Lakes, New Jersey and the Delaware region, stopping when they’ve found open water to feed. I believe the poor visibility as a result from the storm was what confused the Loons causing them to land in small puddles. One of the birds suffered some minor cuts and scrapes and was treated by Hurley Veterinary Hospital.
This species is almost completely water bound; it nests inland in bogs, wetlands and ponds and will forage far from the breading grounds returning from the sea or nearby lakes to feed their young. Their nests consist of floating plant matter and lay up to two eggs. They are monogamous and can live up to 20 years. Loons are sensitive to oil spills and contaminated water sources so it’s comforting to know they are still willing to winter in the Hudson Valley.
Loons are built like penguins with legs at the back of their bodies and literally scoot on their bellies to get across short pieces of land. Their feet cannot support the weight of their torsos, so on dry ground they appear to have broken wings and/or legs.
After arriving at the release site, I lined them up, opened the cage doors and stood back to photograph their “escape”. One by one they swam off into the river. Once in the water, they gathered together calling to each other with that willowy melody only shared by Loons.
Then they proceeded to dip, splash and flap almost seeming like they had to wash away their human encounter.
I left when they finally became tiny specks in the landscape; I blinked my eyes to refocus until I couldn’t see them anymore. Then I cried.
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