I woke up to a familiar sound this morning, though it took me a while to place it.

I was just waking up, of course, and I'm not too keen without coffee. Too, it had been a long time -- far too long -- since I'd heard the call of a loon. There it was, though, and loud... that two-note hoot, that starts low for a quarter note, goes up high for a half and then back down. The loon was hooting across the waters of Lake Contoocook in Jaffrey, where I spent the weekend with family.

After hooting good morning several times, the loon went into its more familiar manic cackle, a call which John McPhee wrote would, if human, be the laughter of the profoundly insane. (I was hoping to cite the exact quotation, but I can't find the book, The Survival of the Birch Bark Canoe, despite having purchased about half a dozen copies in my life time).

Loons once were common on Contoocook, but they've been more scarce of late. It was good to hear them back.