A new family at Lost Lake

It’s early spring. Tendrils of mist dance like sprites on the water. The lake’s surface is smooth like polished silver. Several ducks skim silently like shadows in the fog. This is Lost Lake, a relic of the glaciers, which covered much of Wisconsin until 10,000 years ago. Lost Lake is nestled in prairie and woodland just west of Holy Wisdom Monastery.

You hike along the trail, which meanders around the lake. To your right oak trees rise like pillars, leaves rustling in the spring breeze. On your left emergent vegetation creates a verdant foreground to the lake. You squint as the brilliant morning sun consumes the mist opening a cloudless azure sky. Bird song and insect buzz envelope you, producing a spring reverie.

Then a bizarre sound scatters your dreamlike state.

Cow-cow-cow-cow-cow-cowp

You pause.

With binoculars in hand, you scan the lake to no avail. You resume your hike, tucking the sound away in your memory.

You return to Lost Lake a few weeks later. It doesn’t take long to hear it the call.

Cow-cow-cow-cow-cowp

Once more, you scrutinize the lake with your binoculars. Several Mallards paddle lazily on the sun sparkled water. Swallows swoop and slide, acrobats hunting insect meals. But source of the sound remains elusive. Then as you’re about to turn away something catches the corner of your eye and pulls you back.

A tiny brown bird pops to the surface of the lake, appearing from nowhere. You note she’s smaller than the nearby mallards. Before you can study her more, she vanishes with a graceful dive. You wait. A minute later she resurfaces in a different spot. She glides across the water, slicing the glassy surface like a knife and drawing closer as if to give you a better view. She’s a Pied-billed Grebe.

Pied-billed Grebes are compact birds. A thick body, slender neck and large head make them appear comical. But their anatomy has a purpose. They’re built for water. Grebes’ Latin genus, podylimbus (Podilymbus podiceps), means “feet at the buttocks.” True to their name, their legs emerge near their rumps enabling them to swim like submarines but rendering them awkward on land.

Many waterfowl species that visit Lost Lake are transitory. Yes, Mallards stay all summer, and Wood Ducks hang around, too. But Buffleheads, Teals, Goldeneyes are all short timers. Like summer’s bookends, they appear in spring and fall for a brief rest stop on their migration.

Pied-billed Grebes have made cameos at Lost Lake, too. But they haven’t lingered long. But this year is different.

A small splash disturbs the placid water as the grebe dives again. In seconds the water is calm. You hear a call.

Kee-kee-keee-kee-kee

This call is grebe-like but higher pitched and whiny. Your curiosity is piqued so you search the vegetation on far side of the lake. In one spot the reeds stir then part like curtains. Something emerges. It’s like your grebe, but smaller. Then you realize. It’s a juvenile Pied-billed Grebe!  In short order the parent appears, and they start to swim together.

The parent dives again, disappearing for a few minutes while the youngster waits at the surface. She emerges with a shiny fish. The youngster takes the fish, struggles with it, then gulps it whole.

So, what’s different this time around? This season marks the first time Pied-billed Grebes have bred and raised young at Lost Lake. The family arrived early last spring and can still be found at Lost Lake.

Newly hatched grebes leave the nest quickly but stay close for the first few days. Then they begin to hitch rides on their parents’ backs. The young grebe at Lost Lake is older now and swims on his own but follows close behind his parent.

Soon winter will creep in. The green oaks will transform into twisted skeletons silhouetted against foreboding skies. The grebes will be long gone.  So be sure to visit Lost Lake this fall and look for small birds gliding on the water, diving for food and uttering their grebe calls. They can be hard to see, so follow their calls to find them before they’re gone for the winter.