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Dawn, Massabesic

by P Stohrer

Imagine water so clear that you can gaze beneath the surface to follow the last few snapping turtles as they race away from your boat. Imagine a surface so smooth that when Canada Geese gossip in an overhead vee, heading south, you have no need to raise your head, their path is reflected perfectly in the water. Imagine leaf colors so vibrant it's as if neon highlighters had painted-by-numbers all around you. And imagine a day so quiet that every note the mystery flutist blows can be clearly heard for miles across the lake.

Imagine how lucky you are to have chosen this moment to paddle. To see a loon parent and an usual two juveniles fishing in a deserted cove. To drift so quietly that you see with your naked eye the dolphin-like faces of juvenile feathers, slowly changing from gray to black, and to gaze in wonder as they dive and swim right under your kayak. Who else has seen so closely how a parent passes a minnow from her beak to her child's? When again will you see such silliness as the juveniles splashing through a game of water tag? Watch the mother struggle with a plump, end-of-season pumpkinseed, stabbing again and again at the dorsal fin, until it breaks away and she shudders to swallow the carcas whole. Laugh as the youngsters protest futilely -none for me? none for me?

Imagine a light rain beginning to fall. Patterns of concentric circles break on the surface all around you. Were it not for the delicate gurgle of your paddle tether, you'd suspect you were gliding in another world, so hushed and isolated. Feel blessed to be a paddler.


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