Arctic Tern

Gliding over gusts, wheeling and sailing, Arctic Terns seem to never stop moving. At once delicate and enduring, their existence seems improbable. You might think for a 15 inch bird to log 24,000 miles each year, the unflappable traveler would be unable to pause. But between migrations from breeding grounds in the northern hemisphere to wintering sites around Antarctica and back again, the terns do manage to touch down.

One place the terns rest and perhaps breed is Tern Lake, two miles from the Dollhouse. Here they are more often than not seen hunting, though rarely by the fish. Waiting, parked in flight, the terns use the thrust of wing-beats against a headwind to hover, fixing a target before plunging into the water to nab their dinner.

Fed, bred and rested, the terns move on. Most are gone by now. A few still flit above Tern Lake, continuing their endless circles, filling themselves for the journey south. I will miss watching them log the miles that nobody counts.