The Common Loon, or is it the Great Northern Diver?

One of my favorite birds is the Great Northern Diver, or as it is called in America, the Common Loon. Both names of this species are quite informative.

As Great Northern Diver suggests, it is a big bird that is found in the north, and it dives for food. This name has a mythical quality to me; a big bruiser of colder climes in the north that dives for live stuff under the water. You wouldn’t want to meet this beast, would you?

The Common Loon, on the other hand, is a fairly common bird breeding on large lakes in the northern United States and throughout Canada; it winters just about anywhere in North America where there is open water. While the term “common” is accurate, who wants to be common? The word “loon,” on the other hand, creates a mythical image for me. It has the most gorgeous, bugled, mellow call that carries for miles across quiet lakes shrouded in mist or fog. It is beautiful but eerie and charismatic, a feature in many a Hollywood movie. I always think of the name as coming from this sound. However, the general consensus is that “loon” comes from lumme or lum (Scandinavian), the origin of lummox. Loons only look awkward when they walk on land, which is almost never; just the few steps it takes to get to their nest. Imagine if your legs and feet were at the back of your body and designed to propel you deep under the water like a submarine: how would you walk? Why name a bird after something that they almost never do?

Being English, I am biased because of being brought up with Great Northern Diver as its name. Are you Americans partial to Common Loon? Which name would you vote for if names were standardized around the world, as they hopefully will be one day?

Common Loons are quite a common wintering species from October till May, and found out on the ocean and in bays, occasionally on lakes. They are loners, but there may be two or three in the vicinity where there is plenty to trough on. They eat all the things that you can buy at The Lobster House raw bar. We most often see them struggling with a crab. Why? Because it takes them a while to sort out how to eat them—just like it does us!

They will often pop up on the beach or a jetty; fishermen usually know them well. After carefully peering around, they quietly submerge without fuss and no splash. They disappear for what seems like an eternity, only to suddenly appear 40 yards (and too far) away for a photograph. They don’t stay up long unless they are preoccupied and struggling with that crab!

Far sturdier than a cormorant, with a thick neck and big head, they often have a bulging forehead. The bill is sturdy and dagger-like. In winter the bird is brown above and pale below. In the spring, they start to grow in (molt) new feathers to replace these duller ones. When the molt is complete, they are so beautiful, with a black-looking head that is iridescent emerald on close inspection. Its back is checkerboard black and white morphing to white-spotted black flanks. They would fit in perfectly at any bow-tie shindig. 

Common Loons often fly over land, particularly on migration in both spring and fall. Sometimes they will give that beautiful, fluty call in flight, particularly in spring when their hormones are raging. It carries a long way. Sadly, they are going further north to breed on large, forested lakes in places such as Maine and Canada.

Great Northern Diver or Common Loon, they are great birds that give us the honor of their presence much of the year.