It was summer in 1968 in a small quiet village of Tununak. The sun was just getting ready to rise from behind Tunuak mountain on the north side. Birds both from the land and sea could be heard. No airport, no phones, no planes, boats, cars or oil stoves.
One could smell the early moring sea air and a gentle cool breeze. Soothing sounds of waves sliding southward alongside the Tununak coast from the Bering Sea on the west side. Then to put an exclamation point to all this beauty would be the loon's voice in the distance. All the sounds of beauty all with no human sound at all.
In the wilderness of Alaska, on a calm day, one could hear in a distance a lonely haunting call of the loon. As if the loon was speaking to you. A sense of calling that wakes the spirit, a short of reflection to remind your place in this world.
Once there were two young hunters in Newtok, Alaska, who came upon several loons in a lake dancing together. They crawled upon the lake behind the grass and saw two loons dancing together while the others were dancing in a circle around the other two in the center. It reminded them of a marriage procession taking place.
