
As we paddled across Knife Lake Amy pointed out that the loons floating next to us were likely the same loons we said goodbye to in late November when the last stragglers left on their long migration to the Gulf of Mexico as Knife Lake began to freeze. These hauntingly beautiful birds flew down the Mississippi River to the Gulf of Mexico, spent the winter as sea birds, waiting to return to Knife Lake with the intent of raising another generation who will continue this ancient migration.
All the while we have been here in the Wilderness, moving from lake to lake, pitching our tent, cooking a meal, gathering water, and repeating our own primal cycle.
Knife Lake has remained largely unchanged for hundreds of generations of loons. What a stark contrast this place must be to the roads and refineries, cities and factories, farm fields, locks and dams, lights, and noise that awaits them outside the Wilderness, a gauntlet of “progress” they must navigate.
People have started asking us what we will do when we return to the “real world” perhaps society has it wrong. We just have to get outside, immerse ourselves in nature, and be reminded of what real is.
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