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T.H BE A U“D:U BO INT BUS 
Loons Cry at Itasca 
By ANNE DOUGLAS BAYLESS 
My HUSBAND, John, Mrs. Amy Baldwin, and I nearly jumped out of the 
ear the night of last July 18. It was nearly 10 p.m. our time, but it was 
not yet quite dark, and we were turning into Itasca State Park, Minn., 
after a grueling one-day drive from Chicago. 
From the thick evergreen forest along the road into the park, we heard 
the lovely song of a veery, welcoming us. It was the first time John and I 
had ever heard those beautiful notes, except on a record. The veery immedi- 
ately became our favorite thrush, and we knew our trip was going to 
be a success. 
With three days at our disposal, we had dashed to Minnesota to go on 
an Audubon Wildlife Tour of the park, the second year they were offered. 
They will be conducted again this year, starting around June 20, when the 
birds are nesting, and continuing through August. The tours will be all-day 
affairs and will take in more than we were able to see in the half-day trip 
of last year, according to present plans. 
Itasca is an ideal setting for the tours, containing 32,000 acres and close 
to 1,000 lakes, large and small. It is situated in the northern half of 
Minnesota, 225 miles northwest of Minneapolis-St. Paul. One of its points 
of interest is the source of the Mississippi river, a mere trickle there that 
can be and is jumped over by most visitors. 
Our trip there, requiring a 6:30 a.m. start, enabled us to build up a 
sizable bird lst on the way. One happening of note was the sight of our 
first and only cardinal of the entire trip, after we were well north of St. 
Paul. We were told later that cardinals only recently have moved north 
of the Twin Cities, in extending their northward range, and that none has 
been seen in Itasca Park. We hadn’t realized a cardinal was a find. 
Once in the park, we checked into the hotel, Douglas Lodge, and were 
greeted by squeaking little brown bats chasing insects. We then walked 
down to the shore of Lake Itasca, the largest in the park and only a stone’s 
throw away from the hotel. Right away we heard two barred owls hooting 
at each other! We tried to stay awake that night and listen for more, 
but were too sleepy. 
We got up soon after dawn next day, but Mrs. Baldwin had preceded us 
and already found chickadees and warblers in the tall white pines around 
the lodge. Martins were skimming in and out of their house nearby. We 
went down to the lake again. It was covered with a chill, early morning 
mist, and we could see only a few feet as we stood on the dock. Then, out 
of the mist, came the cry of a loon, and another, and another. We clutched 
each other and held our breaths for a repeat performance, but in vain. 
The loons apparently were waking for the day and did not feel like crying 
in the sunshine, for though we saw many that day, we heard no more. 
As the sun cleared away the mists we found the smaller trees bordering 
the lake full of movement, and identified Blackburnian, myrtle, black 
throated green, Tennessee, pine, and palm warblers, yellowthroats, pewees, 
