The silent hurricane

The silent hurricane Neutral light and a faint breeze enveloped the restless birds of the lake. The morning was drawing to an end and the sun was high in the sky announcing the end of the awakening. The Common Loon was careful to slide each feather between its slender beak to remove the slightest bit of dirt. The meticulous work of this bird to maintain its immaculate plumage is a silent dance. He capsizes on himself and dresses himself in thousands of water pearls that dare not slip inside his waterproof dress. Attentive, I recognize each step of his routine so as not to miss his grand finale. Curved all the way down on his back, the top of his head leaning between his wings, I feel that he will soon start to move on. Following a stop, his stability found, he stretches forward slowly spreading his wings at the water's edge. With a sustained effort, he struggles underwater and his whole body emerges out of the water synchronizing a few powerful wing strokes. The air is sprinkled with the mist of its quiet hurricane. I offer him a silent standing ovation and he sets off again, sailing like a small boat carried by the wind.