Needing a break from flood clean-up, I went to town for the evening. I returned in the dark. The wind, which had been blowing none stop for days out of the north, had finally stopped. The water was becalmed.  In the stillness, I could distinctly hear the falling creek on the other side of the river.  Then, the air was filled with a haunting call.  Sounded like a loon–that plaintive tone. I thought, could it really be a loon?  Loons on the Hudson River are not unheard of, just infrequent. Shortly, I heard the call again. By the third time, I was convinced it was a loon.