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.