A good deal of what we see and ultimately come to love about the outdoors happens in those places with which we are most familiar. We pick up on the call of birds in the trees around a favorite flow or note the rise of certain fish on a calm summer morning at the lakes we visit to angle during the warm water season. Even in winter, I’m able to track the movement of small mammals, deer and other species through our neighborhood at the edge of the developed world on the prairie.

Through these encounters with pheasants, skunks, cottontails and robins, the routine sightings make nature a welcome part of our every day experience, and the ones that are a bit different stand out and make a person take notice. That happened two years ago, as I was sitting on the deck at the lake, watching the world wake up before the pontoons came cruising by and the wakeboarders began their circular spin out from our section of sandy beach. Along with the mallards and Canada geese came an unidentified bird with about 20 young in tow that required me to head to an online field guide to determine that it was my first sighting of a common merganser and her crèche of babies along the shore.

Since then, the common merganser and her annual set of progeny has become just that in my summer sightings — common. The hen’s swept back rusty brown crest is now an easy and anticipated pickup during my morning coffee, and the comical race to her back by the growing young birds accompanying her always provides some entertainment as two or three jockey for the limited space before she inevitably dives, sending them scooting across the surface. Then they all hastily regroup and compete for yet another free ride for a few more yards. Often, as she goes under, likely chasing a school of minnows or other food source, the young ones do as well, popping up several feet down the shore and sprinting to come back together in their group around mother.

Before two years ago, I don’t recall ever seeing a set of these birds on the lake or any other fishing water I frequent in summer. While they’re migratory and do have a relatively strong presence in our region, they’re more suited to moving water as opposed to the calm lake shore where I see them most every day I’m there. I’ve not yet seen the male responsible for the hatchlings either, though photos in the guides show a much different bird than the female, with a sleek black head and white body. Perhaps in time I will, or with my adventures around the area’s waters in seasons to come, I’ll encounter them earlier in the year.

In the meantime, though, I’ll watch them throughout this summer, awaiting each morning’s entertainment as the young ones grow and their mother instructs them in the finer points of diving and fishing for the young-of-the-year bluegills and schools of minnows developing in the shallows of the lake. Through those more regular occurrences, as I’m making a few morning casts from the dock for my own connection with some panfish, raking the beach, or just finishing a cup of coffee while staring across the glassy surface, I hope that this particular group of birds becomes even more commonplace in my daily log of enjoyable sightings … in our outdoors.