We have lived on Chautauqua Lake now for over 30 years and have very seldom seen the lake, as it now is, iced-over before Christmas. It may have happened once or twice before, but then, I think, it was only partially frozen.

The snowfall this year has also been significant, i.e. the kind of snow you usually see in January or February. At last count, the Village of Mayville had recorded 58.9 inches of snow.

We have already seen, in December, a few ice fishermen on the lake–a scene that usually takes place in mid to late January. Winter is upon us!

The other day an eagle landed out on the ice apparently to pick up some frozen food or fish it had spotted. Our dogs, who came during past Christmastimes and were appropriately named by our grandchildren, were outside to do their business and to stretch their legs, then saw the eagle on the ice and took off.

My wife screamed, “Come back home, Blitzen!” “Come home, Dasher!” To no avail. The eagle, of course, cooly ignored the dogs until they got close, and then spread its wings and was gone–the frozen lake displaying the scene in all its glory.

The dogs got to the spot, looked up at the departing eagle and looked back dejectedly toward the house. Finally, the words “Come home… treat!” got through to them. They turned, ambled and finally loped back toward the house. Dogs understand the word “treat,” and that day was no exception.

When I see the cold and winter and ice descend so early on the lake, I begin reciting in my brain that old Robert Service poem: “‘Twas Christmas day and we were mushing our way over the Dawson Trail. Talk of your cold, through the parka’s fold, it stabbed like a driven nail….”

It has been that kind of winter so far. Robert Service finally takes you to “the marge of Lake LaBarge” where he cremates Sam McGee by building a fire from the remains of an old derelict Yukon steamboat. Instead, for heat, I turn up our natural gas stove to get warm and then gaze out on frozen Lake Chautauqua, grateful that I am inside the house looking out.

Just before ice covered the lake, the migrating white tundra swans came through. I don’t know how they knew that winter was a month early, but here they were. The ice, as it transitions, builds from the shore toward the middle of the lake, and the swans hung out at the perimeter where the ice and open water met.

As we know, Chautauqua Lake is now rimmed with hundreds of homes and cottages. Yet, at this time of year, these human structures seem to fade into the background along with the snow that surrounds them. The ice and snow-covered lake predominate. When the wind whips up and the snow is blowing down the frozen lake, you almost feel like you are out on the tundra along with that poet from the Yukon mushing down the Dawson Trail on that sleigh on Christmas Day.

Chautauqua Lake is quite a place. From Memorial Day to Labor Day, the humanoids with their activities dominate the lake. Then fall comes and the lake begins to return again to mother nature.

Then comes Christmas, and this year with early ice cover, it makes you think that you actually are up in the far north. It is just you, the snow-covered ice and the elements.

Rolland Kidder is a Stow resident.