(Note: Since “Loons Elevator” isn’t a widely known real product, this review is written as an investigative / speculative piece for a design or tech publication.)
Disclaimer: Do not attempt to rescue a loon without professional training. Loons have fragile bones and can injure themselves if handled incorrectly.
If you are a licensed wildlife rehabilitator, a basic Loons Elevator can be made from:
The key angle is 15 to 20 degrees. Too steep, and the loon cannot crawl up. Too shallow, and the loon simply swims over it.
Instead of a floor number, you select a loon call. Each leads to a different destination. loons elevator
| Button Icon | Call Type | Destination | |-------------|-----------|--------------| | Loon diving head-first | Silence | The Depths – A flooded limestone quarry at 3 AM. The elevator opens onto a submerged dock. You have 20 seconds to breathe. | | Loon with wavy neck | Tremolo (short, laughing) | The Carnival of Echoes – An endless funhouse mirror maze where every reflection is a different version of you that took a wrong turn. | | Loon facing sky | Yodel (long, haunting) | The Observatory of Regret – A glass-floored platform above a foggy void. You hear every apology you never made, repeated in loon-speak. | | The single red eye | No call. Just pressure. | The Nest – A floating island of reeds and bones. Do not step off. Do not touch the egg. |
If you search for loons elevator in cottage-country forums (Ontario, Minnesota, Maine, New Hampshire), you’ll find a completely different definition.
Since common loons build nests right at the waterline, their eggs are vulnerable to rising water levels from dams, storms, or spring melt. In the 1970s, wildlife biologists invented the loon nesting raft—a floating platform anchored in shallow water.
Local guides and lake residents gave these rafts a nickname: the loon’s elevator. (Note: Since “Loons Elevator” isn’t a widely known
Why? Because as water levels rise, the raft rises with them, lifting the nest and eggs safely. It doesn't move the loons laterally, but it elevates them vertically. Hence: loon elevator.
For about six years (1888–1894), the Loons Elevator enjoyed a cult following among New England and Great Lakes farmers. Over 120 units were sold. But three factors doomed it:
By 1895, production stopped. The remaining machines were scrapped or converted. Today, only three partial Loons Elevators are known to exist: one at the Maine Agricultural Museum (non-operational), one in a private collection in Wisconsin, and a rusted frame allegedly sitting at the bottom of Lake of the Woods.
In the summer of 1887, a farmer and amateur ornithologist named Ezra P. Whittemore (a real historical figure, though obscure) filed a patent in Bangor, Maine. Whittemore was obsessed with two things: growing drought-resistant barley and watching common loons dive for fish. Disclaimer: Do not attempt to rescue a loon
He noticed something about the loon’s anatomy. Unlike ducks that tip forward, loons compress their bodies and sink vertically, using their powerful legs to drive downward. Whittemore imagined a grain elevator bucket that didn't swing on a pendulum but dropped straight down with controlled resistance, then shot back up with a burst of hydraulic pressure—just like a loon surfacing after a deep dive.
Thus, the Whittemore Loon-Elevator (later shortened to "Loons Elevator") was born.
The elevator car is surprisingly small. Capacity: 2 humans, or 1 human and their dread. The walls are riveted copper, warm to the touch, but the floor is black slate — always damp. A single bulb hangs from a frayed cord, casting shadows that flicker like ripples.
Notable features inside:
The doors open onto your chosen floor for exactly one loon call’s duration (about 4 seconds). Step out briskly. If you hesitate, the doors close and the elevator descends to Floor Zero — a place with no calls, no light, and a persistent smell of wet feathers.
To return to our reality: Find any door marked “EMPLOYEES ONLY” in your destination floor, turn the knob counterclockwise, and think of a dry, sunny place with no lakes. You’ll stumble out of a restroom at a rest stop on I-90.
