This is the first installment of a new column, which will explore a local legend, historical tale, or mystery surrounding Islip Town, Long Island, and beyond.

The Ronkonkoma Recreation Center, located at 299 Rosevale Avenue, Town of Islip, filled every seat, as residents were led by the irresistible siren’s song to learn more about the mysterious apparition known as the Lady of the Lake, Princess Ronkonkoma, or just Ronkonkoma. On Saturday, Feb. 25, at 3 p.m.—overlooking the majestic lake—this highly requested program was presented by Ellyn Okvist, scholar and public historian. She brought factual, documented records to the first public presentation of her research and development program, “Drownings on Ronkonkoma Lake.”

Okvist made it clear that this program would be dealing only in “primary source” material, which could be found on official record, leaving legend and myth largely out of the discussion. This omission was understandable from a historical point of view, but it left some audience members hungering for more stories about the myths surrounding the enigmatic largest freshwater lake on Long Island, created by a retreating glacier.

As emphasized by Okvist, there is no proof that the tragic heroine of this fable ever lived. However, the Lady certainly exists now, in the hearts and minds of residents who can’t help but be swept away by tales of the lake—which appears to be something out of a fairy tale—as it is enveloped by an enchanted vista of woods lined with alabaster sand.

As philosopher Fredrich Nietzsche was quoted as saying: “There are no beautiful surfaces without a terrible depth.” This is certainly an apt aphorism for contemplating Lake Ronkonkoma—which many believed to be bottomless—and while this has been proven false by intrepid explorers, the lake’s deep and dark waters have been the scene of about 130 drownings, with at least 90 verifiable by primary sources, according to Okvist, a seventh-generation Lake Ronkonkoma resident.

There are various iterations of the legend of Lake Ronkonkoma; however, the basic details are as follows: As stated on lakerhs.org, in the 1600s, a beautiful and doomed Native American girl fell in love with an Islip settler named Hugh Birdsall, who worked as a woodcutter—and lived in a log cabin he built—on the banks of the nearby Connetquot River. On moonlit nights, Ronkonkoma would sneak out into the forest and watch for her beloved, while shielded by the cover of trees and under the dark of night.

As the legend tells it, Birdsall was completely unaware of his secret admirer, until one fateful summer night—when the moon was full—he was restless and unable to sleep. He began stalking back and forth in front of his cabin, drawn out by some unseen force. It was then that he finally caught a glimpse of the enchanting vision adorned in colored beads, reflecting the moon’s glow. As one would expect from such a tale, it was love at first sight for the besotted Birdsall. However, marriage between the pair was forbidden due to social convention.

For seven years, the two continued their epistolary assignations, in a 17th-century version of texting. Every day, Ronkonkoma would paddle her canoe to the middle of the lake and discreetly float a patch of birch bark—inscribed with words of longing and love—and every day, for seven years, Birdsall would receive the piece of bark he knew would eventually flow to him on sacred waters.

Most of you, dear readers, know roughly how this story goes. Next week’s column will include the remainder of this local legend. It will also include a more recent, unexplained firsthand encounter with what was believed to be the Lady of the Lake reported by a marine biologist.

If you have an idea for a local historical story, mystery, or legend you would like to see featured in this column, message shanabraff@optonline.net.