When Patience Pays Off

Loons, one of the most elusive creatures to ever step foot on this planet. Ok, maybe a slight exaggeration.

A lifelong fan of traveling to the Adirondacks in Upstate, NY, I’ve heard loons many times. Waking up in the early morning, fog hovering over the lake, that eerie call echoes through the air. You know immediately what it is yet it still brings excitement every time. The loon is out there, but where?

Ah, there you are.

As time passes you start to see them. Often even. They could be hundreds of feet offshore and you notice their pointy little heads bobbing in the waves. What is the dead giveaway? When they seemingly disappear and resurface in a completely different spot minutes later. They are large black birds that often travel in pairs. However, more often than not you hear one before seeing them.

After encountering loons time and time again and combining my new interest in photography, my goal in life became getting one of those National Geographic type photos of one. Not owning the equipment of a wildlife photographer, mainly due to the tens of thousands of dollars required for a lens, this task became ever increasingly more of a challenge. Loons don’t come to you when you call, so you must go to them.

Camera equipment is expensive. 

Tangent? Maybe, but it's important to note. 

In order to go to the loons, one must get in a vessel of sorts and float out into the dangerous, uncharted waters. Though the waters are neither dangerous nor uncharted, you are relying on your boating skills to ensure the safety of the many dollars spent on a DSLR and lens. Some say I’m crazy, I say you can’t get this picture without some risk.

Anyways, one evening while staying on Fourth Lake in Inlet, NY, my dad and I went for a kayak trip. We did this every night while in the Adirondacks and every night I would bring my camera. After taking photos of the beautiful fall colors in the mountains we paddled our way back towards the cabin.

Loons!

Sure enough, in the distance I see a male and female loon taking an evening stroll. They were far away enough that I couldn’t get a picture but my hope was to paddle towards them and not scare them away. Then the inevitable happens. They go under water. Frantically looking around waiting for them to resurface, I had my camera at the ready, settings dialed in, ready to spam the shutter.

Pop! They both came up one after the other slightly closer to me. Having a max of 70mm lens on me, I needed to be within 20’ to get a decent shot. Even then I’m relying on my heavy megapixel camera to get a close up of these two. Far enough away to not get a clear shot, but close enough to see, I took a few photos and waited.

If I stayed in one spot, maybe they would accidentally land right next to the kayak. Wishful thinking, wouldn’t that be nice. They went under and came up further away. I paddled that direction, only for them to go under and pop up in a different direction. I quickly turned the kayak to head that way, only to watch them disappear again and pop up in another direction.

I got to a point where I’d paddle towards a random direction after they went under water and grabbed my camera and waited. I did this several times with minimal luck. My dad, becoming a bit less patient, noted he was going to head in. I said, “I’ll do this one more time then head in right behind you.” He waited with me.

Sure enough, the loons dove, I paddled in a direction to a gentle glide, pulled out the camera and waited. Wouldn’t you know, these two loons came up for air right next to my kayak. I was startled with how close they were. Afraid they’d fly away. Nervous that I was too close. 

I took so many photos.

When I say I spammed the shutter on my camera, I must have taken 20+ shots of these loons within a minute. I didn’t care about anything at that moment other than making sure I documented every second. These elusive creatures were finally caught on my very own DSLR.

I may have only walked away with two pictures I liked, however, the experience taking these photos far outweighs the photos themselves.

You may see waterfowl. I see patience mixed with dumb luck.