Foggy Morning Loon Photography Paddle: Loon Disputes and Wildlife Encounters

On a cool, foggy Adirondack morning, I set out with two paddlers for a quiet private wildlife photography paddle. Even before we were on the water, the lake was alive with sound. The unmistakable call of the common loon carried across the fog, and I had already heard at least two loons fly overhead earlier that morning. Loons give a distinct, faster version of the tremolo call while in flight, making it easy to tell the difference between a “flight tremolo” and the one you hear when they’re on the water. It’s one of those unique sounds that instantly sets the mood for the day.

As we began paddling, our first sighting was a pair of double-crested cormorants perched high in a tree. They were backlit by the low morning sun and partly hidden by branches, which made for a challenging shot. Still, it was a promising start to the morning.

Rounding the island where the cormorants sat, we came across our first group of loons—three or four birds in total. Likely, one pair was the resident loon pair of the lake, and the others were intruders in their territory. The territorial pair has a chick this season, which is a big deal: they haven’t successfully raised a chick in over five years. You could feel how protective they were, making sure to drive the other loons out of their waters before returning to care for their young.

What followed was one of the most dramatic loon encounters I’ve witnessed. We watched displays like the penguin dance (a bird rearing upright and paddling frantically on the water), the vulture pose (stretching wings to look larger), and the male’s powerful yodel call—a territorial signal unique to each male. The lake echoed with calls as the loons clashed. We were so captivated by the moment that our cameras sat idle, and were only able to photograph the tail end of the fight. Sometimes it’s better to simply be present. Eventually, the intruders gave up and flew off, passing just yards from our boats.

Not long after the first territorial dispute on the lake, a juvenile bald eagle soared overhead, prompting all the loons to erupt in wails and tremolos. Hearing their calls in response to the eagle was incredible, giving us a vivid sense of how many birds were present on the lake that morning.

Following the eagle encounter, another territorial dispute unfolded around the next bend on the lake. This one was less intense but still thrilling. At one point, a loon flew directly overhead, its wingbeats heavy and deliberate. Loons are not built for easy flight—those long bodies and heavy bones make takeoff a struggle, and you can truly hear the power and effort it takes to stay airborne.

After the excitement, we continued to the quiet wetland at the far end of the lake. Here, the mood shifted from dramatic to peaceful. A beaver swam by, tail slapping before disappearing into the water. Belted kingfishers rattled overhead, diving occasionally for fish, and a young hooded merganser swam amongst the pickerelweed.

As we made our way back toward the launch, the action wasn’t over yet. Another group of four loons had gathered, once again sparking territorial tension. Just before we landed, the group dispersed, and a pair swam calmly about 15 feet in front of us. They slipped back toward their territory, likely returning to the business of raising their chick.

It was the perfect end to a morning of wild encounters, dramatic loon behavior, and quiet moments with other Adirondack wildlife. Every paddle is different, and that’s what makes them so special—there’s never a guarantee of what you’ll see, but there’s always something to be amazed by.

Interested in joining a guided wildlife or loon photography paddle?

I offer private and small-group trips focused on photographing wildlife in their natural habitat, with tips and techniques for capturing the perfect shot from the water. Email me at andrewhudnut247@gmail.com for upcoming dates and details, or visit my Workshops page to see what we have planned next!