A Farewell to Loons

A last-of-the-season fabulous boat ride produces less-than-fabulous photos of a family of common loons, in part because the birds and I bob up-and-down at what seem like different amounts/frequencies even though we’re on the self-same lake.

Always fabulous, notwithstanding distance, wave action, light, and (cough) shutter speeds.

Back on dry land, unencumbered by the complex wave-mechanics of Canada’s Shield lakes and untroubled by the shifts in the tectonic plates underlying the Shield itself, I turn my attention to a smaller-and-nearer photographic subject. My dragonfly-identification skills are not my strong point, but at least this time I know that I’m looking at one species. It is, after all, just one individual.

Male autumn meadowhawk? Pretty sure. Pretty fabulous.





Check out Ontario’s dragonflies and damselflies here.

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6 Responses to A Farewell to Loons

  1. Nice that there were loons for to you see/photograph even with the waves.

    In July, we saw one loon at a far greater distance when we were at Waba Museum’s Open house(?) while on a catamaran ride.

    • Isabel Gibson says:

      Jim – We “expect” to see and hear loons on that part of White Lake, but it’s a huge lake. I’ve been kayaking out there and had an adult loon pop up at what felt like about 10 feet from the boat. I think it was as surprised as I was!

  2. Judith Umbach says:

    Excellent close-up!

    Of course, how you captured the loons is how we actually see them – everything bobbing at once. Perhaps a metaphor for life.

    • Isabel Gibson says:

      Judith – I still haven’t quite figured out the range and angle for triggering a dragonfly’s avoidance response, but coming at them from the side seems to work better than a head-on approach, especially if leaning in from above. Too often, the angle is largely determined, if not out-&-out dictated, by where they land. For this one, I got lucky. As for the loons, I always hope for a sunny day and to be up-sun of them (those black heads skimming the surface want good illumination) but you get what you get. Another possible life metaphor. 🙂

  3. The fragility and colours in this minute flyer lead me to think human flying machines have a long way to go to match their efficiency and loveliness. The delicate tracery of its shadow is a compelling aspect of your photograph. What could be a better metaphor for moments of ephemeral awareness highlighted in memory by that scarlet, segmented body? I sense a haiku emerging from your arresting photograph . . . .

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