My Best Day Paddling for Wildlife Photography

During the summer, most of my wildlife photography takes place from my Swift 14′ Prospector Pack Boat. I prefer exploring spots off the beaten path, far from crowds. These quiet encounters with nature feel more rewarding, and I’ve always said I’d rather spend time alone with a chickadee than stand shoulder to shoulder with others to see a rarity. 

I’ve had some pretty awesome encounters since the maiden voyage in 2019, but none compare to the one I had just a few weeks ago. 

Arriving at the lake at sunrise, fog danced across the lake as the sun made its way above the tree line. For late June, it was a surprisingly cool start to the day, and I found myself wearing more layers than I had in quite some time. 

After lifting my boat off the car and carrying it a short distance to the lake, I loaded the rest of my gear, including safety equipment, lunch, bug spray, and of course my camera. I donned my life jacket and began paddling across the lake. 

Paddling directly into the rising sun combined with the fog made seeing wildlife a real challenge. I could see the almost ghostly silhouette of a great blue heron foraging along the edge of the lake. Not long after, a loon appeared in the fog accompanied by its haunting call.

I would have been more than satisfied if this was my only encounter of the day, but oh no, it got better. I was debating whether or not to head home and get back to work. Looking at my watch, I realized I still had time, so I decided to check out the next lake. Between these two lakes was yet another beaver dam, which in previous years has involved pulling over. A few years ago, after heavy rain, the dam blew and has not been repaired despite beavers still in the area. With the water high, it looked as though I could paddle right through. 

As I approached the dam, I heard the call of a spotted sandpiper. I love shorebirds, so I looked for it, and to my delight, it was on a rock not too far away. After capturing a few images, I heard a pair of sandhill cranes that were clearly agitated by something. Still out of sight and paddling quietly, I knew it wasn’t me that had their feathers ruffled. As I moved toward the source of the calls, they fell silent. I could not see or hear the cranes. Puzzled by their sudden disappearance, I scanned the shoreline and saw a set of ears. It was an Algonquin wolf!

There’s always a great debate when it comes to Algonquin wolf sightings. Some will argue it’s a coyote, and others say it’s a hybrid. After decades of research, the Algonquin wolf is now recognized as its own unique species or special evolutionary unit after a long history of hybridization between gray wolves, eastern wolves, and coyotes. The largest population of this species is found within Algonquin Park. I’ve spoken with members of the MNR and park staff over the years, and they have all said the same thing: these are Algonquin wolves. So, if you are in Algonquin Park and see a medium-sized wild dog that looks like a coyote or a wolf, it’s an Algonquin wolf.       

Good birding,
Paul       

My Gear 

• Camera: Canon EOS R6 Mark II 
• Main wildlife lens: Canon RF 100-500 F4.5-7.1L IS USM
• Camera Harness: Cotton Carrier CCS G3 Single Camera Strap System
• Binoculars: Vortex Vanquish HD 10 x 42 
   

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