EXPERIENCE SHOWS OTHER SIDE OF WILDLIFE

Saturday, December 30, 2006 

Naturalist John Muir described its call as "one of the wildest and most striking of all the wilderness songs, a strange, sad, mournful, unearthly cry, half laughing, half wailing." It is the symbol of wilderness and solitude, and the most primitive bird on the planet, almost unchanged in body plan from Hesperornis, an aquatic bird from 100 million years ago.

The loon, however, is more than that. It is Ontario’s official bird, chosen some 12 years ago, voted in by thoughtful and sympathetic children who saw it as the obvious choice, and is also the bird pictured on our Canadian one dollar coin, hence, the name "loonie."

What a symbol of peace, amicability and social interaction between members of its own species. Or, is it? Not necessarily so, claims well known nature photographer Mike Runtz of Ottawa who watched an encounter between two individuals that revealed a different side to this loved species. In an e-mail to me earlier this fall, Mike commented on two loons that he had chanced upon while in the Thousand Islands. It was an encounter like no other that he had ever seen in his extensive career of photographing wild animals, and was curious to know if other naturalists and acquaintances had witnessed anything similar. "It was like watching a Rocky boxing movie, but for real!" Mike described the event in his e-mail.

While boating to an island in the St. Lawrence Islands National Park, he came upon three loons, two of which approached each other. Rising up out of the water and opening their wings, they faced each other and uttered the wild undulating calls known as "yodels." This was a territorial act that Mike had seen many times when in Algonquin Park. But, then something quite unexpected took place. The two loons began striking each other with their beaks and wings. The intensity of the action accelerated, with the air soon alive with splashes of water and the whacks of wings.

Whenever the loons saw an opportunity, they would aggressively grab hold of each other by the head and neck. One, he said, became quite successful at this, and while its foe was held securely in its beak, it would repeatedly strike it against the neck with its wings. The other also fiercely fought back with powerful blows, its wings, however, failing to hit much else except the loon’s back. The fierce battle continued for 10 minutes, with one loon bleeding heavily from a wound to its upper chest, its white breast quickly turning pink, then red. However, despite the serious injury, this bird eventually proved to be the victor. The bleeding loon began holding its opponent’s head under water in an effort to drown it, occasionally diving as it tried to drag its opponent under water. The losing bird grew weaker and lost its ability to fight back, trying several times to escape, repeatedly diving, but resurfacing only a short distance away due to being so weak. Almost immediately upon resurfacing, its adversary resumed its relentless attack on the now weakened bird, holding the losing bird under water for longer periods of time, eventually drowning it.

For several minutes the victor dove and resurfaced in a new location as if searching for its opponent. No longer able to find it, the bird began to wail loudly, a call normally used to contact distant mates. The third bird which was not involved in the battle, and likely the female mate of the victor, replied with the laughing tremolo calls. Mike has been busy editing and piecing his video footage in an effort to explain the unusual behaviour of these two loons.

"The lethal interaction of these two loons clearly demonstrates the folly of classifying a creature by how we interpret its demeanor. In Nature, even "gentle species" can display a very different side, especially when it comes to attaining a meal, acquiring a mate, or, as was likely the case in this loon encounter, defending a piece of real estate. Nature is never gentle, nor is she cruel. Nature is simply wild and magnificent," concluded Mike Runtz.