Encounters with the elusive cat, the lynx.

John Starr - Naturalist Photographer

by John Starr

In the East Beaches area, where wildlife is plentiful, most residents and cottage-goers can maunder on about all the wildlife they’ve seen, from black bear, to fox, to coyote. The Canada lynx, however, is in a class of its own. Encounters with the elusive cat with the black-tipped ears and snowshoe-like feet are extremely rare.

I was driving around aimlessly, looking for anything to photograph. I went months without any photos, and was getting frustrated. I almost drove past a backroad I've been down many times before, one I never had luck with seeing anything down. I decided to try my luck this day and I’m sure glad I did. So, I turned off the highway and drove through the fresh snow.

As I slowly drove over a hill, I spotted something off in the distance, right in the middle of the road. Coyote! I scrambled for the binoculars, got out of the car, and was blown away to realize this wasn’t a coyote — it was a lynx!

This was the second lynx I’ve seen in the wild. I waited, patiently observing, to see where it would go. I slowly drove towards it as soon as it went west off the road. I parked the car and followed its tracks through waist-deep snow.

Lynx have huge paws that act like snowshoes – making it easy for it to traverse across the soft, deep snow with ease. I didn’t come prepared - snowshoes were at the cottage - I was quickly exhausted and I couldn’t keep up. As I watched my opportunity slip away, I had to pull myself back through the snow - which was more likened to freezing quicksand. I felt defeated as I got back to the car. I saw my first lynx only a week before and it had eluded me - even with the help of snowshoes.

Frozen and exhausted, I got into my car; I was losing light, and it was time to call it quits and go home. But not before a quick drive up the road to turn around. As I was making my way back – I spotted two lynx high up in aspen trees! It must have done a loop and crossed the road to the east while I was struggling to find it. 

I opened the car door and was greeted with very loud hissing and growling. No time to be afraid, I needed photographs! One lynx was up one tree, and another larger lynx was in a tree next to it. The light was waning, and I had to act fast if I wanted photos. I got into position and started photographing both of them. They both started descending their selected trees. I was firing off shots, frozen from the cold and the amazement of what I was witnessing. Both of them walked right by me, crossed the road, and disappeared into some dense jack pines. The growling and hissing followed the setting sun into the darkness of the forest.

I spent five weeks following these lynx — which turned out to be a mother and her kitten. I witnessed the mother hazing off her teenaged offspring. They do this when their young are old enough to be on their own. It was emotional to witness. The young one just wanted to be with mom, and didn’t seem to understand why she was trying to chase it away. Most sightings were at night, other sightings were in bush too dense for photographs. I even witnessed the mother with a freshly caught snowshoe hare in her mouth. Their main source of prey.

I followed their tracks for 17 kilometres on the last day I spent looking for them. At one point, the tracks broke off, and separated. This was the last time mother and kitten would walk together. I made the decision to follow the young one’s tracks. I was led deeper and deeper into the forest, and further and further away from the safety of its mother and familiarity. I imagined how scared the little one must have been. But it was ready to set out alone to seek new, unfamiliar territory.

I had no more energy as I finally stopped at the edge of a clear-cut. I sat down and looked at the time— 7:47PM, middle of March —the sun was turning the snow into a fiery orange, and then gradually into a solemn blue. The young lynx tracks went straight across the clear-cut with purpose, and into the deep, dark uncertainty of the boreal.

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