water flung upward by the web feet of the loon." When disabled so
that it can neither dive nor fly, it is said to face its foe, look
him in the face with its clear, piercing eye, and fight resolutely
till death. The gunners say there is something in its wailing,
piteous cry, when dying, almost human in its agony. The loon is, in
the strictest sense, an aquatic fowl. It can barely walk upon the
land, and one species at least cannot take flight from the shore.
But in the water its feet are more than feet, and its wings more
than wings. It plunges into this denser air and flies with
incredible speed. Its head and beak form a sharp point to its
tapering neck. Its wings are far in front and its legs equally far
in the rear, and its course through the crystal depths is like the
speed of an arrow. In the northern lakes it has been taken forty
feet under water upon hooks baited for the great lake trout. I had
never seen one till last fall, when one appeared on the river in
front of my house. I knew instantly it was the loon. Who could
not tell a loon a half mile or more away, though he had never seen
one before? The river was like glass, and every movement of the
bird as it sported about broke the surface into ripples, that
revealed it far and wide. Presently a boat shot out from shore,
and went ripping up the surface toward the loon. The creature at
once seemed to divine the intentions of the boatman, and sidled
off obliquely, keeping a sharp lookout as if to make sure it was
pursued. A steamer came down and passed between them, and when the
way was again clear, the loon was still swimming on the surface.
Presently it disappeared under the water, and the boatman pulled
sharp and hard. In a few moments the bird reappeared some rods
farther on, as if to make an observation. Seeing it was being
pursued, and no mistake, it dived quickly, and, when it came up
again, had gone many times as far as the boat had in the same space