BIRD STORIES 



plants, which they had piled up among the stems of the 

 rushes until it reached six inches or more out of the 

 water. They were really in the centre of a nest island, 

 with water all about them. So, you see, Gavia was 

 within splashing distance of her fishing-pool after all. 



She and her mate, indeed, were in the habit of mak- 

 ing their nests here in the cove; though the two pairs 

 of Neighbor Loons, who built year after year farther 

 up the lake, chose places on the island near the water- 

 line in the spring; and when the water sank lower later 

 on, they were left high and dry where they had to 

 flounder back and forth to and from the nest, as awk- 

 ward on land as they were graceful in the water. 



Faithful to her unhatched young as Gavia was, it is 

 not likely that she alone kept them warm for nearly 

 thirty days and nights; for Father Loon remained close 

 at hand, and would he not help her with this task? 



Gavia, sitting on her nest, did not look like herself 

 of the early winter months when she had played among 

 the ocean waves. For her head and neck were now a 

 beautiful green, and she wore two white striped collars, 

 while the back of her feather coat was neatly checked 

 off with little white squarish spots. Father Loon wore 

 the same style that she did. Summer and winter, they 

 dressed aUke. 



Yes, a handsome couple, indeed, waited that long 



54 



