THE WILDERNESS IN JUNE 271 



we well knew their source. The proverbial laugh- 

 ter of demons could scarcely have been more 

 fearsome. It is said these cries are not unlike 

 the howling of wolves. 



One year while at Big L}^ord Pond, the head- 

 waters of Pleasant River, we found a Loon's 

 nest by the shore. At dusk we made an effort to 

 stalk the sitting bird in our canoe, but while yet 

 fifty feet away she slid into the water, the gleam 

 of her white breast in the shallows being the 

 only indication we had of her presence, until 

 she arose a hundred yards from shore. Far into 

 the night the pair broke the stillness with their 

 cries of protest at being disturbed. 



The Loon is a fish-eating bird that seizes its 

 prey under the water with its strong, sharply 

 pointed bill. Stories are told of fishermen catch- 

 ing Loons in water eighty or more feet deep, good 

 evidence of their power as swimmers. They 

 range in summer from northern New England 

 to the Arctic Circle, wintering usually about the 

 salt water, from southern New England to the 

 Gulf. 



Midday brings me to camp, where a lunch of 

 broiled trout is greatly enjoyed, and in the hour 

 of leisure that follows, several of my feathered 

 friends call. A Robin comes hurtling out of the 

 thicket by the spring, watches me for a time, 

 then disappears, seemingly quite out of place 

 in this remote locality. The harsh cackles of 

 the Rusty Blackbird are heard as a squad ap- 

 pears, vigorously punishing a solitary Crow 

 which evidently ventured too near their nests. 

 This is the only com puller I have seen since com- 



