THE LOON. 895 
Authorities.—C olymbus torquatus Brun., Lawrence, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. 
UES Ohi TUES Teste, jos teksts IP, (COuS ILS ne IDS INI Ife Bis 1B 
Specimens.—(U. of W.) BN. 
AS we gaze upon some ocean greyhound lying at her moorings, we 
note with kindling eye the graceful lines of bow and. stern, the suggestive 
inclination of mast and funnel, and we declare her perfect for her chosen 
element, the sea. We know that a transpacific liner would cut a sorry figure 
on land and a sorrier still in the air, but we do not allow ourselves to be 
disturbed by such comparisons. Viewed strictly as a water bird, as Nature 
intended, the Loon is a paragon of beauty. Alert, supple, vigorous, one 
knows himself to be in the presence of the master wild thing, when he 
comes upon a Loon on guard in his native element. The bird seems to 
move about almost without effort, a single backward kick of one of those 
immense paddles serving to send it forward at any desired speed, while 
the head is turned inquiringly from side to side as if to take your measure. 
A shout, a false motion, the flash of a gun, and the wild thing has van- 
ished, leaving scarcely a ripple to mark its recent resting place. It reap- 
pears, if at all, at a surprisingly great distance, and if really alarmed, only 
the head is thrust out of water to take breath, get bearings, and disappear again. 
A Loon is not invulnerable, but an educated bird must be secured by 
stealth or guile if at all. Generations of gun practice have made the bird 
such an expert diver that, given room enough in which to dive, it is all but 
unpossible to shoot one. Once on Lake Chelan, when I was really desir- 
ous of securing a specimen, I concealed myself behind an eminence with a 
Winchester rifle, and shot down at a supposedly unsuspecting Loon. After 
the first shot the bird turned and paddled slowly toward the ambuscade 
with what seemed lke an amused smile playing about his features. After 
the seventh shot, the disappearing target tired of the game and vanished 
altogether. Poor marksmanship? Not a bit of it. Expert diving! On the 
other hand, I shall never recall without a surge of shame another bird just 
off shore, which was only to have been frightened. I was. in full view and 
brought up the shot-gun without attempt at concealment. The bird never 
flinched. Sheer butchery! But how is one to tell an ingenuw from an old- 
timer? I have done with Loon shooting. 
Under water the Loon moves with great rapidity, using its wings to 
assist its progress. It is thus able easily to overtake a fish, which it trans- 
fixes by a stroke of its dagger-like beak and brings to the surface for con- 
sumption. When the water is clear enough to admit of it, it is a delight to 
watch the air-bubbles which cling to the diver in the translucent depths, like 
a silvery coat of mail, and which he shakes off only upon emerging at the 
surface again. 
In singular contrast to the Loon’s facility and grace in the water, is its 
