A LOON. 61 



blaze from the muzzle they dive, and the bullet, if 

 well aimed, will strike the water exactly where they 

 sat. I have shot at them again and again, with a 

 dead rest, and those watching would see the ball each 

 time strike directly in the hollow made by the wake 

 of the water above the creature's back. There is no 

 killing them except by firing at them when they are 

 not expecting it, and then their neck and head are 

 the only vulnerable points. They sit so deep in the 

 water, and the quills on their backs are so hard and 

 compact that a ball seems to make no impression on 

 them. At least, I h'ave never seen one killed by being 

 shot through the body. Such are the me-ans of self- 

 preservation possessed by this curious bird, whose 

 wild and shrill and lonely cry on the water at mid- 

 night is one of the most melancholy sounds I ever 

 heard in the forest. 



This loon, of which I was just noAV speaking, I 

 wished very much to kill, in order to carry his skin 

 to New York with me, and so, after firing at him in 

 vain, I asked Mitchell if we could not, both of us 

 together, manage to take him. He told me to land 

 him where the channel was narrow that entered Long 

 Lake, and paddle along towards where the loon was, 

 and drive him out. As I. approached him, he dived, 

 and, knowing that he would make straight for the 

 lake, I watched the whole line of his progress with 

 the utmost care ; but, though my range took in nearly 

 the third of a mile, I never saw him again. After a 

 while, I heard the crack of a rifle around the bend of 

 the shore, and hastening there, I found Mitchell load- 



