THE GREAT NORTHERN DIVER 117 



playing its delicate white markings. Sometimes he 

 stretches himself wearily, flapping his wings and 

 displaying his white breast and the handsome, showy 

 markings of his sides. Though wary and aloof, and 

 without a trace of animation in his loud, penetrating 

 cries, he shows his kinship by the scrupulous care 

 with which he preens his handsome feathers — even 

 lying on his back in the water to comb out and 

 smooth his glossy white breast. 



A hurried cry from overhead may unexpectedly 

 reveal the presence of a pair of Loons in another 

 element, and it is always fascinating to watch their 

 steady, strained, energetic flight above the tops of the 

 pines, generally to curve down to some more attractive 

 expanse in the Cedar-girt lake. For the water is 

 the Loon's natural element. There is an amusing 

 deliberateness in his graceful, silent dive. He does 

 not make the hurried dip of his smaller cousin, the 

 Grebe, but more calmly curves both neck and body, 

 disappearing under the surface in a graceful arch. 

 Settling down and swimming with only head and neck 

 exposed is an evidence of suspicion, and is generally 

 followed by a long dive, with a belated reappearance 

 in some remote part of the lake. 



When the mother Loon takes her two offsprings 

 out for a swim it is a big event in the domestic circle. 

 The outing is announced by prolonged and unusual 

 repetitions of the laughing call. For half an hour the 



