THE SUBMERGED TENTH 



one, at least, of the Loons will cease its flight 

 and fall to the water with tremendous force, while 

 the survivors keep steadily on their way. 



Lying there in the stern of the dory, tossed by 

 the waves, and not over warm, it must be confessed, 

 for hours I watch the Loons and other fowl come 

 and go. Sometimes it is the big fellow, the Great 

 Northern Loon, but rather oftener the smaller Red- 

 throated species whose throat, however, has now 

 lost all trace of its summer redness. The shoe- 

 maker gunners have nicknamed it " the Pegging-awl 

 Loon," from its slender, sharp bill. Though 

 smaller than the great Loon, it is still a big bird. 

 The former can laugh loud enough in its summer 

 home on the lakes, but in the autumn flight, at any 

 rate, I think it is outdone by the " Pegging-awl." 

 The latter goes farther to the north to breed than 

 its relative, and if it is correspondingly noisy, the 

 Arctic solitudes where it is found must be far from 

 silent. 



If this be a fairly good flight-day, Loons will 

 probably pass within sight every ten minutes at 

 least. Sometimes from three to six will follow 

 one another some rods apart, at irregular intervals. 

 Just as often they travel singly. If there is any 

 difference in the general habits of the two kinds, I 

 think that the "Pegging-awl" is the more apt to 

 go in parties. If, too, he is the greater talker, we 

 may award him the palm for sociability. But that 

 they are both good company, I can testify. 



In the calm of the early morning very likely 

 there will be one or two large Loons riding over 

 the swells, diving now and then after their finny 



