THE OOLOGIST 



365 



a mile or so — give the regulation yell 

 and the fiends in the canyon will an- 

 swer." John and Bob did their part. 

 They turned to the right, followed the 

 trail and gave the regulation yell. But 

 the answer that came from the canyon 

 was a "caution." "■Who-o-o-o-o-o-p!" 

 "What on earth — did you ever hear 

 such a racket? It isn't them it's—" 

 "Yes it is. It's some new yell they've 

 contrived. Perhaps one of them has 

 the stomach ache, or — or — " "Oout. 

 Ki-i-i-ip! Le-e-e-a-ho /" li Who-o-o-o-o- 

 o-p! Whoo-o-o-o-o-p! Yil yil yi-i-iV 

 came from the canyon. "Well I'll — 

 wouldn't it skin you anyway? Well, 

 all we can do is to hunt em up." They 

 hunted them up and were introduced 

 to Urinator imber. Oh, that I could 

 have first met him under similar cir- 

 cumstances! 



We lived on a bluff, above the small 

 lake. The lake was the home of sever- 

 al Loons. Sometimes there was but 

 three, often five. The Loons were mce 

 apt to talk to us during the early morn- 

 ing or in the evening. The first of us 

 who awoke in the morning would give 

 a whoop that was always sure to start a 

 concert down on the lake. Our camp- 

 fire was the occasion of much inquisi- 

 tive talk among them of an evening. 

 There was little satisfaction to me in 

 always watching them from the bluff. 

 I wanted to get nearer — to touch one if 

 possible. 



Down near the water I saw a bed in 

 the sphagnum where a deer had been 

 passing a quiet day. A small trail told 

 methathe frequently came here to drink. 

 Early the next morning I took a stand 

 on the shore a short distance from the 

 trail. As soon as objects could be 

 clearly seen, an old Urinator set up a 

 yell. There was a strange object on 

 the brush-covered shore, and he could 

 not restrain his desire to inspect it. I 

 say he, but, I will^Avager my rifle that 

 "he" was a female. His bugle had 

 roused his comrades and on they came. 



They would make a large circle, grace- 

 fully sailing until their sides were ex- 

 posed to me. There, seeming to be- 

 come suddenly frightened, one or two 

 would dive, while the others would 

 scud away at a great rate. They would 

 then reassemble, utter a few cries and 

 make a circle that would bring them 

 nearer. The same hasty retreat would 

 again be made. This circling and re- 

 treating soon became monotonous and 

 they adopted bolder tactics. They ap- 

 proached in a zigzag line. Now, the 

 leader would waver, fall back, turn 

 sidewise or rising up, flap his wings 

 while another took the lead. Then, af- 

 ter several softly uttered cries they 

 would all gracefully sail away, casting 

 backward glances as if they were sorx-y 

 to leave. Curiosity, however, was their 

 master, and slowly turning round, they 

 returned. This time they came in close 

 order, occasionally uttering a sharp cry 

 that seemed defiant. I moved toward 

 them. There was a plunge and not a 

 Loon could be seen. They could not 

 remain under long as they were almost 

 dying to know what I was. They came 

 bobbing up in different places, flapped 

 their wings and took another look at 

 me. I did not look half as dangerous 

 as the stag that drank at the lake the 

 day before, and he was hai'mless. But 

 what was I? I walked backward a few 

 paces. Each Loon chai-ged forward at 

 his best pace, and each one screamed 

 his loudest. A forward movement on 

 my part caused a sudden halt on the 

 part of the birds. They were almost 

 within throwing distance. The bodies 

 of three Loons were so close together 

 that they made one large target. I 

 slowly raised my rifle— bang! There 

 was a curl of blue smoke near me and 

 a small space of agitated water where 

 the Loons had been. Their curiosity 

 was gratified, our interview at an end 

 and I was ready for breakfast. 



Our next camp was about forty miles 

 north of Blue Lake. We had sailed the 



