THB OOLOGIST 



173 



crop and as the wagon leaves us here 

 we "hike" it back to the railroad sta- 

 tion to wait for the down train, reach- 

 ing home at 8 o'clock P. M. 



Sunday, the 15th, finds me at my 

 Woodcock Eagle tree once more and 

 sure enough, a revolver shot brings 

 her off, but the water makes it impos- 

 sible to reach without a wagon and 

 hook. , ^ 



Tuesday, the 17th, finds us bound 

 up on the 5:20 P. M. train, a buggy 

 drive of a mile, half in water up to 

 the wheel hubs, and we are there. 

 No Woodcock eggs in the nest, only 

 two eagle eggs, no load stone either, 

 so back home by the light of the 

 moon. 



To date, 3-21-14, finds bad snow and 

 ice once more, so I presume this ends 

 all eagle trips for this season, while 

 Woodcocks have had to lay not less 

 than three times, a necessity not 

 blameable to oologists, much as somu 

 persons would like to. 



Harold H. Bailey. 



Gavia Imber. 

 (Loon) 



Before I came to Manitoba, I lived 

 in Ontario near the shores of beauti- 

 ful Doe Lake, where the loons were 

 regular summer visitors. As the lake 

 was about 9 miles long, though nar- 

 row, there would have been plenty 

 of room for several pairs of loons, 

 but, as a matter of fact, only one pair, 

 evidently the same one, came every 

 spring to stay there the summer. 



About two miles west of Doe Lake 

 was another smaller lake, the Rainy 

 Lake. Between these two lakes the 

 loons had two aerial routes; a north- 

 ern route, direct over my house, for 

 traveling westward to Rainy Lake 

 and a more southerly route for the 

 return passage. The northerly route 

 was very seldom, if ever, used for 

 eastward travel and vice versa. The 

 pair very seldom traveled together; 



one generally went first, making the 

 air fairly tremble with his far sound- 

 ing call to his mate, who as a rule, 

 followed a few minutes later. "Wah- 

 ho-o-o-o-o-o-o, wah-ho-o-o-o-o," was the 

 general trend of the note, while on 

 the wing, but, when swimming in the 

 water, their note sounded more like 

 a fierce, diabolical laugh. 



For six years I tried in vain to lo- 

 cate the nest of this Great Northern 

 Diver. The 24th of May was annually 

 spent at the Narrows of Doe Lake, 

 where I believed the nest to be, as 

 the birds spent more time around 

 there, than anywhere else. The shores 

 of these two lakes were very rough, 

 rocky and deep, which fact of course 

 was an advantage to the loons, but a 

 great drawback to the nest-hunter. 

 The loons generally had a good laugh, 

 and no doubt, at my expense, when 

 they finally saw me set sail on the 

 "White Wings" (my clipper sail boat), 

 and take a homeward tack across the 

 lake, sick and tired of the nes*- 

 hunter's job. 



Now (1914) I am living in northern 

 Manitoba, and as the luck would have 

 it, I am located once more between 

 two beautiful lakes. Once more have 

 I come in contact with the loons and 

 once more they are having their aerial 

 route, this time north and south, 

 some 200 feet above the roof of my 

 home. Early this spring a pair of 

 loons arrived and it seemed to me 

 that they were going to locate their 

 homestead near mine, on the north 

 shores of Birch Lake (the largest one 

 of these two lakes). 



But as the end of May drew nearer 

 and I had not been able to locate the 

 nest yet, though I had searched for 

 it several times and had taken in all 

 the observations that I thought of any 

 value, I commenced to think that pos- 

 sibly the nest is at the other end of 

 iheir daily routine. 



So on the 31st of May I started out 



