248 BIRDS 



of solitude, it shifts about from place to place discouraging 

 our acquaintance. By the time it reaches the United 

 States in autumn — ^for the majority nest farther north — 

 it has exchanged its rich, velvety black and white wedding 

 garment for a more dingy suit, in which the immature 

 specimens are also dressed. With strong, direct flight 

 small companies of loons may be seen high overhead mi- 

 grating southward to escape the ice that locks up their 

 food; or a solitary bird, some fine morning, may cause us to 

 look up to where a long-drawn, melancholy, uncanny 

 scream seems to rend the very clouds. But the loon has 

 also a soft and rather pleasing cry, to which Longfellow re- 

 ferred: 



. . . "The loon that laughs and flies 

 Down to those reflected skies." 



A mirror-like lake in the Adirondacks or White Moun- 

 tains is ever a loon's idea of paradise. 



Loons are remarkable divers and swimmers. The 

 cartridge of the modern breech-loader gives no warning of 

 a coming shot, as the old-fashioned flint-lock did; never- 

 theless, the loon, which is therefore literally quicker than a 

 flash at diving, disappears nine times out of ten before the 

 shot reaches the spot where the bird had been floating with 

 apparent unconcern only a second before. Hell-diver and 

 great northern diver are among its popular names. Cer- 

 tainly it appears to descend suddenly, when alarmed, to the 

 nethermost regions. A vigorous swimmer under water, it 

 will reappear far from where one might reasonably expect 

 to see it arise. As its flesh is dark, tough, and unpalatable, 

 the sportsman loses nothing of value except his temper. 

 Sometimes young loons are eaten in camps where better 



