Among the Water-Fowl 



England it is common, and now and then it breeds 

 as far south as Massachusetts. Sailing about in 

 Buzzards Bay early one July, I passed a Loon along 

 the Falmouth shore, that was swimming with a 

 halt-grown young one close beside her. She 

 seemed very fond ot it, and kept caressing it with 

 her bill with true maternal tenderness. Far was it 

 from my thought to disturb them, and our sloop 

 sped on. 



Of all the places where I have observed the 

 great Loon in its haunts, give me the Turtle 

 Mountains of North Dakota. On those frosty 

 nights of middle June, as we lay under our light 

 cotton tent, snuggled up in heavy blankets, often 

 when I was awake I could hear that wild, laughter- 

 like cry — " ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-a-a " — as the Loons fiew 

 over from one lake to another. Our camp was 

 near Gordon Lake, a fine body of water several 

 miles around, with stony shores and a border of 

 reeds. Out on its surface were always a number of 

 Loons, and over on the west side several seemed to 

 be patrolling parts of the shore. Walking entirely 

 around the lake, I vainly searched the whole 

 margin for nests. I had reason to believe that the 

 young were hatched, and, as there were no muskrat 

 houses or floating mounds that I could discover, it 

 is likely that the eggs were laid on the bare shore, 

 so that no nest was then in evidence. 



In one place I surmised that the young were 

 hidden among the reeds. There the parents gave 

 me a most interesting spectacle. The pair were 

 patrolling, rather anxiously, about a gunshot off 

 shore. Knowing of the curiosity of the Loon, I 



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