The Pacific Loon 



Range of G. a. pacifica. — Northern portions of North America. Breeds from 

 western Ungava and northwestern Greenland, Banks Land, and Point Barrow, south 

 to the Aleutians, Alaska Peninsula, central British Columbia, Great Slave Lake, and 

 central Keewatin. (Records from extreme western Alaska and the eastern Asiatic 

 coast probably pertain to G. a. viridigularis Dwight.) Winters south chiefly along 

 the Pacific Coast from British Columbia to Lower California. Casual in several of 

 the Central States and on Long Island. 



Distribution in California. — Common winter resident and migrant the entire 

 length of the coast and about the Santa Barbara Islands. Decrepit or non-breeding 

 birds occasionally seen in summer. Visits bays, harbors, estuaries, and, rarely, neigh- 

 boring fresh-water pools. 



Authorities. — Lawrence (Colymbus pacificus), in Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., 

 vol. ix., 1858, p. 889 (orig. desc. ; San Diego); Evermann, Auk, vol. iii., 1886, p. 88 

 (coast of Ventura Co., winter); Nelson, Rep. Nat. Hist. Coll. Alaska, 1887, p. 36 (desc; 

 nesting habits; eggs; young); Howell, Pac. Coast Avifauna, no. 12, 1917, p. 18 (s. Calif, 

 ids.); Bent, U. S. Nat. Mus., Bull. no. 107, 1919, p. 67, pi. (life hist.). 



HUMILIATING it unquestionably is to be obliged to confess a vir- 

 tual ignorance of such a sizable number upon our nearly finished program. 

 But the fact is that this bird, although common in winter throughout the 

 length of our coasts, is both so wary and so inconspicuous, not to say 

 uninteresting, that it seems to have made no particular impression on the 

 ornithological consciousness. Divers of this and the succeeding species 

 are especially abundant about the Santa Barbara Islands. They are dis- 

 turbed by every passing steamer, and are known chiefly to fishermen as 

 picturesque objects upon the horizon. It is considered a mark of ill-breed- 

 ing on the part of Pacific Divers to sit in the presence of an approaching 

 steamer — there might be ladies aboard. Hence, while the beauty-laden 

 boat is yet a great way off, the bird summons his forces, brings his feet as 

 near as possible to his nostrils, struggles manfully with his awkward fate, 

 and finally emerges from his watery bed, a polite, albeit very ungainly 

 creature. As the bird rises in air, the head and feet, which were last to 

 leave the water, gradually drift apart, the head is thrust forward, the feet 

 backward to the natural limit, the wings move through an exaggerated 

 arc, and the bird goes on his way rejoicing, a conscious Beau Brummel 

 of the seas. 



One occasion only, to the birdman's recollection, relieves the drab 

 impression left by the Pacific Loon. It was the 13th day of April, 1915, 

 and it was blowing — well — little guns, off the west end of Santa Cruz 

 Island (as usual!), when I spied a company of loons breasting the wind and 

 fishing in the outer surf, just clear of a bold sea-wall. They were very 

 wary, but by dint of a snake-like approach and a favoring screen of grass 

 upon the cliff crest, I beheld a truly magnificent sight, a squadron of some 

 200 of these loons, of whom more than half were in full spring plumage. 



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