GREAT NORTHERN DIVER. 287 



of foot. The space traversed was fully a hundred yards, and the water to 

 an equal distance was not more than ankle-deep. The bird and its pursuer 

 ran swiftly through the water, and just as both reached a sudden break about 

 four feet in depth, the Loon, which had been wounded elsewhere than in 

 the wing, expired and floated at the disposal of its enemy, who brought it on 

 board the Ripley; when I entered this anecdote in my journal. 



These birds are so very strong and hardy that some of the old ones remain 

 in Maine and Massachusetts until all the fresh waters are frozen, first leaving 

 the quiet lakes and ponds, then the slow streams, and lastly the turbulent 

 pools below waterfalls, which latter they do not quit until they are overhung 

 by icicles and deserted of fish. On the other hand, this species returns 

 northward at a later period than most others that breed in high latitudes. I 

 have witnessed the arrival of some on the coast of Labrador, after they had 

 crossed the Gulf of St. Lawrence, as late as the 20th of June, after which 

 they had scarcely four months to seek out a breeding place, lay their eggs, 

 hatch and rear their young, and with them remove southward, before the 

 rigour of winter commenced. 



The Great Northern Diver is a heavy-bodied bird, and generally swims 

 rather deep in the water, more especially if apprehensive of immediate 

 danger, when scarcely more than two inches in height of its back can be 

 seen above the surface. As its body is more flattened than that of the 

 Cormorant, this circumstance might seem to favour the action in question; 

 but other species less depressed exhibit the same peculiarity; and I have 

 thought that in all of these the internal structure alone can account for this 

 peculiar faculty. 



With the exception of that most expert of all Divers, the Anhinga, and 

 the Great Auk, the Loon is perhaps the most accomplished. Whether it be 

 fishing in deep water amid rolling billows, or engaged in eluding its foes, it 

 disappears beneath the surface so suddenly, remains so long in the water, 

 and rises at so extraordinary a distance, often in a direction quite the reverse 

 of that supposed to be followed by it, that your eyes become wearied in 

 searching for it, and you renounce the wish of procuring it out of sheer 

 vexation. At least, this has very frequently happened to me; nay, I have at 

 times abandoned the chase when the bird was so severely wounded as to be 

 obliged to dive immediately beside my boat, and had it not died of 

 exhaustion and floated near enough to be seized by me, I felt as if I could 

 not have pulled my oars any longer, and was willing to admit that I was 

 outdone by a Loon. 



In Labrador, where these birds were abundant, my son John one day shot 

 at one on wing, which fell upon the water to appearance quite dead, and 

 remained on its back motionless until we had leisurely rowed to it, when a 



