One of the strong and original strokes of Nature was when she made the
loon. It is always refreshing to contemplate a creature so positive and
characteristic. He is the great diver and flyer under water. The loon
is the genius loci of the wild northern lakes, as solitary as they are.
Some birds represent the majesty of nature, like the eagles; others its
ferocity, like the hawks; others its cunning, like the crow; others
its sweetness and melody, like the song-birds. The loon represents
its wildness and solitariness. It is cousin to the beaver. It has the
feathers of a bird and the fur of an animal, and the heart of both. It
is as quick and cunning as it is bold and resolute. It dives with such
marvelous quickness that the shot of the gunner get there just in time
"to cut across a circle of descending tail feathers and a couple of
little jets of water flung upward by the web feet of the loon." When
disabled so that it can neither dive nor fly, it is said to face its
foe, look him in the face with its clear, piercing eye, and fight
resolutely till death. The gunners say there is something in its
wailing, piteous cry, when dying, almost human in its agony. The loon
is, in the strictest sense, an aquatic fowl. It can barely walk upon the
land, and one species at least cannot take flight from the shore. But in
the water its feet are more than feet, and its wings more than wings. It
plunges into this denser air and flies with incredible speed. Its head
and beak form a sharp point to its tapering neck. Its wings are far in
front and its legs equally far in the rear, and its course through the
crystal depths is like the speed of an arrow. In the northern lakes it
has been taken forty feet under water upon hooks baited for the great
lake trout. I had never seen one till last fall, when one appeared on
the river in front of my house. I knew instantly it was the loon. Who
could not tell a loon a half mile or more away, though he had never seen
one before? The river was like glass, and every movement of the bird as
it sported about broke the surface into ripples, that revealed it far
and wide. Presently a boat shot out from shore, and went ripping up
the surface toward the loon. The creature at once seemed to divine the
intentions of the boatman, and sidled off obliquely, keeping a sharp
lookout as if to make sure it was pursued. A steamer came down and
passed between them, and when the way was again clear, the loon was
still swimming on the surface. Presently it disappeared under the
water, and the boatman pulled sharp and hard. In a few moments the bird
reappeared some rods farther on, as if to make an observation. Seeing it
was being pursued, and no mistake, it dived quickly, and, when it came
up again, had gone many times as far as the boat had in the same space
of time. Then it dived again, and distanced its pursuer so easily that
he gave over the chase and rested upon his oars. But the bird made a
final plunge, and, when it emerged upon the surface again, it was over
a mile away. Its course must have been, and doubtless was, an actual
flight under water, and half as fast as the crow flies in the air.
The loon would have delighted the old poets. Its wild, demoniac laughter
awakens the echoes on the solitary lakes, and its ferity and hardiness
are kindred to those robust spirits.