Those
that haunted our lake were so wary none was shot for years, though
every boy hunter in the neighborhood was ambitious to get one to prove
his skill. On one of our bitter cold New Year holidays I was surprised
to see a loon in the small open part of the lake at the mouth of the
inlet that was kept from freezing by the warm spring water. I knew
that it could not fly out of so small a place, for these heavy birds
have to beat the water for half a mile or so before they can get
fairly on the wing. Their narrow, finlike wings are very small as
compared with the weight of the body and are evidently made for flying
through water as well as through the air, and it is by means of their
swift flight through the water and the swiftness of the blow they
strike with their long, spear-like bills that they are able to capture
the fishes on which they feed. I ran down the meadow with the gun, got
into my boat, and pursued that poor winter-bound straggler. Of course
he dived again and again, but had to come up to breathe, and I at
length got a quick shot at his head and slightly wounded or stunned
him, caught him, and ran proudly back to the house with my prize.
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