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Common Loon
Gavia immer
[Published
in 1919: Smithsonian Institution United States National Museum
Bulletin 107: 47-60]
Among the picturesque lakes of the wilder, wooded portions of
the Northern States and Canada--where dark firs and spruces
mingled with graceful white birches, cast their reflections in the
still, clear waters--sportsmen and appreciative nature lovers have
found attractive summer resorts. Here, far from the cares of the
busy world, one finds true recreation in his pursuit of speckled
trout, real rest in his camp among the fragrant balsams, and
genuine joy in his communion with nature in her wildest solitudes.
The woodland lakes would be solitudes, indeed, did they lack the
finishing touch to make the picture complete, the tinge of
wildness which adds color to the scene, the weird and mournful cry
of the loon, as he calls to his mate or greets some new arrival.
Who has ever paddled a canoe, or cast a fly, or pitched a tent in
the north woods and has not stopped to listen to this wail of the
wilderness? And what would the wilderness be without it?
Spring.--Loons love solitude and
return each year to their chosen lake soon after the ice goes out
in the spring. This usually occurs late in April in Maine and
correspondingly later farther north. We saw them migrating in
large numbers along the south coast of Labrador between May 23 and
June 3, 1909; they were in loose detached flocks in which the
individuals were widely scattered. The spring flight on the
Massachusetts coast is prolonged through April and May, the
heaviest flight occurring about the middle of May. The migration
is mainly along the coast, a short distance off the shore, though
they fly across Cape Cod at its narrowest part, from Buzzards Bay
into Cape Cod Bay.
The loons are apparently paired when they arrive on their
breeding grounds and I believe they are usually mated for life.
They show strong attachment to their old home and return year
after year to the same spot to nest, even if they have been
repeatedly disturbed. Apparently they do not desert a locality
until one or both of the pair are killed. Loons are nowhere really
abundant, but they are evenly distributed over a wide breeding
range, are universally known, and are so conspicuous that they
seem to be commoner than they actually are. Nearly every suitable
lake within the breeding range of the species has its pair of
loons, or has had it, and many large lakes support two or more
pairs. The breeding range of this species is becoming more and
more restricted as the country becomes cleared and settled; the
loons are being gradually killed off or driven away. A pair of
loons nested in Quittacus Pond, Lakeville, Massachusetts, about 14
miles from my home, in 1872, but the eggs were taken and both
birds were shot; none have nested in this section of the State
since. The same story is true of many another New England lake
where the insatiable desire to kill has forever extirpated an
exceedingly interesting bird.
Nesting.--The description of three
nests which I have examined will serve to illustrate the ordinary
nesting habits of this loon. The first nest was found on June 16,
1899, near Brooksville, Maine; it was located in the water near
the marshy and reedy shores of a secluded little cove on a large
pond. The loon was incubating and we saw her slide of into the
water with a big splash, going directly under and swimming away
almost under our boat, the ripples on the surface and a row of
bubbles marking her course; when she reached the entrance to the
cove, about 15 yards past us, she came to the surface and flapped
along, rapidly disappearing around a point and leaving a foaming
wake behind her. The nest was a large circular mass of wet, soggy,
half-rotten reeds and other vegetable matter heaped up in the
shallow water near the edge of the growing reeds; it measured
about 2 feet in diameter, was only slightly hollowed in the
center, and was built up about 6 inches above the water. It
contained two nearly fresh eggs, which were lying parallel to each
other and about 2 inches apart.
The second nest, found on June 6, 1900, was on a little rocky
islet, only about 10 yards long, in Cathance Lake, Washington
County, Maine. The nest was only about 2 feet from the water, with
a well-worn pathway down which the bird could slide into the
water. It was well concealed under some alders, little maples, and
other underbrush, and was a wet mass of green mosses, mixed with a
few twigs, built on the rocks with one small rock left bare near
the middle of the nest. It measured about 25 inches in outside and
16 inches in inside diameter. The inner cavity was about 3 inches
deep and the outer rim was built up about 4 inches, so that the
moss was only about an inch thick in the center of the nest. The
two fresh eggs were lying in the center of the nest about an inch
apart. We did not see the loon leave the nest, but we saw the pair
swimming about in the lake and heard the weird cry.
The third nest was found on June 23, 1912, on the shore of a
heavily wooded island in Sandy Lake, Newfoundland. It was placed
just above an open sandy beach, among some small scattered
underbrush, 30 feet from the shore. The lake had been very much
higher a few weeks previously and probably, at the time the nest
was built, it was near the edge of the water. Another nest, in the
same general region, was similarly located, probably for the same
reason. The birds in both cases had worn a pathway to the water,
where the prints of their feet were plainly visible in the sand.
The nest was merely a slight hollow in the bare ground with a wide
rim of dry grass, bits of sticks and rubbish around it. This loon
did not leave the nest until I was within 50 feet of it; but she
made good speed, scrambling down to the lake, half running, half
flying, and flapping away over the surface until she reached water
deep enough for diving. The two eggs in the nest were heavily
incubated; one of them was nearly ready to hatch and the other was
addled, as is often the case.
Loons are reported by many observers as nesting on muskrat
houses. I have never seen such a nest, but suppose they must
select the old, abandoned houses or else build up piles of rubbish
themselves which look like muskrat houses. I believe that they
prefer to occupy the same nest every year and they probably add to
it a little each year.
Eggs.--This loon lays normally two
eggs, one of which is often infertile; sometimes only one egg is
laid and occasionally three are found in a nest. Audubon was quite
confident that three eggs was the usual number and many other
writers have referred to it. I have never found a set of three
eggs and believe that they are very rarely seen. The eggs vary but
little in shape from "elliptical ovate" to
"elongate ovate." The shell is thick, smoothly granular,
and has a dull luster. The ground color varies from dark to light
olive brown or from dark to light olive green with various
intermediate shades. They are rather sparingly marked with small
spots of "clove brown" or "bister," and
occasionally with lighter spots of drab; the markings are usually
much scattered. I have seen it stated in print that a set usually
contains one brown and one green egg, but I have not found it to
be so in the nests that I have examined.
The measurements of 41 eggs in various collections average 88.9
by 56.2 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure 96.5
by 61 and 82 by 52 millimeters.
Only one brood is raised in a season, but if the first set of
eggs is taken, another set is laid within three or four weeks;
sometimes even a third set is laid if the first two have been
disturbed, but this would not be likely to happen unless the first
set was laid very early. Mr. Ora W. Knight (1918) gives the period
of incubation as "very close to
29 days." The pair keep together during the incubating period
and probably both take part in it, though this is difficult to
determine, as the sexes look so much alike. Incubation is
practically continuous; the eggs are never allowed to become too
cool, though they will stand considerable chilling, and they are
never covered with rubbish. While incubating, the loon sits very
low and is spread out quite flat; she is not so conspicuous as her
striking colors would indicate.
Young.--Mr. C. William Beebe (1907)
made a study of two young loons, which were hatched from eggs
brought to the New York Zoological Park, from which he drew the
following conclusions:
It is probable that young loons are, from the first, fed on
whole, not on macerated or regurgitated fish. The actions of
swimming and preening are instinctive. The method of swimming is
usually by alternate strokes. These become simultaneous when a
sudden spurt or great speed is desired. The arc of the swimming
stroke, in the young chick, is much more lateral than in the adult
bird. Loon chicks can progress more easily and rapidly over the
ground than can the adults, in spite of the preceding conclusion.
Progression, however, is never by walking, but by frog-like leaps.
Diving, catching fish or swallowing them head first are almost
congenital instincts, much improved by practice within the first
week. There is no instinctive fear in these young birds. It is
probable that the young loons instinctively recognize the usual
rolling, laughter-like call of the parents, judging from their
reaction to the notes of the giant kingfisher.
Mr. F. A. Shaw, writing to me of the habits of loons at Sebago
Lake, Maine, says:
When the loon family is approached by boat, the parent bird
retires to a safe distance and by loud cries and by flapping the
wings on the water endeavors to draw attention from the little
ones to herself. If closely pursued the young, even in their downy
first plumage, will dive and swim under water for several feet. I
have seen them dive and swim under clear, calm water, and bright
bubbles would stand on their little backs. On returning to the
surface, they would shake themselves and their downy covering
would be perfectly dry.
Audubon (1840) says, of the food and development of the young:
The young of the loon are covered at birth with a kind of
black stiff down and in a day or two after are led to the water by
their mother. They swim and dive extremely well even at this early
stage of their existence, and after being fed by regurgitation for
about a fortnight, receive portions of fish, aquatic insects, and
small reptiles, until they are able to maintain themselves. During
this period, gray feathers appear among the down of the back and
belly, and the black quill feathers of the wings and tail
gradually elongate. They are generally very fat, and so clumsy as
to be easily caught on land, if their retreat to the water is cut
off. But should you miss your opportunity and the birds succeed in
gaining the liquid element, into which they drop like so many
terrapins, you will be astonished to see them as it were run over
the water with extreme celerity, leaving behind them a distinct
furrow. When the young are well able to fly, the mother entices
them to remove from the pond or lake on which they have been bred,
and leads them on the wing to the nearest part of the sea, after
which she leaves them to shift for themselves. Now and then, after
this period, the end of August or beginning of September, I have
still seen the young of a brood, two or three in number continuing
together until they were induced to travel southward, when they
generally set out singly.
Mr. Cecil Swale writes, in a letter to Mr. W. E. Saunders:
When a pair of young ones can fly, the parents appear to
call in another pair to celebrate and they certainly do it; for
several years we have noticed that on one particular day, and only
one that summer, six loons will be seen in the air at once making
a lot of noise; four of the birds seem equally strong and make
wide circles round the other two. It is generally August before
this happens.
August seems rather early for young loons to be flying, as they
are usually not strong on the wing until the middle or last of
September.
Plumages.--The young loon, when
first hatched is completely covered with soft, thick, short down;
the entire upper parts including the head, neck, chest, and sides
are dark colored, "fuscous black" on crown and back,
"fuscous" on throat and sides; only the central belly
portion is white, tinged laterally with grayish. I have not been
able to find any specimens showing the change from the downy stage
into their first winter plumage. The latter, however, is well
represented in collections and is well marked; it is chiefly
characterized by the well-rounded feathers of the back and
scapulars which are broadly edged with gray or whitish; the top of
the head, hind neck, and rump are blackish or sooty, grading off
gradually on the sides of the neck into the fine dusky mottling of
the throat; the chin, sometimes the throat and the under parts are
white. This plumage is worn for nearly a year without much
modification, the light edgings above bleaching out to white or
wearing away and the throat becoming whiter toward spring. The
bill is horn colored in the fall, becoming darker in the spring,
but never black. Probably there is an incomplete prenuptial molt.
The postnuptial molt is complete and produces early in the next
fall the second winter plumage, which is similar to the first
winter plumage except that the dark crown is more clearly defined,
the throat is pure white and the feathers of the back, which still
have broad light edgings, are less rounded and more nearly
square at their tips. This plumage is worn for only a short
time in some individuals which begin to show signs of molt into
the second nuptial plumage as early as November or December, by
the growth of a few of the jet-black feathers with white spots on
the back, wings, rump, and flanks; usually this molt is not much
in evidence until February; from that time on the prenuptial molt
advances to the head and neck and by April or May the second
nuptial plumage is completed. This is similar to the adult nuptial
plumage, but is duller, more dingy, and often incomplete, with
more or less white in the chin and throat. Specimens in this
plumage have been found to have the sexual organs somewhat
enlarged, indicating that the birds probably breed when about 2
years old. The bill is now black and never again becomes as light
colored as in young birds. At the next postnuptial molt of the
young bird becomes fully adult, when a little over 2 years old.
The adult winter plumage, assumed during the third fall, is
characterized by the black bill and by the square tipped
feathers of the back and scapulars, which have no light edgings
but have a faint suggestion, a ghost as it were, of a white spot
on the nuptial plumage in a shade of gray only slightly lighter
than the rest of the feather. This plumage is worn for only a
short time, as in the second year bird; specimens in this plumage
are very scarce in collections and it is difficult to find one
that is not either molting into it or out of it; the postnuptial
molt into it begins sometimes by the last of August, but
sometimes not until October; and the prenuptial molt out of it may
begin in November or later in the winter and may not be completed
until spring. Apparently some individuals, perhaps very old birds,
do not assume this winter plumage at all, for I have seen birds in
fully adult breeding plumage in September, October, and November.
Food.--This loon feeds largely on
fish, which it pursues beneath the surface with wonderful power
and speed. The sub aqueous rush of this formidable monster must
cause great consternation among the finny tribes. Even a party of
fish-hunting mergansers is promptly scattered before the onslaught
of such a powerful rival; they recognize his superior strength and
speed, as he plunges among them, and must stand aside until his
wants are satisfied. Even the lively trout, noted for its
quickness of movement cannot escape the loon and large numbers of
these desirable fish are destroyed to satisfy its hunger. Some
sportsmen have advocated placing a bounty on loons on this
account, but as both loon and trout have always flourished
together until the advent of sportsmen, it is hardly fair to blame
this bird, which is such an attractive feature in the wilds, for
the scarcity of the trout. We are too apt to condemn a bird for
what little damage it does in this way, without giving it credit
for the right to live.
Mr. Hersey's notes state that a loon killed at Chatham,
Massachusetts, in February had in its gullet 15 flounders
averaging about 4 inches in length, but several of which were 6
inches long; in addition to this hearty meal its stomach was
completely filled with a mass of partly digested fish.
Audubon (1840) says of its food habits:
Unlike the cormorant, the loon usually swallows its food
under the water, unless it happens to bring up a shellfish or a
crustaceous animal, which it munches for awhile before it swallows
it. Fishes of numerous kinds, aquatic insects, water lizards,
frogs, and leeches, have been found by me in its stomach, in which
there is generally much coarse gravel, and sometimes the roots of
fresh-water plants.
Dr. B. H. Warren (1890) says:
The stomach contents of seven loons, captured during the
winter months in Chester, Delaware, Clinton, and Lehigh Counties,
Pennsylvania, consisted entirely of fish bones and scales; two
other specimens, purchased in the winter of 1881 from a game
dealer in Philadelphia, were found to have fed on small seeds and
portions of plants, apparently roots.
A loon which was kept for a while at the New York Aquarium, in
a pool with skates and sculpins, was very aggressive, according to
Mr. C. H. Townsend (1908); although "supplied with an
abundance of live killifishes, its activity led it to strike
frequently at the large fishes and it succeeded in swallowing one
of the sculpins with a head larger than its own."
Dr. P. L. Hatch (1892) says:
Though fish and frogs are preferably their food, they do
nicely without them when supplied with aquatic vegetation. If
undisturbed by being fired at, they will visit the same localities
daily during the season for their food.
Mr. W. F. Ganong (1890) gives a full account of an instance
where a young loon attempted to eat a fresh-water clam, by
inserting its bill into the open shell of the mollusk, which was
about 2 inches long; the young loon found the clam too strong for
it and lost part of its bill in consequence.
Mr. Cecil Swale writes that the loons "catch their fish
across the bill and then with a quick toss bring the fish's head
into the throat, stretch the head and neck straight up and the
fish seems to work its own way down."
Behavior.--Dr. Bell says,
according to Mr. Thomas McIlwraith (1894):
The loon, in common with some other waterfowl, has a curious
habit, when its curiosity is excited by anything it does not
understand, of pointing its bill straight upward, and turning its
head rapidly round in every direction as if trying to solve the
mystery under consideration. Once when in my shooting skiff,
behind the rushes, drifting down the bay before a light wind, I
came upon a pair of these birds feeding about 20 yards apart. They
did not take much notice of what must have seemed to them a clump
of floating rushes, and being close enough to one of them I
thought to secure it, but the cap snapped. The birds hearing the
noise, and still seeing nothing living, rushed together, and got
their bills up, as described, for consultation.
These birds are said to spear the fish with the bill closed,
and to bring them to the surface so that they may turn them
endways for the purpose of swallowing. The gulls, hovering
overhead, and seeing what is going on down in the clear water,
watch for the moment the fish is raised to the surface, when they
swoop down and carry it off. When many hungry gulls are present,
this process is repeated till the patience of the loon is quite
exhausted.
The loon navigates the air as a high powered cruiser plows the
sea under forced draft. Perfection of design, with ample power
effectively applied, produce the desired result. The lines are
perfect; the strong neck and breast, terminating in the long sharp
bill, are outstretched to pierce the air like the keenest spear;
the heavy body, tapering fore and aft, glides through the air with
the least possible resistance; and the big feet, held close
together and straight out behind, form an effective rudder. The
power is applied by wings--which seem too small--driven at high
speed by large and powerful muscles. Its weight gives it stability
and great momentum. It cannot rise off the land at all and before
it can rise from the water it must patter along the surface, half
running and half flying, beating the water with both feet and
wings, for a long distance; even then it experiences considerable
difficulty unless facing a strong wind. But when once under way
its flight is strong, direct, rapid, and long sustained. While
coot shooting off the cost we used to estimate the speed of a
passing loon by noting the time required to fly from our line of
boats a known distance to the next line of boats, where a puff of
smoke would announce its arrival; we were convinced that, under
favorable circumstances, the loon often attains a speed of 60
miles an hour. Its momentum is so great that when shot, high up in
the air, it will strike the water in falling at a surprisingly
long distance, plowing up the surface or bounding along over it. I
have been told of serious damage being done to a gunner's dory
where one of these heavy birds had fallen into it. A 15-pound bird
flying at the rate of a mile a minute might be expected to cause
some trouble under the circumstances. The flight of a loon is
decidedly distinctive; such a rakish craft, long and pointed at
both ends, could not be mistaken for anything else. The great
northern diver can be distinguished from the red-throated loon by
its heavier build, and, if near enough, the adult bird can be
recognized by its black head and neck.
I have never seen a loon fly, except when alighting, with
anything but perfectly steady and rapid wing beats, but the Hon.
R. Magoon Barnes (1897) relates an experience which is an
exception to this rule. On the Illinois River, during the spring
migration, he saw a loon "making great circles in the air,
flapping its wings and then sailing." It circled round and
round and round, very much after the fashion of a bald eagle;
rising spirally higher and higher, continuing the flapping of its
wings, and the sailing movements until it reached a great
altitude. Finally after it had raised in the air until it appeared
but little larger than a blackbird, it straightened out its wings,
and pointing its long neck toward the North Pole sailed with great
rapidity." With wings set "it seemed to coast or slide
down hill, as it were, toward the north." He watched the bird
as far as he could trace it, but "could see no movement of
the wings," though it "seemed to be traveling at a
tremendous rate."
A loon requires nearly as much space to alight in the water as
to rise from it, and creates quite as much commotion at the finish
of its flight as at the beginning; its small wings are unable to
check the momentum of its heavy body; it circles lower and lower
until it can stand the shock of sliding into the water, striking
it with a tremendous splash, plowing a long furrow and sending the
spray flying. It is not a graceful performance, but it is full of
force and power.
The loon is a rapid swimmer and a wonderful diver. It is much
more at home in the water than elsewhere. Its plunge beneath the
surface is exceedingly quick and graceful, causing little
disturbance; with wings closely folded, it is propelled by its
powerful paddles alone, which usually work alternately, driving it
at a high speed. The loon can swim for a long distance under water
and always prefers to escape in this way. While endeavoring to
escape in this way it often swims with only its bill protruding,
which is nearly invisible and after a brief breathing spell it is
fortified for another long swim below the surface. When wishing to
indulge in an unusual burst of speed, it uses both wings and feet
with marvelous effect, but ordinarily I believe that the wings are
not used. It is certainly capable of catching fish without making
this extra effort. Its diving ability in dodging at the flash of a
gun is well known. I once saw a remarkable exhibition of this
power by a loon which was surrounded by gunners in a small cove on
the Taunton River. There were six or eight men, armed with breech
loading guns on both sides of the cove and on a railroad bridge
across it, all within short range. I should not dare to say for
how long a time the loon succeeded in dodging their well-directed
shots, or how many cartridges were wasted before the poor bird
succumbed from sheer exhaustion; but it was an almost incredible
record.
The behavior of loons under certain circumstances shows
peculiar traits of character; playfulness and curiosity are both
highly developed. Rev. M. B. Townsend contributes the following
sketch of their sunrise greeting:
A beautiful sight was that of three loons facing the rising
sun, standing almost erect on the water, their great wings
vigorously flapping, the sun shining full upon their pure white
breasts. It seemed almost like an act of religious devotion in
honor of old Phoebus.
Dr. P. L. Hatch (1892) relates the following account of another
early morning performance:
It has been my privilege to witness some scenes of their
matutinal jollifications, which have always occurred at the
earliest dawn, and have terminated with the advent of the sun. The
night is spent in proximity to each other on the water, somewhat
removed from the land. And in the earliest morning, notes of the
parent male soon call out a response from the other members of the
family, when they all draw near, and after cavorting around each
other after the manner of graceful skaters for a brief time, they
fall into line, side by side, and lifting their wings
simultaneously, they start off in a foot race on the water like a
line of school children, running with incredible speed a full
quarter of a mile without lowering their wings or pausing an
instant, wheel around in a short circle (in which some of them get
a little behind) and retrace their course to the place of
starting. This race, after but a moment's pause, is repeated over
and over again, with unabated zest, until by some undiscoverable
signal it ceases as suddenly as it began. Its termination is
characterized by a subsequent general congratulation manifested by
the medley of loon notes. This walking, or rather running, upon
the face of the quiet lake waters is a marvel of pedal
performance, so swiftly do the thin, sharp, legs move in the race,
the wings being continuously held at about half extent. Soon after
this is over, the male parent takes to wing to seek his food in
some distant part of the same or some other lake, which is soon
followed by the departure of the female in another direction,
while the young swim away in various directions to seek their
supplies nearer the place of nightly rendezvous.
Curiosity has cost many a loon his life, for it is an easy
matter to toll one within gunshot range by remaining hidden, and
waving some suspicious object. The loon cannot resist the impulse
to investigate, unless it is an old bird which has learned by
experience. A man partially concealed in grass or underbrush near
the shore of a lake will sometimes serve to arouse the curiosity
of some old loon who will call up a number of his companions to
talk it over. They will then swim around in circles, gradually
working in nearer. A sudden movement will cause them to dive like
a flash or go scudding away; but they will swim up again,
alternately advancing or retreating, until a shot from the man
satisfies their curiosity.
I must let some abler pen than mine
describe the vocal performances of this species, for it has a
wonderful variety of notes, each of which probably has its special
significance, and I feel wholly unable to do justice to the
subject. Mr. Francis H. Allen writes to me:
The commonest notes, which are heard both by day and by
night, are a weird maniacal laughter and a prolonged yodeling note
which is much higher pitched in the middle than at the beginning
or the end. This latter note is very loud and can be heard at a
great distance.
Mr. William Lyman Underwood, who is an expert in imitating the
notes of this loon, says that he recognizes four distinct calls:
first, a short, cooing note, often heard when there are several
loons together; second, a long drawn-out note, known among the
guides as the night call; third, the laughing call, which is
familiar to everybody who has ever been in a loon country; and
fourth, another call which is not often heard, known among the
guides as the storm call. This last is a very peculiar and weird
performance which the guides regard as a sure sign of a coming
storm. The notes of the loon can be closely imitated by the human
voice, after a little practice--so closely that loons can be made
to answer or can be called up; but the notes can be almost exactly
reproduced on a little musical instrument known as an ocarina, or
more commonly as a "sweet potato." Mr. Underwood says
that these instruments are made in different keys and that the
proper one for the loon call is D 5 1/2.
Mr. E. Howard Eaton (1910) gives the following good description
of two of the loon's commonest notes:
The scream of the loon, uttered at evening, or on the
approach of a storm, has to my ear, an unearthly and mournful tone
resembling somewhat the distant howl of a wolf. It is a
penetrating note, loud and weird, delivered with a prolonged
rising inflection, dropping at the end, resembling the syllables
"A-ooo-OO," or as is often written "O-O-ooh."
Its laughter, however, is of a more pleasing quality, like the
syllables "hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo," uttered in a
peculiarly vibrating tremolo.
This loon also has a peculiar warning cry as a signal of danger
to its young, which they promptly obey, also a different warning
cry to its incubating mate.
Fall.--On the fall migration the
young birds precede the adults by about three weeks, and they go
much farther south. The principal flight is along the coast, where
they are, at times, very common, flying with the scoters and
generally crossing headlands or long capes. They usually fly high
in the air, singly, or in small groups widely scattered, but I
have often seen a large number in sight at one time. While
anchored off the coast coot shooting on foggy mornings in October,
I have listened with interest to the laughing calls of migrating
loons, which were probably keeping touch with each other and with
the coast line by this method of signaling in the fog. Sometimes
they stop to rest and congregate in large numbers in the water,
several miles off shore, in what we call "conventions,"
where we could hear, on a still morning, a constant murmur of
their voices in soft conversational tones. It is a constant
temptation to all gunners to shoot at passing loons, for they are
swift, strong fliers and are very hard to stop; it is particularly
exciting on a foggy morning when so many are heard and only an
occasional fleeting glimpse is seen. There is no good excuse,
however, for shooting them, as they are practically never used for
food. They are exceedingly hard to kill, and it is well-nigh
useless to chase a wounded loon. On the coast of Labrador loons
are shot for food, and I can testify from experience that they are
not bad eating, though I should not consider them to be in the
game-bird class.
Winter.--Loons spend the winter on
inland lakes and streams to some extent throughout their winter
range, which extends as far north as they can find plenty of open
water. As they require a large open space in which to rise from
the water they are sometimes caught by the freezing of ponds,
where they are either shot or starve to death. By far the greater
number of them spend the winter on the seacoast, where they are
usually seen singly or in small parties, but occasionally in large
gatherings, which can hardly be called flocks, numbering from 40
to 100 birds, sometimes far out at sea. They are common on the
coast of New England, swimming just outside the breakers off our
beaches, where they are always conspicuous, standing up at full
height to flap their wings or rolling over on their sides to preen
their plumage, their white breasts glistening in the sunlight, as
they swim around in a circle with one foot up in the air. In
stormy or foggy weather they are often noisy. I believe that they
usually sleep on the water, but when it is safe to do so they
often come ashore to sleep. I have several times surprised one
well up on a sandy beach, where it had been spending the night or
had gone ashore to dry and sand its plumage. Its attempts to
regain the water were more precipitous than graceful, as it
scrambled or stumbled down the beach, falling on its breast at
every few yards, darting its head and neck about, humping its back
and straining every muscle to make speed, at which it was
surprisingly successful.
Common Loon*
Gavia immer
*Original Source: Bent,
Arthur Cleveland. 1919. Smithsonian Institution United
States National Museum Bulletin 107: 47-60. United States
Government Printing Office
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