birds tried to lure the
enemy off in some other direction by calling and shouting and making all
sorts of demonstrations.

Generally these tactics were successful, but not always. Once some boys
cornered the whole family in a small, shallow bay, where the water was
not deep enough for diving; and before they could escape one of the
youngsters was driven up onto the beach. He tried to hide behind a log,
but he was captured and earned off, and I wish I had time to tell you
of all the things that happened to him before he was finally killed and
eaten by a dog. It was pretty tough on the old birds, as well as on him,
but they still had one chick left, and you can't expect to raise _all_
your children as long as bigger people are so fond of kidnapping and
killing them.

Not all the people who came to see them were bent on mischief, however.
There was a party of girls and boys, for instance, who camped beside the
Glimmerglass for a few weeks, and who liked to follow them around the
lake in a row-boat and imitate their voices, just for the fun of making
them talk back. One girl in particular became so accomplished in the
loon language that Mahng would often get very much excited as he
conversed with her, and would sometimes let the boat creep nearer and
nearer until they were only a few rods apart. And then, all of a sudden,
he would duck his head and go under, perhaps in the very middle of a
laugh. The siren was getting a little too close. Her intentions might
possibly be all right, but it was just as well to be on the safe side.

The summer was nearly gone, and now Mahng did something which I fear you
will strongly disapprove. I didn't want to tell you about it, but I
suppose I must. Two or three male loons passed over the Glimmerglass
one afternoon, calling and shouting as they went, and he flew up and
joined them, and came back no more that summer. It looked like a clear
case of desertion, but we must remember that he had stood by his wife
all through the trying period of the spring and early summer, and that
the time was at hand when the one chick that was left would go out into
the world to paddle his own canoe, and when she would no longer need his
help in caring for a family of young children. But you think he might
have stayed with her, anyhow? Well, so do I; I'm sorry he didn't. They
say that his cousins, the Red-throated Loons, marry for life, and live
together from the wedding-day till death, and I don't see why