s was unconquerable. Whenever I came in
sight of the nest-bog, with only the loon's neck and head visible,
standing up very straight and still in the grass, I would see her slip
from the nest, steal away through the green cover to a deep place, and
glide under water without leaving a ripple. Then, looking sharp over
the side into the clear water, I would get a glimpse of her, just a
gray streak with a string of silver bubbles, passing deep and swift
under my canoe. So she went through the opening, and appeared far out
in the lake, where she would swim back and forth, as if fishing, until
I went away. As I never disturbed her nest, and always paddled away
soon, she thought undoubtedly that she had fooled me, and that I knew
nothing about her or her nest.

Then I tried another plan. I lay down in my canoe, and had Simmo
paddle me up to the nest. While the loon was out on the lake, hidden
by the grassy shore, I went and sat on a bog, with a friendly alder
bending over me, within twenty feet of the nest, which was in plain
sight. Then Simmo paddled away, and Hukweem came back without the
slightest suspicion. As I had supposed, from the shape of the nest,
she did not sit on her two eggs; she sat on the bog instead, and
gathered them close to her side with her wing. That was all the
brooding they had, or needed; for within a week there were two bright
little loons to watch instead of the eggs.

After the first success I used to go alone and, while the mother bird
was out on the lake, would pull my canoe up in the grass, a hundred
yards or so below the nest. From here I entered the alders and made
my way to the bog, where I could watch Hukweem at my leisure. After a
long wait she would steal into the bay very shyly, and after much fear
and circumspection glide up to the canoe. It took a great deal of
looking and listening to convince her that it was harmless, and that I
was not hiding near in the grass. Once convinced, however, she would
come direct to the nest; and I had the satisfaction at last of
watching a loon at close quarters.

She would sit there for hours--never sleeping apparently, for her eye
was always bright--preening herself, turning her head slowly, so as to
watch on all sides, snapping now and then at an obtrusive fly, all in
utter unconsciousness that I was just behind her, watching every
movement. Then, when I had enough, I would steal away along a caribou
path, and push off quietly in my canoe without loo