But whatever the meaning of Hukweem's crying, it seems to constitute a
large part of his existence. Indeed, it is as a cry that he is chiefly
known--the wild, unearthly cry of the wilderness night. His education
for this begins very early. Once I was exploring the grassy shores of
a wild lake when a mother loon appeared suddenly, out in the middle,
with a great splashing and crying. I paddled out to see what was the
matter. She withdrew with a great effort, apparently, as I approached,
still crying loudly and beating the water with her wings. "Oho," I
said, "you have a nest in there somewhere, and now you are trying to
get me away from it." This was the only time I have ever known a loon
to try that old mother bird's trick. Generally they slip off the nest
while the canoe is yet half a mile away, and swim under water a long
distance, and watch you silently from the other side of the lake.
I went back and hunted awhile for the nest among the bogs of a little
bay; then left the search to investigate a strange call that sounded
continuously farther up the shore.
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