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.
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