As I was paddling along the north shore one very calm October afternoon, for such days especially they settle on the lakes, like the milkweed down, a Loon, suddenly sailing out from the shore toward the middle a few rods in front of me, set up his wild laugh and betrayed himself. I pursued with a paddle and he dived, but when he came up I was nearer than before. He dived again, but I miscalculated the direction he would take, and we were fifty rods apart when he came to surface this time, for I had helped to widen the interval; and again he laughed long and loud, and with more reason than before. He maneuvered so cunningly that I could not get within half a dozen rods of him. Each time, when he came to the surface, turning his head this way and that, he coolly surveyed the water and the land, and apparently chose his course so that he might come up where there was the widest expanse of water and at the greatest distance from the boat. It was surprising how quickly he made up his mind and put his resolve into execution. He led me at once to the widest part of the pond, and could not be driven from it. While he was thinking one thing, I was endeavoring to divine his thought. It was a pretty game, played on the smooth surface of the pond, man against a Loon. Some times he would come up unexpectedly on the other side of me, having apparently passed directly under the boat.

So long-winded was he and so unweariable, that when he had swum farthest he would immediately plunge again, nevertheless; and then no wit could divine where in the deep pond he might be speeding his way like a fish, for he had time and ability to visit the bottom of the pond in its deepest part. It is said Loons have been caught in the New York lakes eighty feet beneath the surface, with hooks set for trout. I found that it was as well for me to rest on my oars and wait his reappearing; for again and again, when I was straining my eyes over the surface one way, I would be startled by his unearthly laugh behind me. He was indeed a silly Loon, I thought, for why, after displaying so much cunning did he betray himself the moment he came up by that loud laugh? Did not his white breast enough betray him? It was surprising to see how serenely he sailed off with unruffled breast when he came to the surface, doing all the work with his webbed feet beneath. His usual note was this demoniac laughter, yet somewhat like that of a water-fowl; but occasionally when he had balked me most successfully and he came up a long way off, he uttered a long-drawn, unearthly howl, probably more like that of a Wolf than any bird. This was his looning, perhaps the wildest sound that is ever heard here, making the woods ring far and wide. At length, having come up fifty rods off, he uttered one of those prolonged howls, as if calling on the Gods of Loons to aid him, and immediately there came a wind from the east, rippled the surface, and filled the whole air with misty rain. And so I left him disappearing far away on the tumultuous surface."