280 WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 
In the North, in the extreme Northern States, their 
flight goes on, apparently never ending. The green 
verdure of the Southern States, the swollen streams and 
melting snow of the Middle States, the frozen earth of 
the Northern covered with a mantle of pure white, all 
are passed over, and still their unceasing flight continues. 
They are bound, some of them, for a place where, in 
the solitude of the frigid zone, amid icebergs, and among 
seals, walrus and their kind, they may spend months 
in a clime uninhabited, and where night is turned into 
constant day. 
They are easily domesticated, readily become ac- 
customed to civilization, and enjoy captivity. They 
are familiar to us all, and a constant source of delight 
to children, as they are seen picking the sprouting grass, 
preening themselves, or indolently swimming in artificial 
ponds, in perfect contentment. But when spring-time 
comes, their inherent love of flight and wandering re- 
turns to them, and uneasily looking at the fleeting 
clouds, and answering the loud calls of their compan- 
ions high in air, bound for the North, they have often 
been known to arise, leave their home of adoption and 
join their newly-found friends, and accompany them 
on their distant journey. An instance is given of 
a female departing in the spring and returning the next 
fall, bringing two of her brood, and alighting in the yard 
from whence she left. That it was the same goose 
there could be no question, from private and well-known 
marks ; besides, she assumed a familiarity with her sur- 
roundings that no strange goose could have manifested. 
They are a long-lived bird, and had they the power 
of speech, could relate many incidents within their per- 
sonal recollection, that would put to shame the stories 
