CANADA GOOSE-SHOOTING. 291 
The flight begins about sundown, and they keep com- 
ing in until dark, and long after dark, but there is 
never any doubt of their coming, for they are as regu- 
lar in their coming and going as the day itself. 
On moonlight nights, they frequently delay their ar- 
rival till after the sun has set, and twilight disappeared, 
flying in in great, discordant, honking flocks. The air is 
alive with dim forms, shown sufficiently plain by the 
moon’s soft light, to afford fair aim to the shooter. 
The hoarse “ Ah--unk, Ah-unk,” of the Canadas ; 
the “ Ah—ul, Ah~-ul’”’ of the Hutchin’s geese, the shrill 
ery of the brant, the chattering of the snow-geese., 
all uttered at the same time, makes a babel of voices 
absolutely deafening. The snowy-white of the laugh- 
ing goose, the larger brant, the still larger Hutchin’s 
.goose, circle around the hunter, but he pays no atten- 
tion to them; for another kind he bides his time. 
“The rising moon has hid the stars 
Her level rays like golden bars 
Lie on the landscape green, 
With shadows brown between. 
And silver-white the river gleams 
As if Diana, in her dreams, 
Had dropped her silver bow.” 
Facing the moon he sees great phantom forms dim- 
ly by her light, and as these shadows pass before her 
bright face, he rises and_ hastily fires—the darkness, 
the smoke, prohibit his seeing anything. For an in- 
stant, blinded as he is by the streak of fire that leaps 
from his gun, he listens. Thump! Thump! he hears 
on the sand; then a swish on the water. He knows two 
have fallen on the ground, and a third in the water. 
He runs and hastily picks them off the sand-bar, but 
