JANADA GOOSE-SHOOTING, 297 
attention to the broken line of grass, and knowing 
there was an opening of some kind, drove toward it. 
All was silent as death, not a sound could be heard, ex- 
cept that made by ourselves. As we emerged from the 
tall grass, what a sight there was before us! Never did 
I see a sight so novel, so thoroughly impressive. I am 
a lover of Nature, and more than half the pleasure of 
the chase is afforded me by what I see and hear, when 
out in the solitude of the woods, floating on the rip- 
pling water, or feeling the cheerful wind as it gently 
plays around, thrilling through me when on the open 
prairie. There, right before us, stood an army. Yes, 
an army—not of men, but of geese. They were in com- 
plete possession of an old pasture, containing about 
eighty acres ; from whose surface the grass had been so 
closely cropped by herds of cattle that the grass 
struggled through the ground striving hard for an ex- 
istence. The pasture itself was level; as level as a 
floor, and here and there were congregated a vast mul- 
titude of geese, encamped like soldiers of some great 
commonwealth, calmly resting, passively recruiting 
their fatigued bodies, after some tiresome foraging ex- 
pedition. At one point, aside from the main flock a 
knot of five or six stood as if in consultation. These 
evidently were the generals and officers, planning some 
gigantic attack on the neighboring stubble or corn 
fields. Here and there sentinels paced leisurely along, 
the warning guards for the indolent tribe; then again 
we saw them in platoons, in corps, in companies, in reg- 
iments, all trying to catch their noon-day nap. They 
were scattered this way throughout the entire field. 
To make the scene still more realistic, the mass of gray 
and black was prominently relieved by miniature walls 
