110 THE WILD-FOWLER. 



the different modulations of the voices of those birds, whether they 

 are actuated by fear or hope ; and the fowler regulates his movements 

 accordingly, creeping- stealthily over the rocks, and gradually draw- 

 ing- nearer towards them, whilst no alarm-note is given. And it 

 would appear, that the success of the fowler depends very much upon 

 his familiarity with their notes. When free from all suspicion, and 

 unconscious of danger, the note of the solan goose is " Grog ! grog!" 

 and so long as the fowler hears no other note, he is assm^ed the birds 

 are not suspecting him ; but if he hears their watch-word — " Birr ! 

 birr ! " — he instantly desists, and remains as quiet and motionless as 

 possible 5 because he knows it is the warning-note of the sentinel, 

 which, in that one sound, informs all its companions of the suspected 

 approach of an enemy. Generally, after lying still a few minutes, 

 the words of assurance, " Grog ! grog ! " are repeated; and then the 

 fowler resumes his movements.* 



The warning given by a sentry wild-fowl, of whatever species, 

 seems to strike through every ear of the assemblage with electrical 

 precision, and this though numbering many hundreds; in an instant 

 heads are up, ears searching, eyes piercing, and all from the 

 effects of the sentry's single note ; then, if the suspicions are con- 

 firmed by ftu-ther noise or movement of the enemy, the whole flight 

 simultaneously takes wing ; and the bungling fowler's chance is 

 gone. 



An experienced decoyer can always tell, by the talk of his fowl, 

 when they are thinking of leaving the pond for an excursion out to 

 sea, or to feed on the savannas. Just before twihght, the debate is 

 opened by wild-ducks, the clamour of the female being loudest and 

 most incessant; this is continued some' ten or twenty minutes, as 

 if they were arranging a rendezvous at some distant fen ; and when 

 all is decided, they quietly leave the decoy, in small and separate 

 teams of from ten to twenty or more, according to the extent of their 

 numbers. 



The decoyman also knows, by the talk of his tame ducks, when 

 any fresh arrivals have alighted on the water. From being con- 

 stantly the unobserved inspector of their privacy, he is familiar with 

 many of their notes, and needs no second hint to tell him when the 

 moor-buzzard, their deadly foe, is hovering about the decoy. 



So the punter must become acquainted with the language of wild- 



* Vide History of St. Kilda ; by Rev. Kenneth Macauley. 



