GOOSE SHOOTING. 275 



low, water, rendering their approach by night almost 

 impossible. The river is a succession of falls for several 

 miles. In the clefts of the rock, hollowed out by long 

 friction, lodge quantities of various berries, acorns and 

 rich nuts, floated from up-stream. There, too, is the 

 tender watercress abundant. This — the berries and 

 nuts — is the food of the wild goose. The river is a 

 quarter of a mile wide, unnavigable save for a light 

 flat-bottomed canoe, such as is generally used by fisher- 

 men and sportsmen in small streams. There is nothing 

 to disturb the serenity of the geese save the gun of the 

 sportsman. They are so little hunted that they disport 

 themselves in the gurgling waters or sit on the rocks, 

 not heeding persons or vehicles passing along the road 

 on the river's bank. Often they present an easy mark 

 for rifle-shot, which is almost sure to bring down one 

 or more, as they are huddled so close to each other. 

 One sturdy old gander stands sentry to the main flock. 

 With vigilant eyes, one foot updrawn in his feathers, 

 he gives notice of approaching danger by a loud honk- 

 honk. They take his advice promptly and leave for 

 another feeding place, generally in the falls, higher up 

 or lower down stream, depending entirely on the direc- 

 tion from which the danger comes. One great comfort 

 to the hunter is that their flights are very rarely over a 

 mile at the longest, and he can soon have another pop 

 at them. 



The romance of rising in the weird and misty light 

 of the morning, without any breakfast or hot punch, and 

 sneaking to the river's bank, is entirely left out in our 



