At the border of the Yukon Delta, Eskimos familiar with the 
country were employed to lead us to the desired nesting-ground of 
the emperor goose. Nearly half a day’s journey among the maze of 
ice-covered channels of the delta brought us to a low, flat island, 
where our guide assured me many nachau-thluk would soon arrive 
to rear their young. It was a bare, desolate spot, with only a few 
scattered alders on the upper side of the islands, and an unbroken 
view out over the frozen sea to the west. A tent was put up on a 
slight rise and, after a stock of drift-wood had been gathered, the 
guides took the sledge and left me with my Eskimo companion to 
await the arrival of the birds. Later, when the ice went out, they 
returned for me with kyaks. 
A few white-fronted and cackling geese gave noisy evidence of 
their presence, but it was not until May 22 that the Eskimo brought 
in the first emperor goose—a male in beautiful spring plumage. Af¬ 
ter this small flocks came in rapidly until they were plentiful all 
about us. They arrived quietly, skimming along near the ground 
quite unlike the other geese, which appeared high overhead with wild 
outbursts of clanging cries that were answered by those already on 
the ground. The river-channels and the sea were still covered with 
ice, and the tundra was half covered with snow, at the time of the 
first arrivals. 
At first, the emperor geese were difficult to approach, but as their 
numbers increased they became less shy. When on the wing they 
were easily distinguished from the other geese, even at considerable 
distances, by their proportionately shorter necks and heavier bodies, 
as well as by their short, rapid wing-strokes, resembling those of the 
black brant. Like the latter, they usually flew near the ground, 
rarely more than thirty yards high, and commonly so close to the 
ground that their wing-tips almost touched the surface on the down 
stroke. While flying from place to place, they give at short intervals 
a harrh, strident call of two syllables, like kla-ha, kla-ha, kla-ha, en¬ 
tirely different from the note of any other goose I have ever heard. 
A group of them on a sand-bar or mud-flat often utter lower, more 
cackling notes in a conversational tone, which may be raised to wel¬ 
come new arrivals. They are much less noisy than either the white- 
fronted or cackling geese, which often make the tundra resound with 
their excited cries. Occasionally I could cause a passing flock to 
leave its course and swing in close to my place of concealment by 
imitating their flight-notes. 
59 
