STALKING WILD GEESE. 123 



When I have concealed myself in one of my hiding-places 

 in a newly-sown field of oats or peas, the geese, after keeping 

 me perhaps a long time waiting, may arrive at last ; and 

 alighting on the field, may commence feeding without any 

 suspicion of danger till they come nearly within shot. But 

 although concealed from the geese, I may be visible in a 

 different direction, when a couple of villainous large black- 

 backed gulls as happened to-day came by, and seeing me 

 lying in wait in a suspicious manner, immediately commenced 

 screaming and wheeling over my head. The geese, who are 

 all dispersed in the field, no sooner hear the gulk than they 

 run rapidly together away from me, for they know by the 

 direction in which the gulls are looking where the danger is ; 

 they then rise and betake themselves straight to the sea, 

 leaving me without the chance of a shot, after all the trouble 

 I have had in preparing an ambuscade. 



One day this month, too, after endeavouring for some time 

 to approach unseen some white-fronted geese, one of which I 

 was very anxious to procure for a friend, I saw the birds go 

 to a pool where I knew I could get within shot of them 

 without the least trouble. So making a considerable circuit, 

 I arrived at a part of the ground from which my approaching 

 the geese was perfectly easy. But just then some peewits 

 saw me as I was advancing in a crouching attitude up to the 

 birds. Had I been walking upright, these peewits would not 

 have taken any notice of me ; but the moment that they saw 

 me stooping to conceal myself, they attacked me with 

 screams and cries of alarm sufficient to warn all the country. 

 The geese of course took wing, and left me to return as I 

 came. 



To stalk a flock of wild geese when feeding is as difficult, 

 if not more so, as to stalk a stag. Erom the nature of the 

 ground which they feed on, and their unwearied vigilance, 

 unless you have concealed yourself beforehand within reach 

 of their feeding-place, it is nearly impossible to approach 

 them. Even if some half-dry ditch or drain passes through 

 the field, and is of sufficient depth to hide the sportsman, 

 supposing he has strength enough of back and of resolution 

 to walk in a stooping position up to his knees in cold water 

 for some hundreds of yards, still the birds are most unwilling 

 to approach any such line of 'ditch, or indeed any other place 

 which can possibly conceal an enemy. 



One of my boys, however, succeeded in getting at this same 



