100 GEESE 



May advances and one by one the ponds open, and the earth looks out 

 here and there from under its winter covering, the loud notes of the 

 various wild fowl are heard, becoming daily more numerous. Their 

 harsh and varied cries make sweet music to the ears of all who have just 

 passed the winter's silence and dull monotony, and in spite of the lower- 

 ing skies and occasional snow squalls everyone makes ready and is off 

 to the marshes. 



"The flocks come cleaving their way from afar, and as they draw 

 near their summer homes, raise a chorus of loud notes in a high-pitched 

 tone like the syllable "luk," rapidly repeated, and a reply rises upon 

 all sides, until the whole marsh reechoes with the din, and the newcomers 

 circle slowly up to the edge of a pond amid a perfect chorus raised by 

 the geese all about, as in congratulation. 



"Even upon first arrival many of the birds appear to me mated, as I 

 have frequently shot one from a flock and seen a single bird leave its 

 companions at once and come circling about, uttering loud call notes. If 

 the fallen bird is only wounded, its mate will almost invariably join it, 

 and frequently allow itself to be approached and shot without attempting 

 to escape. In some instances I have known a bird thus bereaved of its 

 partner to remain in the vicinity for two or three days, calling and cir- 

 cling about. Although many are mated, others are not, and the less for- 

 tunate males fight hard and long for possession of females .... They 

 would seize one another by the bill, and then turn and twist each other 

 about, their wings hanging loosely by their sides meanwhile. Suddenly 

 they would close up and each would belabour his rival with the bend of 

 the wing, until the sound could be heard two or three hundred yards. 

 The wing-strokes were always warded off by the other bird's wing, so 

 but little damage was done; but it usually ended in the weaker bird 

 breaking loose and running away. Just before the males seize each other 

 they usually utter a series of peculiar low growling or grunting notes." 



In Alaska, the last week of May finds many of these birds already 

 depositing their eggs. Upon the grassy borders of ponds, in the midst 

 of a bunch of grass, or on a small knoll they find a spot where they make 

 a slight depression and perhaps line it with a scanty layer of grasses, 

 after which the eggs are laid. The usual clutch is from 4 to 7 eggs, the 

 average size of which is 2.86 by 1.89 inches. The eggs are similar to 

 those of the Common Canada Goose. When they are about to hatch, or 

 the young are out, both parents frequently become perfectly reckless in 

 the face of danger. The downy young of this bird and those of the 

 Western Canada Goose are practically indistinguishable, but are quite 

 different from those of the other varieties of the same species. As an 

 example of parental solicitude, Turner (1881) relates that once during 

 a heavy fall of snow, which covered the ground to a depth of three feet, 

 the nesting birds did not leave their nests, and were later found in scores 

 by the natives, dead on their nests, having suffocated rather than desert 

 their homes. 



