io THE FOWLER IN IRELAND. 



ocean, where a Duck, from its non-piscivorous 

 habits, would starve. 



The migration of fowl, and their knowledge of 

 locality, is more or less a puzzle. We all know 

 they take advantage of favourable winds and moon 

 to migrate. It is an accepted fact that they steer 

 their course entirely by instinct ; all else we have yet 

 to learn. Yet this gift at times seems wanting. In 

 thick weather they lose their position and cannot 

 regain it. When anchored in a fog, by night or day, 

 I have heard Geese and Duck calling all round, 

 flying to and fro, and not feeding as usual on the 

 exposed banks. Some say that at these times they 

 are fearful of treachery, and therefore uneasy. I 

 think not, and fancy their reckoning is completely 

 lost. I have noticed Geese in a fog pitch close to 

 houses which, at other times, they would not venture 

 within a mile of. This is especially the case on a 

 dark night, when wildfowl will fly over the midst of 

 populous cities, on the way to or from their haunts. 

 They then take a bee-line by instinct, and shape 

 their course over what on clear mornings and even- 

 ings they would not go near. I have heard Wigeon 

 and Geese calling vociferously as they passed above 

 the town of Galway, seemingly among the very 

 chimney pots, and also over other large cities that 

 chanced to lie between open water and their nightly 

 feeding grounds. On clear nights they carefully 

 avoid the abodes of men. 



On one occasion a fowler left his house near the 

 river Maigue, co. Limerick (a famous haunt for 

 Bean Geese), to steal on these birds in a fog. Though 

 in view of his windows from day to day in the wide 



