GEESE 265 



sionally come in the way of the wild-fowler, a little 

 adventure of mine in connection with the shooting of 

 bean geese on an East Yorkshire marsh may, perhaps, 

 be deemed sufficiently interesting and remarkable to 

 warrant my recording it. I was visiting the marsh in 

 the daytime, early in December, with a friend, a youth 

 of seventeen, whose love for sport was so keen that he 

 tramped through many heavy days and for scores of 

 long miles by my side, content merely to carry the 

 bag, and by looking on to gain some experience in the 

 field before using a gun. 



I had on this particular day taken the precaution to 

 put on a pair of wading-boots, as in that neighbourhood 

 one sometimes spent half the day, more or less, in the 

 ditches, when following plover or when duck-flighting. 

 I had got down into a deep ditch, whilst my companion, 

 Artie, went round some golden plover to drive them, 

 if possible, in my direction. I had net long to wait 

 before some of these birds came along, and I secured 

 a couple ; then came the first surprise of the day. 

 While following the departing plover with my eye, to 

 see if any more birds dropped, I was much startled to 

 see half-a-dozen grey geese coming along. They ap- 

 peared to have only just got on the wing, and it was 

 evident that the report of my gun had disturbed them, 

 although, apparently, they were unable to determine 

 whither the sound had come. After veering slightly 

 the geese passed on, and alighted in a clover field four 

 or five hundred yards away. By a long and arduous 

 stalk through water a foot or more deep, I managed to 

 get into a better position before my companion started 

 to get round in order to drive them. On being disturbed, 

 the geese offered only a very long shot, that is for a 



