GEESE 



aches and pains; after a week spent on waist- 

 deep sand bars, in damp marshes and draughty 

 fields, we were practically bedridden. 



Ocracoke, center of the goose-hunting in- 

 dustry, is a quaint New England village 

 pitched on the outer rim of Pamlico Sound, 

 and it hovers around a tiny circular lagoon. 

 The houses are scattered among wind-twisted 

 cedars or thickets of juniper and sedge, and 

 most of them possess two outstanding ad- 

 juncts a private graveyard and a decoy pen. 

 All male inhabitants above the age of nine are 

 experts on internal-combustion engines, for 

 motor boats are everywhere except in the back 

 yards. Of distinctive landmarks there are 

 four one lighthouse, one colored man, and 

 two Methodist churches. Ocracoke has tried 

 other negroes, but likes this one, and as for 

 religion, it will probably build another Metho- 

 dist church when prices get back to normal. 



Now, for the benefit of any reader genuinely 

 in quest of information, a word as to the kind 

 of hunting here in vogue and the methods 

 involved. First, understand that this stormy 

 Hatteras region is the Palm Beach of the 

 Canada goose and his little cousin the brant. 

 Ducks winter all along the Atlantic coast, but 



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