HONK, HONK, HONK! 99 



many of our parents have heard. But the honk of 

 the wild geese going over we should all hear, and 

 our children should hear ; for this flock of wild crea- 

 tures we have in our hands to preserve. 



The wild geese breed in the low, wet marshes of 

 the half-frozen North, where, for a thousand years 

 to come they will not interfere with the needs of 

 man. They pass over our northern and middle states 

 and spend the winter in the rivers, marshes, and 

 lagoons of the South, where, for another thousand 

 years to come, they can do little, if any, harm to 

 man, but rather good. 



But North and South, and all along their journey 

 back and forth, they are shot for sport and food. 

 For the wild geese cannot make this thousand-mile 

 flight without coming down to rest and eat; and 

 wherever that descent is made, there is pretty sure 

 to be a man with a gun on the watch. 



Here, close to my home, are 'four ponds; and 

 around the sides of each of them are "goose blinds" 

 screens made of cedar and pine boughs fixed into 

 the shore, behind which the gunners lie in wait. 

 More than that, out upon the surface of the pond 

 are geese swimming, but tied so that they cannot 

 escape geese that have been raised in captivity 

 and placed there to lure the flying wild flocks down. 

 Others, known as "flyers," are kept within the blind 

 to be let loose when a big flock is seen approaching 

 to fly out and mingle with them and decoy them 



