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WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 



In the North, in the extreme Northern States, their 

 flight goes 011, apparently never ending. The green 

 verdure of the Southern States, the swollen streams and 

 melting snow of the Middle States, the frozen earth of 

 the Northern covered with a mantle of pure white, all 

 are passed over, and still their unceasing flight continues. 

 They are bound, some of them, for a place where, in 

 the solitude of the frigid zone, amid icebergs, and among 

 seals, walrus and their kind, they may spend months 

 in a clime uninhabited, and where night is turned into 

 constant day. 



They are easily domesticated, readily become ac- 

 customed to civilization, and enjoy captivity. They 

 are familiar to us all, and a constant source of delight 

 to children, as they are seen picking the sprouting grass* 

 preening themselves, or indolently swimming in artificial 

 ponds, in perfect contentment. But when spring-time 

 comes, their inherent love of flight and wandering re- 

 turns to them, and uneasily looking at the fleeting 

 clouds, and answering the loud calls of their compan- 

 ions high in air, bound for the North, they have often 

 been known to arise, leave their home of adoption and 

 join their newly-found friends, and accompany them 

 on their distant journey. An instance is given of 

 a female departing in the spring and returning the next 

 fall, bringing two of her brood, and alighting in the yard 

 from whence she left. That it was the same goose 

 there could be no question, from private and well-known 

 marks ; besides, she assumed a familiarity with her sur- 

 roundings that no strange goose could have manifested. 



They are a long-lived bird, and had they the power 

 of speech, could relate many incidents within their per- 

 sonal recollection, that would put to shame the stories; 



