Watching the Brant Grow Big. 65 



twenty brant comes marching along 

 through the air, as orderly as soldiers. 

 I throw up a hand to attract their atten- 

 tion. They swerve. They wanted to 

 come to this bar in the first place, but 

 they have somewhere seen someone else 

 throw up a hand to them, and the old 

 ganders are suspicious. There are too 

 many eyes in that flock. Some of the 

 younger birds start toward the bar again 

 and the wary ones follow. Good judg- 

 ment does n't count among friends. On 

 they come with a great clamor, some ris- 

 ing, some settling, some hoarse, some 

 clear voiced, some curving their wings to 

 sail in, some fluttering and wavering and 

 giving cries of warning. The whole flock 

 huddles and separates, and huddles and 

 rises, and wheels to go away. Then they 

 turn and head for the decoys again, but 

 the old birds have mounted high enough 

 to peer over into my box and they cry 

 " Look ! Look ! " with such vigor that the 

 whole drove again whirls into a broadside 

 for final departure nearly twenty rods 

 away. The shot slaps and cracks against 



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