CHAP, xix.] WARINESS OF WILD GEESE. 157 



ing to approach these birds ; either a careless step on a piece of 

 gravel, or an eddy of wind, however light, or letting them per- 

 ceive the smallest portion of my person, has rendered useless 

 whole hours of manoeuvring. When a flock of geese has fixed on 

 a field of new-sown grain to feed on, before alighting they make 

 numerous circling flights round and round it, and the least suspi- 

 cious object prevents their pitching. Supposing that all is right, 

 and they do alight, the whole flock for the space of a minute or 

 two remains motionless, with erect head and neck reconnoitring 

 the country round. They then, at a given signal from one of the 

 largest birds, disperse into open order, and commence feeding in 

 a tolerably regular line. They now appear to have made up 

 their minds that all is safe, and are contented with leaving one 

 sentry, who either stands on some elevated part of the field, or 

 walks slowly with the rest never, however, venturing to pick up 

 a tingle grain of corn, his whole energies being employed in 

 watching. The flock feeds across the field ; not waddling, like 

 tame geese, but walking quickly, with a firm, active, light-infantry 

 step. They seldom venture near any ditch or hedge that might 

 conceal a foe. When the sentry thinks that he lias performed a 

 fair share of duty, he gives the nearest bird to him a sharp peck. 

 I have seen him sometimes pull out a handful of feathers, if the 

 first hint is not immediately attended to, at the same time uttering 

 a querulous kind of cry. This bird then takes up the watch, 

 with neck perfectly upright, and in due time makes some other 

 bird relieve guard. On the least appearance of an enemy, the 

 sentinel gives an alarm, and the whole flock invariably run up to 

 him, and for a moment or two stand still in a crowd, and then 

 take flight ; at first in a confused ma^s, but this is soon changed 

 into a beautiful wedge-like rank, which they keep till about to 

 alight again. Towards evening, I observe the geese coming from 

 the interior, in numerous small flocks, to the bay ; in calm 

 weather, flying at a great height ; and their peculiar cry is heard 

 some time before the birds are in sight. As soon as they are 

 above the sands, where every object is plainly visible, and no 

 enemy can well be concealed, flock after flock wheel rapidly 

 downwards, and alight at the edge of the water, where they 

 immediately begin splashing and washing themselves, keeping up 

 an almost incessant clamour. In the morning they again take 



