THE WILD GOOSE 29o 



only been known to the sportsman of our islands for 

 some years Hawker asserts since the frost of 1830, 

 when a flock of eighty of them alighted on a field 

 near the village of Milford. 



The cry of the goose is frequently heard when we 

 cannot catch the least sight of the flock overhead ; 

 it seems to pass from one to another, like the bleat of 

 the sheep, or the bay of the hound in pursuit. It is 

 seldom heard when they alight. The bird is too well 

 known for any specification of its plumage or internal 

 conformation. 



Notwithstanding the royal authority in favour of 

 the brent variety of this unsavoury fowl, our palate 

 gives preference over all the race to the Wexford 

 species, called by the natives the " barnacle." This 

 bird frequents the coast of Ireland, from Bray Head 

 to Sligo Bay, in vast quantities. The country people 

 cook it by all conceivable and inconceivable con- 

 trivances, and it is eaten at breakfast at the houses 

 of the gentry done into a pate. After too much wine 

 overnight (which, from Bray Head to Sligo Bay, and 

 thence to Wexford again, is a consequence of course) 

 it is really a most delicious relish. This may seem a 

 quaint style of doing a natural history notice, but 

 allowance must be made for the subject. " Who 

 drives fat oxen," &c., the benevolent reader will apply 

 apropos of goose-ology. It is fit to say, however, that 

 in the affair of gastronomy, the wild goose is no 

 doubt a non-descript, belonging neither to the genus 

 " flesh, fish, or good red herring." The most amusing 



