BIRDS OF MINNESOTA. 79 
cession to a large pond a few miles from the mouth 
of Green river in Kentucky, and whenever I visited the nest it 
seemed to look upon me with utter contempt. It would stand 
in a stately attitude until I reached within a few yards of the 
nest, when suddenly lowering its head, and shaking it as if it 
were dislocated from the neck, it would open its wings and 
launch into the air flying directly at me. So daring was this 
fine fellow, that in two instances he struck me a blow with one 
of his wings on the right arm, which for an instant I thought 
was broken. I observed that immediately after such an effort 
to defend his nest and mate, he would run swiftly towards 
them, pass his head and neck several times over and around 
the female, and again assume his attitude of defiance.” This 
description is no more graphic than true, as I have had personal 
opportunity to verify it. I regard this species as amongst the 
most interesting and remarkable of the bird kingdom. Senator 
R. B. Langdon resides across the street from my office, and 
has an enclosure in which he keeps deer, antelopes and a flock 
of wild geese, the habits of each and all of which I have had 
ample opportunity to observe in years of confinement. The 
deers (two are added by birth each year, the latter part of 
June) and the geese manifest a great interest in the many 
children who visit their park. If one of their number runs a 
race along the iron fence which incloses them, both the deers 
and geese will at once join in the race, the latter with 
wings at half extent, and gabbling and cackling so much like 
the rollicking children that it is difficult to decide ‘‘which is 
which.” If any of the ruder children turn and threaten to use 
sticks or clubs, the deers will gallop away, but the geese will 
instantly drop their heads, rustle their feathers, and rush up to 
the fence so resolutely as to send their persecutors flying, and 
does a bolder boy return, they will form a line of battle, and 
commence the ominous shaking of their heads, until one would 
suppose they would become unjointed. In such an attitude, 
with the suggestion of the bare possibility that they might 
possibly fly over the fence in their anger, even the boldest will 
consult the better part of valor and run away. 
To say in a report like this that myriads of this species 
have annually visited the State to either breed here or, after 
two or three weeks, pass further north to do so, may seem an 
exaggeration, but what more temperate language would more 
nearly convey a just idea of their numbers? Yet it must be 
conceded that in the southern half of the State, their numbers 
