May, 1922.1 



The Canadian Field-Naturalist 



83 



to the shore until opposite the waiting goose and 

 then came out to where she waited to receive 

 them and they all took to water again and paddled 

 off quietly and inconspicuously whilst the loud- 

 calling gander on the bare hill-side watched the 

 results of the ruse anxiously and continued his 

 conspicuous demonstrations to keep our attention 

 on him. The whole little comedy was admirably 

 worked out, obviously on the spur of the moment, 

 and I doubt if, given the same conditions, human 

 intelligence could have evolved a better ruse for 

 the safety of the little family. 



It was notable that, though several times after- 

 ward we cruised this part of the lake, and knew 

 that these geese families were still present, we 

 never had such an opportunity again. It is my 

 experience that birds learn much by one lesson. 

 Opportunities for successful photographing occur 

 unexpectedly with certain birds once only. If 

 they are not taken advantage of then, the chance 

 is unlikely to be repeated. Birds with a nest are 

 sometimes badly flustered when surprised, and 

 if one is prepared to take advantage of the 

 circumstance, good pictures may be obtained — 

 but one must work quickly and immediately. 

 The first swoops of the parent hawk are usually 

 the closest and most daring, and on a return visit 

 of the intruder more wary tactics are generally 

 pursued. At any rate all we saw of these geese 

 again was the stick-like line disappearing in the 

 reedy cover far in advance of us and doubtless the 

 first sound of our put-put in the distance was the 

 signal for them to forsake the open water and 

 make for cover. We had caught them in the 

 open once, but they did not permit us ^ do so 

 again. There on the lake where heretofore open 

 water was salvation against all danger, they had 

 learned at one lesson its futility against our speed 

 and power and had reorganized their whole system 

 of protection. 



A letter recently received from Mr. H. A. P. 

 Smith of Digby, Nova Scotia, contains so much 

 of interest in this connection, and an account of 

 some habits of the species that but rarely find their 

 way into our text books and life histories, that I 

 asked the writer's permission to publish it. The 

 following is but a slightly edited copy of his 

 account. 



"I certainly believe that the Canada Goose is 

 the wisest of game birds. For a number of years 

 I bred wild geese on a friend's farm at the head 

 of St. Mary's Bay. These were virtually wild. 

 They were allowed their liberty and flew about 

 over the big salt marshes as they liked during the 

 months of the close season for wild fowl. I 

 found that the birds did not mate until they were 



four years old. I took great pleasure with the 

 geese and used them for decoys. My regular 

 'shooting team' became very tame and I frmly 

 believe that they knew their names. 



"On one occasion when I was shooting geese at 

 Barrington Bay in January, I was surprised by a 

 large flock of geese coming to water. Canada 

 Geese must have fresh water at least once a day. 

 I was waiting near where a spring of water trickled 

 down from the rocky cliff where the geese came 

 at high tide at night for water. Several evenings 

 I waited here for the birds to come in with the 

 tide for water. It was very dark but I could hear 

 the big flock out in the bay some 150 yards out 

 having a great time. Occasionally they would 

 quiet for a few minutes and then again all honk 

 and talk together. Some two weeks afterwards 

 I was at the same place waiting in the moonlight, 

 and the geese were off shore again making the 

 usual fuss. Suddenly they quieted and I noticed 

 a bunch of birds which I took to be Black Ducks 

 swimming in to the water hole. They came, 

 drank, and disappeared again like shadows, 

 perfectly noiselessly. After they had disappeared 

 in the direction of the geese that had been talking 

 there was a great honking again. This was 

 repeated again very soon and I saw another bunch 

 of birds swim in and drink and all was quiet until 

 they had rejoined the flock when the usual racket 

 took place. I decided that if any more Black 

 Ducks swam in I would shoot at them. Presently 

 they came, silent as death except for the gurgling 

 of water and the rattle of pebbles as they drank. 

 I shot and killed five geese. 



"Now, the question was, why did the geese act 

 in this manner? I sat in camp and tried to reason 

 it out. At last I came to the conclusion that the 

 birds made the noise off shore to hide the others 

 coming in and to advertise the fact that they were 

 not near shore. When the incoming bunch drew 

 near the danger point, the others quieted so that 

 those near the drinking place could hear any 

 movement on shore and retire on evidence of 

 attack from the bushes. An enemy passing or 

 listening for them would think they were off in 

 the bay and out of range. No doubt more than 

 one gunner has listened to the geese and wished 

 that they would come in closer under similar 

 circumstances. A friend of mine says that if a 

 Black Duck had a neck as long as a goose's it 

 would be the hardest of our game birds to ap- 

 proach, but I incline to the belief that the Canada 

 Goose, in a district where it has been hunted, is 

 the wisest bird that flies." 



