62 AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 



the river. Probabh^ he had ben injured, although if such was the case he 

 did not show it in his flight. Sometimes, when a goose is injured it will 

 leave the flock and travel alone. 



I shall not soon forget that first day the geese began to appear. It was a 

 dreary, drizzly day, towards the end of March. Hearing excited voices, I 

 went out to ascertain the cause and found a group of villagers all gazing 

 towards the southeast. I looked too, and made out, coming directly towards 

 us, a long V-shaped flock of geese. But even before I saw them, I heard 

 their loud, noisy "Ca-lac, ca-lac, ca-lac." 



On they came, nearer and nearer, seemingly oblivious of our presence, 

 passing over a hundred yards above us. 



Suddenly, four shots rang out in rapid succession, sharp, incisive, on the 

 damp air. Picture the snowy birds, in sharp relief against the leaden sky, 

 suddenly transformed from a perfect "V," into a confused jumble of moving, 

 flapping black and white. Only for a moment that was, however, then, like 

 soldiers tried and true, they rallied once again, and, 



"Ranged in figure, wedged the way," 

 on to the northwestward, out of sight and hearing. "Homeward bound." 



As I muttered the words and realized their significance, a feeling of pity 

 possessed me for the unfortunate comrade left behind. 



When the shots were heard, and the flock suddenly became confusion, a 

 bird was seen to drop behind and below the rest. Desperately he beat the air 

 in a vain attempt to regain the lost ground. Fate had willed otherwise, and 

 fate is inexorable. Down, down, he came, spirally, wildly beating the air 

 with one wing, the other was useless. 



Eventually, he landed in a garden, exhausted. The lucky gunner secured 

 him, and, only too prone to exhibit the result of his skill, held out for our 

 inspection, by its flesh colored feet in one hand, its rusty breast resting on 

 the palm of the other, as handsome a specimen of Chen hyperborea as I ever 

 saw. Passively, the bird rested on his hand, its slender, rusty-white neck 

 thrust forward, its head held low, its liquid black eyes appealing mutely. 

 One wing hung limp its full length, showing to advantage, the black pri- 

 maries, in deep contrast to the rest of the plumage. On the injured wing ap- 

 peared a crimson stain that grew larger and larger. 



A motley group had gathered around, as groups will, in a small village, 

 when anything out of the ordinary occurs. 



"That's a regler ol' Texas Goose; I seen lots of 'em in Texas," said a 

 voice. 



"Aw, that Goose never saw Texas; its a California Goose," said another. 



"Yes, a California Goose," wisely reiterated a third, and the bird's identity 

 thus being established to the apparent satisfaction of all, they dispersed, and 

 the incident was forgotten. 



