The Wild Geese of Wyndygoul 
afternoon she left them half an hour. And round 
and round that island, night and day, the gander 
floated, cruised, and tacked about, like a war ship . 
on patrol. Never once did the gander cover the 
eggs, never once did the mother mount on guard. 
I tried to land and learn about the nest one day. 
The brooding goose it was that gave the danger call. 
A short quack, a long, sharp hiss, and before my boat 
could touch the shore the gander splashed between 
and faced me. Only over his dead body might 
my foot defile their islk-—so he was left in peace. 
The young ones came at length. The six shells 
broke and the six sweet golden downlings “‘peeped” 
inspiringly. Next day they quit the nest in orderly 
array. The mother first, the downlings closely 
bunched behind, and last the warrior sire. And 
this order they always kept, then and all other 
times that I have knowledge of. It gave me food 
for thought. The mother always leads, the father, 
born a fighter, follows—yes, obeys. And what a 
valiant guard he was; the Snapping Turtle, the 
Henhawk, the Blacksnake, the Coon, and the vagrant 
dog might take their toll of duckling brood or 
chicken yard, but there is no thing alive the gander 
will not face for his little ones, and there are few 
things near his bulk can face him. 
So the flock grew big and strong. Before three 
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