WILD GEESE. 257 
ing for a few moments they settled down again, if the 
enemy kept himself well concealed, and commenced 
feeding. If they descried him, however, they fled in the 
most precipitate manner, and did not stop until they 
placed many a mile between him and themselves. They 
also became suspicious of horses after that, and looked 
upon them as foes in disguise. It is wonderful what little 
attention a flock of wild geese sometimes pay to a man 
without a gun, but let him have one, and the moment 
the sentinel gander espies him he sounds an alarm imme- 
diately, and all seek safety in flight, after honking their 
displeasure at his presence. The adage, ‘‘Silly as a 
goose,” can have no reference to the wild species, for 
if there is a cautious, vigilant, keen-eyed, sharp-hearing 
bird, it is a wild goose. Awkward and doltish as it may 
look when waddling around on land, few of its order can 
compare with it in gracefulness as, with expanded wings, 
it sails in the air, or floats tranquilly on the body of some 
placid lake or glistening river. 
The most exciting system of shooting geese practised 
along the sea-coast is to sail down upon them when they 
are bedded on the water, or to pepper them from sink- 
boxes, which are buried to their edges on some point or bar 
which they cross when flying from one spot to another, or 
which they visit to preen themselves after their bath and 
dinner. Where the geese are numerous, some men make a 
living by shooting them for the market or by letting boats 
and decoys to sportsmen who wish to have a day’s wild- 
fowling. These men are generally ardent lovers of the 
pleasures of the gun, and know more about the habits of 
the Anserine than all the closet naturalists I ever met. 
They can tell each species as soon as they hear its cry, 
and translate into plain English every note of a wily 
gander or a piping gosling. ‘They usually keep what is 
called in local parlance a ‘‘mg”—that is, a number of 
wild geese which have been partially domesticated and 
