236 BIRDS 



like two lines of dark dots describing the letter V. In 

 spite of their height, which never seems as great as it 

 actually is because of the goose's large size, one can dis- 

 tinctly hear the honk of the temporary captain — some 

 heavy veteran — answered in clearer, deeper tones, as the 

 birds pass above, by the rear guardsmen in the long array 

 that moves with impressive unison across the clouds. 

 Often the fanning of their wings is distinctly audible, too. 

 The migration of all birds can but excite wonder and stir 

 the imagination; but that of the wild goose embarked on a 

 pilgrimage of several thousand miles, made often at night, 

 but chiefly by broad daylight, attracts perhaps the most 

 attention. Sometimes the two diverging lines come to- 

 gether into one, and a serpent seems to crawl with snake- 

 like undulations across the sky; or, again, the flock in 

 Indian file shoots straight as an arrow. It is as a bird of 

 passage that one thinks of the goose, however well one 

 knows that it remains resident in many places at least a 

 part of the winter. 



A slow drift down a slope of a mile or more, on almost 

 motionless wings, brings them to the surface with majestic 

 grace, and flying low until the precise spot is reached where 

 they wish to rest, they settle on the water with a heavy 

 splash. Usually they stop flying near sunset to feed with 

 much noisy cackling on the eel-grass, sedges, roots of 

 aquatic plants or on the wheat, corn, and other grain that 

 has dropped among the stubble in the farmers' fields, for 

 they are strict vegetarians. 



Geese spend much more time on land than ducks do. 

 By studying the habits of the common barnyard goose we 

 learn many of the ways of its wild relations that nest too 

 far north to be watched. Canada geese that have been 



