fereut thing from the wild, free life of his free 

 wild relatives. In this he differs from the tur- 

 key—because he has more sense, and hence is 

 more adaptable ; and because his farm-yard life 

 reaches farther back into the far-away past. He 

 has had more time to forget and to learn. Mor- 

 ally he has resisted the degenerating influences 

 of his human associations most martelously. He 

 has not the wings of former days ; but this is 

 not his fault. Even a goose, by taking thought, 

 cannot turn pounds of his over-fed body into 

 inches of wing. 



The wild Canada geese, whose honking, as 

 they pass, still stirs vague longings in their fat 

 brothers of the farm-yard, and sets them honk- 

 ing in reply, will doubtless long outlast the 

 dwindling flocks of wild turkeys. Along with 

 the extreme dangers of migration, there seem to 

 go superior gifts of brain and wing and body 

 which more than compensate. The turkey 

 wanders a little on foot, but he is a serf, quite 

 fast to the soil. The goose is a migrant and 

 hence is free. 



In February the Canada geese are scattered 

 along the margins of our Southern waters, al- 

 [274] 



