the stroke be timed, rapidly exhausts ; the wings 

 must rest ; the flier must have food ; and await- 

 ing the descent is a line of enemies as long and 

 almost as continuous as the course. 



Fogs obscure the way; storms hinder, noises 

 confuse ; and often, most dangerous of all, across 

 the brittle, bracing air of the course blows a 

 thick, warm wind that sends the whole flock 

 reeling and sagging to the earth. Hundreds of 

 geese one day, overcome by a sudden wave of 

 heat, dropped upon a small pond back of my 

 home, and when the village turned out to the 

 slaughter, the poor things scattered about the 

 neighboring flelds, too weak and heavy to rise 

 higher than the tree-tops. 



There is not a single event in all the year of 

 the fields that I would not sooner forgo than the 

 sight and sound of the. flying geese. How it 

 takes hold of the imagination ! There is no 

 vivider passage in all of Audubon than his de- 

 scription of the flight : 



" As each successive night the hoar-frosts cover 

 the country, and the streams are closed over by 

 the ice, the family joins that in their neighbor- 

 hood, which is also joined by others. At length 

 [279] 



