THE CANADA GOOSE 259 
with a vague unrest. He mopes and is silent; 
anon he stirs the whole flock with his noisy clat- 
ter, and soon with a cry like a trumpet call he 
spreads his brown wings for the north and the 
safety of its frozen marshes. Every goose 
within hearing joins him and away they go; by 
day and by night in a well nigh unending flight 
he leads his followers to those Arctic shores. 
When the wearied column comes down to rest 
on the water, tired enough and loth to fly, the 
gunner may ‘‘scull’’ them if he has skill in the 
handling of a ‘‘gunning float’’ and is blessed 
with a strong wrist. It is less tiresome to do 
your ‘‘sculling’’ by proxy, however; therefore, 
if you have some good-natured gunner friend, 
the possessor of a double ‘‘float,’’ it is good 
judgment to cultivate his acquaintance at this 
season of the year. The deep ones among our 
duck and goose shooters are very polite to all 
the steamboat skippers during the migratory 
flights of the geese, and a mysterious wink from 
one of these brass-buttoned people will catch 
the bay gunners’ attention quicker than a kick 
from another man. ‘‘We passed a big flock of 
geese down off the no’theast p’int of Clabbo’rd 
Island on the way up. Tom says to come down 
