264 FEATHERED GAME 
filling up as though they thought that the next 
station was to be Labrador, and no ‘‘five min- 
utes for refreshments’’ by the way. The ease 
and grace of their movements were a matter of 
great surprise to me, and it can never be truth- 
fully said that the Goose is either clumsy or 
stupid. But luck was against me; the tide was 
falling, food was abundant where they had‘ set- 
tled and they came no nearer. At last an 
alarming cry from the watchful bird on duty 
and again the flock took wing and flew away. I 
looked about for the cause of their departure 
and saw coming down the marsh half-a-mile 
off two gunners, whose movements had caused 
my feathered friends to leave thus uncere- 
moniously. So I had wasted a full hour in try- 
ing to get within distance—and yet perhaps not 
wasted, for to my mind no time should be con- 
sidered wasted when spent in the good company 
of the brave gray Goose. 
The general impression outside the circle of 
the shooting fraternity seems to be that the 
Goose is a big, clumsy bungler—a most thick- 
skulled, slow-witted bird, but no sportsman who 
is at all acquainted with him will ever pass such 
a judgment. Seen moving on the water in their 
