CHAP. XIX.] WARINESS OF WILD GEESE. 157 
ing to approach these birds; either a careless step on a piece of 
gravel, or an eddy of wind, however light, or letting them per- 
ceive the smallest portion of my person, has rendered useless 
whole hours of manceuvring. When a flock of geese has fixed on 
a field of new-sown grain to feed on, before alighting they make 
numerous circling flights round and round it, and the least suspi- 
cious object prevents their pitching. Supposing that all is right, 
and they do alight, the whole flock for the space of a minute or 
two remains motionless, with erect head and neck reconnoitring 
the country round. They then, at a given signal from one of the 
largest birds, disperse into open order, and commence feeding in 
a tolerably regular line. They now appear to have made up 
their minds that all is safe, and are contented with leaving one 
sentry, who either stands on some elevated part of the field, or 
walks slowly with the rest—never, however, venturing to pick up 
a single grain of corn, his whole energies being employed in 
watching. The flock feeds across the field ; not waddling, like 
tame geese, but walking quickly, with a firm, active, light-infantry 
step. They seldom venture near any ditch or hedge that might 
conceal a foe. When the sentry thinks that he has performed a 
fair share of duty, he gives the nearest bird to him a sharp peck. 
I have seen him sometimes pull out a handful of feathers, if the 
first hint is not immediately attended to, at the same time uttering 
a querulous kind of cry. This bird then takes up the watch, 
with neck perfectly upright, and in due time makes some other 
bird relieve guard. On the least appearance of an enemy, the 
sentinel gives an alarm, and the whole flock invariably run up to 
him, and for a moment or two stand still in a crowd, and then 
take flight ; at first in a confused mass, but this is soon changed 
into a beautiful wedge-like rank, which they keep till about to 
alight again. Towards evening, I observe the geese coming from 
the interior, in numerous small flocks, to the bay; in calm 
weather, flying at a great height ; and their peculiar cry is heard 
some time before the birds are in sight. As soon as they are 
above the sands, where every object is plainly visible, and no 
enemy can well be concealed, flock after flock wheel rapidly 
downwards, and alight at the edge of the water, where they 
immediately begin splashing and washing themselves, keeping up 
an almost incessant clamour, In the morning they again take 
