58 NOTES ON NEW ENGLAND BIRDS 



suage their painful fears when they go over a town, as 

 a man moans to deaden a physical pain. The direction 

 of their flight each spring and autumn reminds us 

 inlanders how the coast trends. In the afternoon I met 

 Flood, who had just endeavored to draw my attention 

 to a flock of geese in the mizzling air, but encountering 

 me he lost sight of them, while I, at length, looking 

 that way, discerned them, though he could not. This 

 was the third flock to-day. Now if ever, then, we may 

 expect a change in the weather. 



Nov. 30, 1857. The air is full of geese. I saw five 

 flocks within an hour, about 10 A. M., containing from 

 thirty to fifty each, and afterward two more flocks, 

 making in all from two hundred and fifty to three 

 hundred at least, all flying southwest over Goose and 

 Walden Ponds. The former was apparently well named 

 Goose Pond. You first hear a faint honking from one 

 or two in the northeast and think there are but few 

 wandering there, but, looking up, see forty or fifty com- 

 ing on in a more or less broken harrow, wedging their 

 way southwest. I suspect they honk more, at any rate 

 they are more broken and alarmed, when passing over 

 a village, and are seen falling into their ranks again, 

 assuming the perfect harrow form. Hearing only one 

 or two honking, even for the seventh time, you think 

 there are but few till you see them. According to my 

 calculation a thousand or fifteen hundred may have gone 

 over Concord to-day. When they fly low and near, they 

 look very black against the sky. 



March 31, 1858. Just after sundown I see a large 

 flock of geese in a perfect harrow cleaving their way 



