THE CALL OF THE GEESE 
BY G. MURRAY SHEPPARD 
‘When the corn’s in the shock, and the stubbles are bare, 
And Old Jack Frost is afloat in the air ; 
When Fall’s sober tints tell us Winter is nigh, 
And dull leaden clouds overshadow the sky ; 
While the roaring breeze rolls the dust along 
And thro’ the trees sings its old, old song— 
Then, listen—for sure as there’s a day and there’s night— 
Tis time for use wild goose’s southerly flight !”’ 
F ALL the feathered 
creatures chronicled as 
“came”? the “pursurt, 
or, rather, the capture, 
in a legitimate and 
sportsmanlike man- 
ner, of the wild goose 
is to any one who has 
i been=s--there.  <ie 
most alluring, the most 
go exciting, the most 
lvvaz— | thrilling. 
Z Possibly immediate 
#— contact with a grizzly 
might stir one’s heart to more violent action, 
though I doubt it ; yet, taking into con- 
sideration the difference in the danger there 
can be no comparison. You may laugh at 
this statement, ‘“‘difference in danger,” but 
don’t you forget that, if you find a goose, 
and you kill him, and the wind and-the 
goose are in exactly the right place, while 
- you are diametrically in the wrong, and 
don’t quickly get out of the way, you will 
discover that the initial velocity, com- 
bined with the attraction of gravitation, 
of, say, a twelve-pound body coming down 
from a height of too feet is, to all intents 
and purposes, as dangerous as the blow of 
a bear’s paw. The difference in the danger 
is this: that of the bear ceases with his 

death, whereas it is only then commencing | 
with the goose. 
Undoubtedly the reason why one is 
more eager to pursue and more moved 
at the satisfactory realization of a well- 
planned goose hunt is the difficulties and 
disappointments that almost always go 
with it. For have not our forefathers, from 
time immemorial, repeated that old saying, 
‘‘a wild goose chase,” until is is a synony- 
mous term with “‘striving after the unat- 
tainable.” If any one ever calls you “a 
goose,” take it for a compliment. : 
Trusting that the reader is convinced, 
by this time, of the worthiness of the game, 
and that the enjoyment increases according 
to the difficulties overcome, and must be 
measured, not by the size of the bag, but 
by how much you outmaneuvered your very 
worthy adversary, we will proceed to the 
rules governing the sport. Were it an easy 
matter to get within 4o yards of these 
intensely suspicious fowl, it would be 
no more sport than killing tame geese. 
But, when you have spent a day or two in 
earnest and untiring endeavor, only to fail 
in the end, and then some glorious fall 
sunrise, when from your well-concealed 
pit you descry a long, thin, undulating line 
swiftly approaching, sociably honking ma- 
tutinal discussions, as to the weather, the 
wind, and the feed, and as the geese draw 
near and swing at sight of your decoys, 
growing bigger every moment as they 
chuckle reassuringly to one another—does 
your heart beat any faster then? And, 
as they set their wings and sweep nearer, 
‘nearer, and your partner’s head pops out 
as he yells, ‘“‘Give it to ’em !”’ and they, 
with wild cries of alarm, but too late,‘com- 
mence to climb, their big bodies looming 
up like hay stacks over your gun barrels, 
ah! never will you know till then what 
the word “thrill” really means. 
In the Middle West you can take it as an 
axiom that the neighborhood of the largest 
lakes is the best ground to find this elusive 
game. The geese prefer to roost upon 
such bodies of water as are large enough 
for them to be out of range, from either 
shore, flying out to feed, twice a day, 
