60 THE GREY LAG-GOOSE. 
past ; round comes the Ring-Tail again, down dives the Goose ; 
again and again these manceuvres are repeated, and at last 
either the Eagle gives up the chase, or the Goose, (and this, 
I think, is most generally the case) diving a little too slowly, 
gets caught by the long legs (which are each time dashed their 
whole length into the water) before it has got deep enough 
down, and the Eagle then flies slowly to the shore, bearing 
its prey in its talons. An Indian Grey Goose will weigh on the 
average 7ibs., but I have repeatedly seen good-sized Grey Geese 
carried off in the claws of one of these Eagles, the bird flying 
slowly and low over the surface of the water, but still quite steadily. 
Even in lakes and broads they are very tame birds if 
properly handled, and aman who knows what he is about, by 
moving backwards and forwards slowly, can walk a flock of 
Anser cinereus before him up to any point he pleases, where 
some hidden comrade awaits their advent. 
Provided the driver never walks at them, but always as if 
passing by them, and does not walk quicker than they can swim 
along lazily, and especially if he has a buffalo with him, the 
entire herd will progress slowly in the required direction. with 
very little regard to wind, and, strange to say, with very little 
hesitation though repeatedly fired at in the same way. On one 
of the large jhils in the Etawah District (Sarsai-Nawur) lived 
a shikarree who killed on the average a Goose a day as long as 
the water lasted. Every two or three days he used to lay up 
with his old match-lock at some convenient point, get his boy to 
drive the Geese, fire his shot and kill his one, two, three or more. 
His whole secret was, that he zever showed himself; he crawled 
away tbrough the rushes as soon as the flock had flown away, 
and let the boy, after a time, work his way to where the dead 
birds were and pick them up. Wounded birds he never chased, 
(indeed one year I got a boat and shot eleven of his winged 
birds that had accumulated since the beginning of the 
season), and the herd never knew how they were shot or by 
whom, and I doubt not concluded that it was an inevitable dis- 
pensation of Providence. I shot six Geese I think this way, on 
two occasions, but gave it up as you had to lay in water and 
mud some three inches deep at least an hour before firing, and 
at least five minutes afterwards, and had a ten minutes wet 
crawl to and from the shooting point. 
The cackling of a frightened flock is a perfect Babel of dis- 
cords, but, on the other hand, the cackle of a large flock flying 
over head at night, high in air, is most sonorous and musical, 
and there are few sportsmen through whose hearts it does not 
send apleasant thrill. To me it comes ever “like the odour of 
brine from the ocean,” redolent with memories of happy boyish 
days, when before Drainage Commissioners and Steam Mills, 
Wild Geese were common enough in winter upon our East 
Norfolk “ ronds and ma’shes,” 
