WILDFOWL AND WILDFOWLING 
streak ruled across the waters to windward. They must “ flatten ” now 
— that is, lie prone on chest, propelling the boat by a setting-pole over 
the starboard quarter — for that thin dark line is a company of wigeon, 
perhaps fifty or sixty in number. The fact is presently proclaimed as a 
wild whistling ^^Oh-whee-you ” from some watchful old drake resounds 
across the waters. The conspicuous white wing -coverts of these become 
visible as the low snakelike craft darts ahead, while the water hisses 
along her sides as she draws nearer and nearer at each stroke of the pole. 
Now we are within 100 yards — a few seconds more means realizing a round 
dozen, perchance a score. The bulk of the company are now seen to be rest- 
ing half-afloat along the mud -edge ; others paddle listlessly outside ; a few 
toy idly with submerged fronds of zostera. For night is their time to feed 
in earnest, at least after November. But where those wigeon summered 
and bred in the Arctic, there is no night ; hence wigeon up there (and 
other creatures likewise) assume irregular habits in this respect, and 
these they continue to observe on first arrival in European waters. Here, 
however, the persistent attentions of fowlers soon teach wigeon to seek 
a greater measure of safety in darkness. After November, wigeon spend 
the day at sea, or at least on open waters. 
For some little time the fowlers have been conscious of a weird subdued 
chorus afar — as of a distant pack of hounds in full cry. On nearer approach 
the inspiring strain will be ascertained to proceed from another thin 
dark line, ruled as it were on the grey waters. This time, however, the 
line is visibly deeper, darker and denser. It is a nice pack of brent geese, 
500 strong. These are the most important of all our British wild -fowl, 
and, in one sense only, the most obliging also. Since (reversing the 
nocturnal habits of wigeon and all the other game -ducks), geese feed by 
day, and may always be interviewed, at a safe distance, in such spots as 
they elect to frequent, from dawn till dusk. As the gunboat cautiously 
draws in towards their position, though still 600 yards away, it may hap 
that the crash of clanging voices seems suddenly to redouble, and the far 
horizon ahead is seen to be amove with changing forms and figures — 
some in masses like a whirling cloud or the smoke of a distant steamer, 
others in loose groups or Strung out in rigid rectilineal formations. These, 
too, are all brent geese, fresh packs, perhaps straight “ from foreign,” 
or, it may be, disturbed elsewhere, and now coming in, in a score of separate 
companies and commands, to join their friends, the army-corps, on our 
front. The combined clamour from thousands of stentorian throats as 
389 
