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Wild Geese: Arrival of; Different kinds of; Anecdotes of Shooting Wild
Geese — Feeding-places —Wariness — Habits — Breeding-places —
Blackheaded Gull — Birds that breed on the River-banks.
On the 2d of March a flock
of twelve wild geese passed over my house, flying eastwards towards the
Loch of Spynie : these are the first birds of the kind I have seen this
spring. On the 6th I hear of the same flock being seen feeding on a
clover-field to the eastward, in the flat country between this place and
Loch Spynie. This flock of geese are said to have been occasionally seen
during the whole winter about the peat-mosses beyond Brodie, there having
been no severe frost or snow to drive them southward.
The first wild geese that
we see here are not the common grey goose, but the white-fronted or
laughing goose, Anas albi-frons, called by Buffon I'Oye rieuse.
This bird has a peculiarly harsh and wild cry, whence its name. It differs
in another respect also from the common grey goose, in preferring clover
and green wheat to corn for its food. Indeed, this bird appears to me to
be wholly graminiferous. Unlike the grey goose too, it roosts, when
undisturbed, in any grass-field where it may have been feeding in the
afternoon, instead of taking to the bay every night for its sleeping
quarters. The laughing goose also never appears here in large flocks, but
in small companies of from eight or nine to twenty birds.
Though very watchful at all
times, they are more easily approached than the grey goose, and often feed
on ground that admits of stalking them. I see them occasionally feeding in
small swamps and patches of grass surrounded by high banks, furze, or
trees. The grey goose appears to select the most open and extensive fields
in the country to feed in, always avoiding any bank or hedge that may
conceal a foe.
On the 10th of March last
year, when out rabbit-shooting in a small furze cover, I saw a flock of
some fifteen or sixteen white-fronted geese hovering over a small
clover-field not far from where I was. My attendant, who has a most
violent liking for a " wild-goose-chase," immediately caught up the dogs,
and made me sit down to watch the birds, who presently pitched, as we
expected, on the clover-field. I was for immediately commencing the
campaign against them, but this he would not admit of, and pointing out a
part of the field sheltered by a bank overgrown with furze, where the
clover was greener than elsewhere, he told me that in ten minutes the
birds would be there. Knowing his experience and cunning in these matters,
I put myself entirely under his orders, and waited patiently. The geese,
after sitting quietly for a few minutes, and surveying the country around,
began to plume their feathers, and this done, commenced feeding in a
straight line for the green spot of grass, keeping, however, a constant
watch in all directions. "They will be in that hollow in a minute, Sir,"
said Simon; "and then, Sir, you must just run for it till you get behind
the bank, and then you can easily crawl to within thirty yards of where
they will pass." Accordingly, the moment they disappeared in the hollow, I
started literally ventre a terre. One of the wary birds, however,
evidently not liking that the whole flock should be in the hollow at once,
ran back and took up her station on the rising ground which they had just
passed over, where she stood with her neck erect and looking in all
directions. I was in full view of her, and at the moment was crossing a
wet rushy spot of ground; nothing was left for it but to lie flat on the
ground, notwithstanding the humid nature of my locale ; the bird appeared
rather puzzled by my appearance, and my grey clothes not making much show
in the rushy ground and withered herbage which I was lying in, she
contented herself with giving some private signal to the rest, which
brought them all at a quick run up to her side, where they stood looking
about them, undecided whether to fly or not. I was about two hundred yards
from the birds; we remained in this manner for, I dare say, five minutes,
the birds appearing on the point of taking wing during the whole time :
suddenly I heard a shout beyond the birds, and they instantly rose in
confusion and flew directly towards me. As soon as they were over my head
I stood up; the effect of my sudden appearance was to make them break
their line and fly straight away from me in all directions, thus giving me
what I wanted, shots at them when flying away from me, in which case they
are easy to kill. My cartridges told with good effect, and I killed a
brace, one dropping perfectly dead and the other extending her wings and
gradually sinking, till she fell on the top of a furze-bush three or four
hundred yards off, where I found her lying quite dead. It appeared that
Simon, seeing that the birds had observed me, ran round them, and then
setting up a shout, had luckily driven them nolens volens over my head.
They were the white-fronted goose, with pure white spots on their
foreheads. About three weeks after this time, at the end March, large
flights of grey geese appear here, feeding on the fresh-sown oats, barley,
and peas during the day, and passing the night on the sands of the bay,
whither they always repair soon after sunset.
I had passed a great part of several days in endeavouring to get at these
wary birds, and had occasionally killed a stray one or two, but some ill
luck or error on my part (Simon would never admit that his own tactics
were wrong) had always prevented my getting a good shot at the flocks. As
for Simon, he protested that " his heart was quite broken with the
beasts." One morning, however, I got up at daylight and went to the shore
; a heavy mist was rolling over the bay, and I could see nothing, but
heard the wild and continued cry of hundreds of geese answering each
other, and apparently consulting as to what direction they should seek
their morning's repast in. Presently I knew from their altered cry that
the birds were on wing, and were coming directly towards where I was : I
sat down, and very soon a long line of geese came cackling and chattering
within fifteen yards of me, and I killed a brace with no trouble. In the
afternoon, while walking on the shore, I saw a large flock of geese rise
off the sea and fly inland, in a long undulating line, evidently looking
for a place to feed on. I watched them with my glass, and saw the field in
which they alighted, at the distance of at least two miles from me. I sent
for Simon, and started in pursuit. We came within two fields of the birds,
and could advance no nearer without risk of putting them up. On two sides
of the field " in which they were feeding," was a deep open drain ; and
once in this we were nearly sure of a shot. Luckily a farmer was ploughing
in an adjoining field, and though at every turn he approached the ditch of
the oatfield where the geese were, the birds, according to their usual
custom, took no notice of him. We joined the ploughman, and keeping behind
the horses, slipped unperceived by the geese into the ditch, which, by the
by, had in it about a foot of the coldest water that I ever felt. It was
deep enough, however, to conceal us entirely, and following Simon, I went
about three hundred yards down the drain, till we came to another which
ran at right angles to the first; we turned along this ditch, which, not
being cut so deep as the other, obliged us to stoop in a manner that made
my back ache most unmercifully. Simon appeared to understand exactly what
he was at, and to have a perfect knowledge of the geography of all the
drains in the country. Putting on a nondescript kind of cap, made of dirty
canvas, exactly the colour of a ploughed field, he peered cautiously
through a bunch of rushes which grew on the edge of the ditch ; then
looking at me with a most satisfied grin, floundered on again till he came
to another ditch that crossed us at right angles. Up this he went, and of
course I had nothing to do but to follow, though as I occasionally sank
above my knees into cold spring water, I began to wish all the wild geese
were consigned to his black majesty : we went about a hundred yards up
this last drain, till we came to a part where a few rushes grew on the
banks ; looking through these we saw about fifty geese coming straight
towards us, feeding; we got our guns cautiously on the top of the bank and
waited till the birds were within twenty-five yards of us, they then began
to turn to cross the field back again. Some were within shot, however, and
on our giving a low whistle they ran together, preparatory to rising; this
was our moment: only one of my barrels went off, the other having got wet
through, copper cap and everything, during our progress in the ditch. We,
however, bagged three birds, and another flew wounded away, and at last
fell close to the sea-shore, where we afterwards found her. Having
collected our game, I was not sorry to walk off home in double-quick time
to put a little caloric into my limbs, as I felt perfectly benumbed after
wading for such a distance in a cold March wind.
On our way home we saw an
immense flock of geese alight to feed on a small field of newly-sown peas.
Simon was delighted, and promised me a good shot in the morning, if I left
him at the nearest farm-house to take his own steps towards ensuring me
the chance.
Accordingly the next
morning, at daylight, I went with him to the spot: the geese were still
resting on the sands, not having yet made their morning meal. In the very
centre of the pea-field Simon had constructed what he called an "ambush;"
this was a kind of hut or rather hole in the ground, just large enough to
contain one person, whose chin would be on a level with the field. The
ground was rather rough, and he had so disposed the clods of earth that I
was quite invisible till the geese came within a yard or two of me. Into
this hole he made me worm myself while he went to a hedge at some
distance, for the chance of the birds coming over his head after I had
fired. The sun was not yet up when I heard the cackle of the geese, and
soon afterwards the whole flock came soaring over my head; round and round
they flew, getting lower every circle. I could several times have fired at
single birds as they flew close by me, and so well concealed was I with
clods of earth, dried grass, etc., that they never suspected my presence
in the midst of their breakfast-table. Presently they all alighted at the
farthest end of the field from me, and commenced shovelling up the peas in
the most wholesale manner. Though the field was small, they managed to
feed from one end to the other without coming within sixty yards of me;
having got to the end of the field, they turned round, and this time I saw
that they would pass within shot. Suddenly they all halted, and I saw that
something had alarmed them; I looked cautiously out, and saw, in the
direction in which their heads were turned, a large fox sitting upright
and looking wistfully at the geese, but seeming quite aware that he had no
chance of getting at them. The morning sun, however, which was just
rising, and which, shining on his coat, made it appear perfectly red,
warned him that it was time to be off to the woods, and he trotted quietly
away, passing my ambuscade within forty yards, but always keeping his head
turned towards the geese, as if unwilling to give up all hope of getting
one of them. The distant bark of a dog, however, again warned him, and he
quickened his pace and was soon out of sight. The geese seemed quite
relieved at his departure, and recommenced feeding. I cocked my gun and
arranged my ambuscade, so as to be ready for them when they came opposite
to me; presently one or two stragglers passed within ten yards; I pulled
the dead grass in front of my face, so that they could not see me, and
waited for the main flock, who soon came by, feeding hurriedly as they
passed ; when they were opposite to me, I threw down part of the clods and
grass that concealed me, and fired both barrels at the thickest part of
the flock: three fell dead, and two others dropped before the flock had
flown many hundred yards. Simon ran from his hiding-place to secure them;
one was dead, the other rose again, but was stopped by a charge from his
gun. Our five geese were no light load to carry home, as they had been
feeding on the corn for a fortnight or three weeks, and had become very
fat and heavy.
The common grey goose,
after having fed for some time in the fresh-sown corn-fields, is by no
means a bad bird for the larder. But before they can procure grain to feed
on, their flesh is neither so firm nor so well-flavoured. In this country
there are three kinds of geese, all called by the common name of "wild
geese," namely, the white-fronted goose, already mentioned ; the common
grey-leg goose, Anas Anser; and the bean-goose. The latter kind differs
from the grey goose in having a small black mark at the end of their bill,
about the size and colour of a horse bean. This bird, too, differs in
being rather smaller and more dark in its general colour than the grey
goose. It is a great libel to accuse a goose of being a silly bird. Even a
tame goose shows much instinct and attachment; and were its habits more
closely observed, the tame goose would be found to be by no means wanting
in general cleverness. Its watchfulness at night-time is, and always has
been, proverbial; and it certainly is endowed with a strong organ of
self-preservation. You may drive over dog, cat, hen, or pig; but I defy
you to drive over a tame goose. As for wild geese, I know of no animal,
biped or quadruped, that is so difficult to deceive or approach. Their
senses of hearing, seeing, and smelling are all extremely acute;
independently of which they appear to act in so organised and cautious a
manner when feeding or roosting, as to defy all danger. Many a time has my
utmost caution been of no avail in attempting to approach these birds;
either a careless step on a piece of gravel, or an eddy of wind, however
light, or letting them perceive the smallest portion of my person, has
rendered useless whole hours of manoeuvring. 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 suspicious
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 sentinal 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 to the fields.
Those flocks that feed at a distance start before sunrise; but those that
feed nearer to the bay do not leave their roosting-place so soon. During
stormy and misty weather, the geese frequently fly quite low over the
heads of the work-people in the fields, but even then have a kind of
instinctive dread of any person in the garb of a sportsman. I have also
frequently got shots at wild geese by finding out the pools where they
drink during the daytime. They generally alight at the distance of two or
three hundred yards from the pool; and after watching motionless for a few
minutes, all start off in a hurry to get their drink. This done, they
return to the open field or the sea-shore.
In some parts of
Sutherland—for instance on Loch Shin, and other lonely and unfrequented
pieces of water—the wild goose breeds on the small islands that dot these
waters. If their eggs are taken and hatched under tame geese, the young
are easily domesticated; but, unless pinioned or confined, they always
take to flight with the first flock of wild geese that passes over the
place during the migrating-season. Even when unable to fly, they evince a
great desire to take wing at this season, and are very restless for a few
weeks in spring and autumn. In a lonely and little-frequented spot on the
banks of Loch Shin, where the remains of walls and short green herbage
point out the site of some former shealing or residence of cattle-herds,
long since gone to ruin, I have frequently found the wild goose with her
brood feeding on the fine grass that grows on what was once the dwelling
of man. The young birds do not fly till after they are full grown; but are
very active in the water, swimming and diving with great quickness.
March is a month full of
interest to the observer of the habits of birds, particularly of those
that are migratory. During the last week of February and the first week in
March thousands of pewits appear here: first a few stragglers arrive, but
in the course of some days the shores of the bay are literally alive with
them.
The black-headed gulls also
arrive in great numbers. This bird loses the black feathers on the head
during the winter, and at this season begins to resume them. I see the
birds with their heads of every degree of black and white just now; in a
fortnight their black cowl is complete. In the evenings and at nighttime
thousands of these birds collect on the bay, and every one of them appears
to be chattering at once, so that the whole flock together make a noise
that drowns every other sound or cry for a considerable distance round
them.
March 6th.—I observe that
the herons in the heronry on the Findhorn are now busily employed in
sitting on their eggs, the heron being one of the first birds to commence
breeding in this country. A more curious and interesting sight than the
Find-horn heronry I do not know : from the top of the high rocks on the
east side of the river you look down into every nest, the herons breeding
on the opposite side of the river, which is here very narrow. The cliffs
and rocks are studded with splendid pines and larch, and fringed with all
the more lowly but not less beautiful underwood which abounds in this
country. Conspicuous amongst these are the bird-cherry and mountain-ash,
the holly and the wild rose ; while the golden blossoms of furze and broom
enliven every crevice and corner in the rock. Opposite to you is a wood of
larch and oak, on the latter of which trees are crowded a vast number of
the nests of the heron. The foliage and small branches of the oaks that
they breed on seem entirely destroyed, leaving nothing but the naked arms
and branches of the trees on which the nests are placed. The same nests,
slightly repaired, are used year after year. Looking down at them from the
high banks of the Altyre side of the river, you can see directly into
their nests, and can become acquainted with the whole of their domestic
economy. You can plainly see the green eggs, and also the young herons,
who fearlessly, and conscious of the security they are left in, are
constantly passing backwards and forwards, and alighting on the topmost
branches of the larch or oak trees, whilst the still younger birds sit
bolt upright in the nest, snapping their beaks together with a curious
sound. Occasionally a grave-looking heron is seen balancing himself by
some incomprehensible feat of gymnastics on the very topmost twig of a
larch tree, where he swings about in an unsteady manner, quite unbecoming
so sage-looking a bird. Occasionally a thievish jackdaw dashes out from
the cliffs opposite the heronry and flies straight into some unguarded
nest, seizes one of the large green eggs, and flies back to his own side
of the river, the rightful owner of the eggs pursuing the active little
robber with loud cries and the most awkward attempts at catching him.
The heron is a noble and
picturesque looking bird, as she sails quietly through the air with
outstretched wings and slow flight; but nothing is more ridiculous and
undignified than her appearance as she vainly chases the jackdaw or hooded
crow who is carrying off her egg, and darting rapidly round the angles and
corners of the rocks. Now and then every heron raises its head and looks
on the alert as the peregrine falcon, with rapid and direct flight, passes
their crowded dominion; but intent on his own nest, built on the rock some
little way farther on, the hawk takes no notice of his long-legged
neighbours, who soon settle down again into their attitudes of rest. The
kestrel-hawk frequents the same part of the river, and lives in amity with
the wood-pigeons that breed in every cluster of ivy which clings to the
rocks. Even that bold and fearless enemy of all the pigeon race, the
sparrowhawk, frequently has her nest within a few yards of the
wood-pigeon, and you see these birds (at all other seasons such deadly
enemies) passing each other in their way to and fro from their respective
nests in perfect peace and amity. It has seemed to me that the sparrowhawk
and wood-pigeon during the breeding-season frequently enter into a mutual
compact against the crows and jackdaws, who are constantly on the look-out
for the eggs of all other birds. The hawk appears to depend on the
vigilance of the wood-pigeon to warn him of the approach of these
marauders; and then the brave little warrior sallies out, and is not
satisfied till he has driven the crow to a safe distance from the nests of
himself and his more peaceable ally. At least in no other way can I
account for these two birds so very frequently breeding not only, in the
same range of rock, but within two or three yards of each other.
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