PAIRING, BREEDING, AND MANAGEMENT.

In the month of November, it is recommended that every flock of wild geese be reduced to two pairs, (or at least three pairs,) in order to guard against accidents to one. Such birds should be retained, as differ as much, in age, as may be consistent with their breeding powers; and also, if possible, those should be selected which have been observed to entertain a mutual dislike, in order that they may fix their nests at a distance from each other. They should previously have become attached to their keeper, though not to their co-mates, that they may suffer him to approach and feed them and their goslings liberally, and so bring them into thoroughly good condition by killing time.

The stock bird ought to be well supplied with grain or Indian corn during winter, when the grass grows little or not at all, to promote early laying; but they usually have a few kernels of barley or maize thrown down to them now and then. No one can blame them, if they occasionally stray out of bounds in search of food; but they are then accused of restlessness, shyness, and so on. It is no migratory impulse that sets them on the move, but over-crowding and under-feeding; in proof of which, they will generally return of their own accord. I am speaking of birds that have been bred in captivity for several generations. Give them room and food enough, and they will stay contentedly at home. Curtail their supplies, and they become like "darkness," in Spoffoth's wellknown glee; "flies away" is ever and again the burden of their song. The Canada goose is a very large bird, and cannot be expected to live and get fat upon air. If a farmer's wife were to treat her turkeys as the Canada goslings are usually served, they would at Christmas be just as tough, stringy, and uneatable, if indeed they survived the pinching regimen so long. The growing goslings must sensibly miss the abundance of their native breeding places, when confined to these short commons; and it is not just in us, after such neglect and penuriousness on our part, to complain that they neither fat well nor reproduce at an early age.

From each pair of geese, properly looked after, between six and nine goslings may fairly be calculated upon; which, killed in the autumn, when really plump, would be very acceptable at home, or as presents to unprejudiced persons. Managed thus, they would be little, or, according to Audubon, not at all inferior to a fatted cygnet. And their picturesque effect, as accessaries in landscape gardening, would surely be greater in distinct uniformly-tinted groups, moving here and there across the scene with a decided object, namely, the conducting of their young, than as a motley crowd of diversely-colored, variously-shaped creatures, huddled together in unmeaning confusion. The woodland park should be stocked on different principles to the aviary and the menagerie. Thus it is, as a spot of pure white, that the swan gives such a sparkling brilliancy to the picture; and the point of deepest shade, (an adjunct of no less importance to the painter,) may be made more intense and effective by the judicious employment of the Canada goose.

When a pair are received from a distance, the best way of settling them in their new abode is to confine them with hurdles and netting, as near as possible to the spot where it is wished they should eventually make their nest. Those from the hands of dealers will generally be cowed or timidly tame; but young birds fresh taken from their parents, or adult ones that have been removed from their old home to a new one, will sulk and be shy. For the first few hours, they need have nothing to eat, only plenty of water to drink. Their keeper should show himself to them, and speak to them kindly, as often as his leisure will permit; when he guesses that they begin to feel the cravings of hunger, a small handful of grain may be thrown down to them, a cabbage or two, and half a dozen earth worms. It is, of course, supposed that they have been located on the grass. It is likely that, at first, they will not eat in the presence of a stranger; they may be left for an hour or so when, if they have availed themselves of his absence, he may give them a little more from time to time. Proceeding thus by kindness, familiarity, and very frequent

visits, he will soon secure their confidence, and be able to form his own judgment when they may be suffered to range at large.

The young are active, self-helping little things. Their down is of a dirty-grey, a color very difficult to describe, with darker patches here and there like the young of the China goose. Their bill, eyes, and legs are black. They give no trouble in rearing. The old ones lead them to the places where suitable food is to be obtained. The keeper, by a liberal supply of grain or Indian corn, can bring them forward for the table better than by shutting them up to fat; and before Christmas, the parents should be again alone in their domain. They will continue to increase in size and beauty for some years, and should have been pinioned at the first joint of the wing, reckoning from the tip, in the manner described for the swan; the young that are to be eaten had better remain unmutilated. Old birds, killed in the autumn, after they have recovered from moulting, and before they have begun to think about the breeding time, would make excellent meat if cut into small portions, stewed slowly five or six hours with savory condiments, and made into pies the next day. ""Tis the soup that makes the soldier," say the French. By roasting or broiling similar "joints," we lose the large quantity of nutriment contained in the bones and cartilages, besides having to swallow tough, what we might easily make tender. young, as well as the old, in some parts of this country, are salted and boiled; they would probably please most palates better, if cooked and served swan fashion. The young male has a frequent disposition to neglect his own mate, and give himself up to unlicenced companionship. Mr. Dixon had one that deserted his partner, to her evident grief, and made most furious love to one of a flock of tame geese, separating her from the rest, not permitting any other water bird to swim near her, stretching out his neck stiffly on a level with the water, opening his red-lined throat to its utmost extent, hissing, grunting, sighing, trumpeting, winking his bright, black eyes, tossing his head madly, and all kinds of folly. Mr. D. did not choose to permit such conduct; but as often

The

as he killed and roasted the object of his affections, the Canadian gander immediately selected another leman, invariably the ugliest of the surviving females. One short, squat, rough-feathered, ill-marked goose, with a thick bill and a great grey topknot, was his special favorite. When the Michaelmas murders had extirpated the whole race he so admired, he returned reluctantly and coldly to his former love. The best remedy in such a case is to divorce them at once, and exchange one out of the pair for another bird.

A similar incident is related in the seventh volume of the "American Agriculturist," by Col. Minot Thayer, of Braintree, Massachusetts, in the following words:" A few years since, a neighbor of mine shot at a flock while passing to the south, wounded one in the wing, took him alive, and very soon domesticated him. He soon became very tame, and went with the other geese. I bought him, and kept him three years, and then mated him with an old native goose. They had several broods of young ones, and the old goose became very feeble; so much so, that she could not sit long enough to hatch out her eggs. I accordingly put them under another goose, where they did very well. In the fall of the year, I gave her away, and mated the wild gander with another. In the spring following, about six months after, I heard that the old goose had got better, and was in good health. She was brought home and put into my poultry yard. The wild gander and his new mate were at a distance of about eighty rods, in another pasture. As soon as the old goose was put into the yard, she made a loud noise, which the wild gander heard. He immediately left his new mate, and came down to the yard, recognised his old mate, entered into close conversation, and appeared extremely happy in seeing her again. His other mate followed him, and wished to join the party, but he appeared much offended, treated her with the greatest indifference, and drove her from him

THE COMMON SWAN.

NATURAL HISTORY.

Emblem of modest grace,

Of unaffected dignity and ease,

Of pure and elegant simplicity.

EUDOSIA.

THE swan, beyond all question, is the bird to place, as a finishing stroke of art, on the smooth lake which expands before our mansions. It is perfectly needless, however delightful, to quote Milton and others, lauding the arched neck, the white wings, the oary feet, and so on. Its superb beauty is undeniable and acknowledged; and, to borrow an apt, though homely metaphor, I do not wish, if it can conveniently be avoided, in the present volume, "to thresh straw that has been thrice threshed before," to repeat how lovely the swan is on the silver lake, "floating double, swan and shadow;" for I might thus run, scissors in hand, through the whole Corpus Poetarum; my object being simply to point out the chief features in their natural history, and the best mode of treating them.