geese were on the wing about him, he had not long to wait. The lines of these creatures, wavering like smoke upon the sky as they breasted the sunrise, were all at once in music and in laughter. Each squadron of them was in different voice, some larking, some triumphant, some in sentiment or glee. The vault of daybreak filled itself with heralds, and this ts what they sang:
Oh, turning world, pouring beneath our
pinions. Hoist the hoar sun to welcome morning's
minions.
See, on each breast the scarlet and vermillion,
Hear, from each throat the clarion and carillion.
Mark, the wild wandering lines in black
battalions, Heaven's horns and hunters, dawn-bright
hounds and stallions.
Free, free: far, far: and fair on wavering wings Comes Anser albifrons, and sounds, and sings.
HE FOUND HIMSELF in a coarse field, in daylight. His companions of the flight were grazing round him, plucking the grass with sideways wrenches of their soft bills, bending their necks into abrupt loops, unlike the graceful curves of the swan. Always, as they fed, one of their number was on guard, its head erect and snakelike. They had mated during the winter months, or else in previous winters, so that they tended to feed in pairs within the family and squadron. The young female, his neighbour of the mud-flats, was unmated. She kept an intelligent eye upon him.
The old man who had remembered his boyhood, watching her secretly, could not help thinking she was beautiful. He even felt a tenderness towards her downy breast, as yet quite innocent of bars; towards her plump compacted frame and the neat furrows of her neck. These furrows, he saw out of the corner of his eye, were caused by a difference in the feathering. The feathers were concave, which separated them from one another, making a texture of ridges which he considered graceful.
Presently the young woman gave him a shove with her bill. She had been acting sentry.
"Go on," she said vulgarly. "You next."
She lowered her head without waiting for an answer, and began to graze in the same manner. Her feeding took her from his side.
He stood as sentry. He did not know what he was watching, nor could he see any enemy, except the tussocks and his nibbling mates; but he was not sorry to be a trusted sentinel. He was surprised to find that he was not averse to seeming masculine, in case the lady might be watching. He was still too innocent, after all his years, to know that she would certainly be doing so.
"What ever are you doing?" she asked, passing him after half an hour.
"I was on guard."
"Go on with you," she said with a giggle, or should it be a gaggle? "You are a silly one."
"Why?"
"Go on. You know."
"Honestly," he said, "I do not. Am I doing it wrong? I do not understand."
"Peck the next one. You have been on for twice your time, at least."
He did as he was bid, at which the grazer next to him took over, and then he walked along to feed beside her. They nibbled, noting each other out of beady eyes, until he came to a decision. "You think I am stupid," he said awkwardly, confessing the secret of his species for the first time in a varied intercourse with animals, "but it is because I am not a goose. I was born a human. This is my first flight among the grey people."
She was only mildly surprised.
"It is unusual," she said. "The humans generally try the swans. The last lot we had were the Children of Lir. However, I suppose we are all Anseriformes together."
"I have heard of the Children of Lir."
"They did not enjoy it. They were hopelessly nationalistic and religious, which resulted in their always hanging about round one of the chapels in Ireland. You could say that they hardly noticed the other swans at all."
"I am enjoying it," he said politely.
"I noticed you were. What were you sent for?"
"To learn about the world."
They grazed away in silence, until his own words reminded him of his mission.
"The sentries," he enquired. "Are we at war?"
She did not
Oh, turning world, pouring beneath our
pinions. Hoist the hoar sun to welcome morning's
minions.
See, on each breast the scarlet and vermillion,
Hear, from each throat the clarion and carillion.
Mark, the wild wandering lines in black
battalions, Heaven's horns and hunters, dawn-bright
hounds and stallions.
Free, free: far, far: and fair on wavering wings Comes Anser albifrons, and sounds, and sings.
HE FOUND HIMSELF in a coarse field, in daylight. His companions of the flight were grazing round him, plucking the grass with sideways wrenches of their soft bills, bending their necks into abrupt loops, unlike the graceful curves of the swan. Always, as they fed, one of their number was on guard, its head erect and snakelike. They had mated during the winter months, or else in previous winters, so that they tended to feed in pairs within the family and squadron. The young female, his neighbour of the mud-flats, was unmated. She kept an intelligent eye upon him.
The old man who had remembered his boyhood, watching her secretly, could not help thinking she was beautiful. He even felt a tenderness towards her downy breast, as yet quite innocent of bars; towards her plump compacted frame and the neat furrows of her neck. These furrows, he saw out of the corner of his eye, were caused by a difference in the feathering. The feathers were concave, which separated them from one another, making a texture of ridges which he considered graceful.
Presently the young woman gave him a shove with her bill. She had been acting sentry.
"Go on," she said vulgarly. "You next."
She lowered her head without waiting for an answer, and began to graze in the same manner. Her feeding took her from his side.
He stood as sentry. He did not know what he was watching, nor could he see any enemy, except the tussocks and his nibbling mates; but he was not sorry to be a trusted sentinel. He was surprised to find that he was not averse to seeming masculine, in case the lady might be watching. He was still too innocent, after all his years, to know that she would certainly be doing so.
"What ever are you doing?" she asked, passing him after half an hour.
"I was on guard."
"Go on with you," she said with a giggle, or should it be a gaggle? "You are a silly one."
"Why?"
"Go on. You know."
"Honestly," he said, "I do not. Am I doing it wrong? I do not understand."
"Peck the next one. You have been on for twice your time, at least."
He did as he was bid, at which the grazer next to him took over, and then he walked along to feed beside her. They nibbled, noting each other out of beady eyes, until he came to a decision. "You think I am stupid," he said awkwardly, confessing the secret of his species for the first time in a varied intercourse with animals, "but it is because I am not a goose. I was born a human. This is my first flight among the grey people."
She was only mildly surprised.
"It is unusual," she said. "The humans generally try the swans. The last lot we had were the Children of Lir. However, I suppose we are all Anseriformes together."
"I have heard of the Children of Lir."
"They did not enjoy it. They were hopelessly nationalistic and religious, which resulted in their always hanging about round one of the chapels in Ireland. You could say that they hardly noticed the other swans at all."
"I am enjoying it," he said politely.
"I noticed you were. What were you sent for?"
"To learn about the world."
They grazed away in silence, until his own words reminded him of his mission.
"The sentries," he enquired. "Are we at war?"
She did not
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