Although “every winged fowl after his kind” is included in the bird category of this creative act, it has been thought, and for good reasons, that the more highly organized birds other than the aquatic tribes, did not make their appearance till the sixth day of the Mosaic account, which would be exactly represented by the Tertiary Period of Cenozoic Time. According to this view, then, the wild goose is an older denizen of our world than the smaller birds of passage which make their home on the land only. But Geology fills up many niches and supplies many details left blank in the first chapter of Genesis. It is now one of the firmly established tenets among geologists that between the Mesozoic and Cenozoic times there came a tremendous disturbance in the earth’s crust. In his “Story of the Earth,” Dr. J. Dorman Steele says, “The Mesozoic time, like the Palaeozoic, was closed by mighty upheavals. The conditions of life were changed. All the Mesozoic types disappeared; hardly any species survived the shock.” A few individuals did survive, however, and among them was our venerable friend, the wild goose. Having now finished the prefatory portion of our story, the reader will be better able to understand what may follow. There is something wonderful, a conception, indeed, which smacks little short of the sublime in contemplating the protracted journeyings of the larger aquatic birds of passage. Especially is this true of the American wild goose, the brant and the swan. The brant is the wild goose of Great Britain and continental Europe; a much smaller bird than his American relative; and its migrations are of comparatively short range. The European domesticated swan, remains, of course, the year round in the country of his adoption. Not so, however, with the American goose and swan. Both the former, Anseres hyperboreas, and the latter, Cygnus buccinator, rear their young in the Arctic regions and spend the succeeding winter with their offspring in the Gulf States and Central America. Think of these magnificent birds, those on the Pacific coast flying from the shores of the Arctic ocean in northern Alaska and British America, crossing the Rocky Mountains, and, after a journey of four or five thousand miles, complacently settling down in Texas, Mexico, Yucutan, or Nicaragua, as the experienced leaders may determine. Then turn to those on the Atlantic side of the continent and watch them as they leave the Baffin’s Bay country, cross the great lakes and the Appalachian mountain system to make a short winter sojourn among the everglades of southern Florida. In the tactics of these great birds while performing their immense journeys there is something remarkable even to the casual observer. More than two thousand years ago it was recorded by a student of natural history that, “Olores iter facientes colla imponunt praecedentibus; fessos duces ad terga recipiunt.”