NO thoughtful man who believes in the transmigration of souls can doubt for an instant that those of military men pass a portion of their period of change in the bodies of geese. Of all birds it is the most military; its carriage, habits, and customs all point to its being animated by a spirit which in some former phase of existence has passed through the hands of a drill sergeant. Whether walking, swimming, or flying, the goose shows its military instincts. It carries its head well upright, with a certain amount of stiffness, which speaks of reminiscences of the military stock. It advances with its comrades in solid phalanx, and even when feeding preserves the same order, and holds itself in readiness for instant action. A similar formation is preserved while swimming and flying, although in the latter exercise the goose prefers travelling in single file, each member of the column preserving its distance accurately, and keeping itself in readiness to range up in close order should necessity require such a movement. The watchfulness of the bird is proverbial. In their wild state sentries always keep guard over the feeding flock, and at night it is easier to surprise a house guarded by the most wakeful of watch-dogs than to approach one around which geese have taken up their quarters. The fact that geese saved Rome by giving warning of the approach of the Gauls while the watch-dog slept is historical, and the goose was ever afterwards honoured by that military people. Even now the goose is employed in many places as a watcher, and there are many nurserymen in the neighbourhood of London who keep two or three geese in their gardens to give notice of the approach of marauders upon their fruit and flowers. It is singular, indeed, that they have not been utilised still further in this direction. They certainly have the drawback that, however great their valour, they are not feared by the armed burglar as much as is a savage watch-dog; but, upon the other hand, they can be cheaply kept, and can bring up a family which can be turned to other purposes than that of sentinels. Of all birds they are the most courageous; the gallinaceÆ, and, indeed, many other birds, will fight fiercely among themselves, but they rarely exhibit valour against other creatures, and are almost universally afraid of man. The goose, on the contrary, is of mild temper with its comrades, and it is rare indeed that quarrels of a serious nature arise even in a large flock of them; but they have little fear of other creatures. They will close up together and face a dog, and will fiercely resent the approach of a bull to their feeding ground; they will attack even a good-sized boy who ventures to interfere with them, and although they will retreat before a man, they do so in good military order, showing a brave front as they fall back, and ready instantly to assume the offensive if an occasion offers itself. In its wild state the goose is an aquatic bird, but when domesticated among us it prefers the dry land to the water; even when a pond is handy for its use, it passes but a very small portion of its time upon the water, and depends principally for its sustenance upon what it can pick up on the land. It has doubtless observed that the horse, the bullock, and the sheep, who stand high in the estimation of man, obtain their sustenance by grazing in the fields, and has therefore abandoned its family habits of feeding upon marine plants and insects, and has taken to grazing. It retains its web feet, however, so as to be in readiness for any contingency that may arise. This adaptability to circumstances has given rise to the supposition that the military spirits inhabiting the bodies of geese belonged in their lifetime to the gallant corps of marines, who always distinguish themselves equally by land and sea. The goose has suffered grievously owing to the popular, but altogether erroneous, belief in its silliness. How this belief—as expressed by calling a child a silly or a stupid goose—first originated has never been explained, for there can be no doubt whatever that the goose possesses an intelligence far above that of average birds. Under ordinary circumstances the goose is dignified in its deportment, and there is nothing that so angers it as to be hurried. Under such circumstances its movements are awkward, and when compelled to walk much faster than its ordinary gait, it is often on the verge of falling on its nose—a misfortune which does not, so far as we know, happen to any other bird or beast under the same circumstances. It is the consciousness, no doubt, that its appearance when so bustled borders on the ludicrous that excites the anger of the goose, for it is to be observed that after such an exhibition it is a long time before it recovers its usual placidity of demeanour. At times geese have shown themselves capable of strong personal attachment to their owners, following them about like dogs, and abandoning their usual habits of military evolution with their comrades. This clearly enough points to the fact that these geese were, in their former state, soldier-servants, whose duties lay in personal attendance upon officers, and were never of a military character. Unlike the hen, the female goose is not perpetually roaming about laying eggs. In the proper season she lays a sufficient number for the perpetuation of her race, and brings up a family more or less carefully; but even in this matter she does not exhibit the perpetual fussiness of the hen. She allows her young ones considerable freedom of action, but is ready in their defence to face the largest dog, and to oppose a threatening and formidable demeanour even to a human being whom she suspects of aggressive intentions towards them. So courageous is her attitude under such circumstances, that even the fiercest dogs will turn tail before her onslaught, and the ordinary boy, although he may pretend to deride her anger, will keep at a respectful distance from her. Undoubtedly the goose when attacking would have a more dignified appearance did it keep its head back in readiness for a stroke, as does the swan, instead of advancing with outstretched neck. This, however, is clearly the result of bygone drill, and the reminiscence of bayonet exercise. The cry of the goose is scarcely melodious; its hissing is almost peculiar to itself, its congener, the swan, being alone with it in the possession of the faculty of raising this angry and threatening sound. A flock of geese advancing to the attack, hissing loudly, are sufficiently alarming to the average woman, and terrifying in the extreme to a child, and even animals vastly superior in bulk and strength exhibit signs of trepidation when thus assailed. As might be expected, the goose is not particular as to its rations, and will eat anything. It will browse upon water weeds, it will graze on grass, it delights in corn, and will eat scraps of any kind of food. The final result of all this is eminently satisfactory. It is doubtful whether any kind of bird affords such excellent eating. Were the goose a rare bird, and its flesh so costly as to be seen only on the tables of the wealthy, it is probable that it would be considered as the very greatest of luxuries. Owing, however, to its numbers, and the manner in which it picks up its own living, it requires but little outlay in its rearing. Its flesh is so plentiful that at certain seasons of the year it can actually be purchased at a lower rate than butcher’s meat. At Christmas time geese can be bought in London at sixpence a pound, and the goose can fairly claim to be the working man’s greatest luxury in the way of food. Although fashion has ordained that the turkey shall occupy the place of honour on the Christmas board of the well-to-do, the flesh of that bird is dry and tasteless in comparison to the juicy and well-flavoured meat of the goose. But, in addition to supplying man with some of his most tasty food, the goose also bestows upon him the most comfortable of beds. It is true that the hand of innovation has produced many contrivances of steel and iron, with complications of springs, to produce the same effect of elasticity as the bed stuffed with good goose feathers, and it may be owned that in summer time the spring bed possesses certain advantages, but in the depth of winter it is a poor substitute for the warmth and cosiness of the feather bed. Altogether, the goose deserves a far higher place than it really occupies in the esteem and affection of mankind. Its courage and military habits render it admirable when alive; its flesh and its feathers should win for it our warmest regard after its death. |