At once the measure of opportunity was gauged, and the arrangements necessary for its exploitation were made. Within three minutes a messenger was galloping homewards to summon a couple of men with spades and buckets to prepare a hole wherein one of us might lie concealed at daybreak. A pannier-mule to carry away the excavated material was also requisitioned, since the least visible change in the earth’s surface would instantly be recognised by the geese as a danger-signal. Within a few minutes we had resumed our course, to continue the day’s sport.
Next morning half an hour before dawn the writer reached the spot. It was pitch-dark and a dense fog prevailed. By what mental process my guides directed an unerring course to that lonely hole in the midst of a pathless and practically boundless waste passes understanding. Such piloting (without aid of compass or even of the heavenly bodies—the usual index on which marshmen rely) seems to indicate a point where intellect and instinct touch; or perhaps rather a survival of the latter quality which, in modern races, has become obsolete through disuse. Among savage races that faculty of instinct is markedly prominent, indeed the master-force; but there it has been acquired (or retained) at the cost of intellect, which is not the case with our Spanish friends—they possess both qualities. But place the best intellects of Madrid, or Paris, or London in such conditions—in darkness, or fog, or in viewless forest—and not one could hold a straight course for half-a-mile. Within ten minutes each man would be lost, devoid of all sense of direction. That is part of the price of the higher civilisation—the loss of a faculty which need not clash with any other. Of course where people live with a telephone at their ear, with electric trams and “tubes” close at hand, where a whistle will summon an attendant hansom and two a taxi-meter—or, as Punch suggested, three may bring down an airship—well, in such case, those modern “advantages” may be held to outweigh the loss of a primitive natural faculty.
Hardly had a tardy light begun to strengthen to the dawn than the soft, soliloquising “Gagga, gagga, gagga,” with alternatively the raucous “Honk-honk,” resounded afar through the gloom. From seven o’clock onwards geese were flying close around—so near that the rustling of strong wings sounded almost within arm’s-length; but that opaque fog held unbroken and nothing could be seen. Long before eight I resolved to quit and leave the fowl undisturbed for another morning rather than open fire at so late an hour. Having a compass, I steered a good line to the point where the horses awaited me, a mile away.
The following morning again broke foggy, though not quite so thick; still I had only five geese at eight o’clock, when three packs coming well in, in rapid succession, afforded three gratifying doubles. Total, eleven geese.
Leaving the geese a few mornings’ peace, on February 5 the authors together occupied that hole at dawn. It proved a brilliant morning with a fine show of geese. As each pack came in, we took it in turns to give the word whether to fire or not. In the negative case, our eyes sank gently below the surface of the earth, and crouching down we heard the rush of wind-splitting pinions pass over and behind—probably to offer a fairer mark when they next wheeled round. Then two, and often three, great geese came hurtling downwards, to fall with resounding thuds behind. Few mistakes occurred this morning and scarce a chance was missed. But never could we succeed in working-in the two doubles at once! The cramped space forbade that. The hole, having been dug for one, gave no freedom of action for two guns; its floor, moreover, had now become a compound of sticky glutinous clay a foot deep, and that further hampered movements. Only one gun could work the second barrel.
After each shot, one of us jumped out and propped up the fallen geese as decoys. To leave them lying about all-ends-up has a disastrous effect.
Ere the “flight” ceased we had five-and-twenty greylags down around our hide, besides several others that had fallen at some distance, duly marked by the keepers who now galloped off to gather these—say two mule-loads of geese. The discovery of that lonely “sanding-place” had had a concrete reward.
