The wind was coming from the south, and for that reason the hunters had landed north of the sandbar.
“Mr. Barker,” asked the boy, “can geese and ducks smell the hunter!”
“I don’t know,” replied the trapper. “I never thought of it and never heard it said that they could. Moose and deer and wolves can smell a man a mile off, and they can hear a man’s talk a quarter of a mile away; but I don’t think that birds are guided by scent at all.”
“Do the sleeping geese put somebody on guard!” the lad inquired.
“I don’t think they have any system of guards, but some of them are always standing with their heads up, and the old ganders are most watchful. If one goose becomes alarmed, they all go.
“You must only whisper now. I think we are getting pretty close to them. Step carefully, so you don’t break any sticks. All wild creatures take alarm at the snapping of sticks. I suppose they think a wolf or some other beast of prey is after them.”
The trapper went cautiously to the edge of the timber and looked down stream.
“I can’t see the sandbar yet,” he told his companion. “We must creep along a little farther. We have to be ready at daybreak, for soon after they will all go to feed on some shallow water, or most likely on some stubble-field beyond the bluff.
“These Canada geese feed much like tame geese, they like to pick the ears of grain out of the stubble and they like all kinds of young green stuff. In early spring they are very fond of grazing on young winter wheat and rye.”
“Couldn’t you tame them?” asked the boy.