Goose Friendships. There are some curious instances known of friendships formed by geese for both men and animals, apparently without any special reason. A goose in Cheshire once followed a farmer with so much persistency, at the plough, to the market, and in the house, that the farmer who had shown it no special kindness, superstitiously regarded it as a bird of ill omen and had it killed. A singular friendship grew up some years ago between a gander at York and an old man who lived near the farm to which the bird belonged. In this case the gander waddled off in the morning and spent the day with his human friend, returning at night to its home at the farm. One of the prettiest of these stories is that of a gander in Germany who used to lead a blind woman to church, taking the corner of her apron in his beak, and wait quietly in the churchyard until the service was over to conduct her home again. Another goose was known to have a great affection for soldiers and to regularly perform sentry duty, walking backwards and forwards for hours with his red-coated friends.
The Goose and the Dog. A more singular friendship than any perhaps, was that existing between a goose and a dog, thus described in "The Philosophical Magazine":—
"A species of goose, a native of Africa, belonging to a person in Scotland, was observed some time ago to pay particular attention to a dog which was chained up; a dog which had previously manifested a great dislike to poultry, never allowing them to come within reach of his chain. The goose, finding she had nothing to fear from her canine friend, would enter his kennel, in the centre of which, among the straw, she made her nest and deposited her eggs, which was not known till one of the family mentioned that the goose slept in the dog's bosom. The singularity of the circumstance led to an examination of the box, but not without the greatest reluctance on the part of the dog, who appeared determined to protect what was left to his charge. On removing the straw, five eggs were discovered in a fine bed of down and feathers. The dog was in the habit of going into his box with the greatest care, for fear of injuring the eggs."
The Maternal Instinct of the Goose. The Rev. C. A. Bury gives a pathetic illustration of the maternal instinct of the goose:—
"An old goose, that had been for a fortnight hatching in a farmer's kitchen was perceived on a sudden to be taken violently ill. She soon after left the nest, and repaired to an outhouse where there was a young goose of the first year, which she brought with her into the kitchen. The young one immediately scrambled into the old one's nest, sat, hatched, and afterwards brought up the brood. The old goose, as soon as the young one had taken her place, sat down by the side of the nest, and shortly after died. As the young goose had never been in the habit of entering the kitchen before, I know of no way of accounting for this fact than by supposing that the old one had some way of communicating her thoughts and anxieties, which the other was perfectly able to understand. A sister of mine, who witnessed the transaction, gave me the information in the evening of the very day it happened." The Rev. F. C. Morris tells of a goose which had a number of ducks' eggs placed with some of her own that she might hatch them, but which twice removed the ducks' eggs from the group, declining to sit on any but her own.
The Duck. The many varieties of Ducks might well occupy much more space than we can spare for them. The better known of these are the Wild Duck, the Common Duck, the Eider Duck, the Long-tailed Duck, the King Duck, the Canvas-back Duck, the Mallard, the Teal, the Widgeon, the Mandarin, and the Common Shelldrake.
An interesting illustration of the affection which ducks sometimes show towards each other is given by Dr. Stanley. He says:—"A pair of Muscovy Ducks were landed at Holyhead from a Liverpool vessel, returning from the coast of Africa. The male was conveyed to a gentleman's house, and put with other ducks, towards whom he evinced the utmost indifference: he evidently pined for the loss of his mate; but she was brought after a time, and let loose; he did not at first see her, but when, on turning his head, he caught a glimpse of her, he rushed towards her with a joy which was quite affecting. Nothing after that would induce him to quit her; he laid his beak upon hers, nestled his head under her wing, and often gazed at her with the greatest delight."
The Swan. The Swan is one of the most graceful of the bird kind, the purity of its colour and the beauty of its form as it glides along the river making it one of the prettiest sights in nature. There are several varieties of the swan, of which the Whooping Swan and the Common Swan of Europe, the Black Swan of Australia, and the Black-necked Swan of South America are the most familiar.
The Maternal Instinct of the Swan. The swan is assiduous in the care of her young, and shows great intelligence in providing for them as well as courage in their defence. She makes her nest in the grass among reeds; and in February begins to lay, depositing egg after egg, until there are six or eight. Dr. Latham mentions two females that for three or four years successively, agreed to associate, and had each a brood yearly, bringing up together about eleven young ones: they sat by turns, and never quarrelled. Captain Brown gives a remarkable illustration of the courage of a swan in defending her nest. He says:—"A female swan, while in the act of sitting, observed a fox swimming towards her from the opposite shore: She instantly darted into the water, and having kept him at bay for a considerable time with her wings, at last succeeded in drowning him; after which, in the sight of several persons, she returned in triumph. This circumstance took place at Pensy, in Buckinghamshire."
The Swan's Intelligence. Mr. Yarrell, in his "British Birds," mentions a remarkable instance of the sagacity and intelligence of the swan: "A female swan was sitting on four or five eggs. One day she was observed to be very busy in collecting weeds, grasses, and sticks, to raise her nest above its usual level. A kind-hearted farming man threw her some handfuls of brushwood, with which she most industriously raised her nest, and soon placed the eggs about two feet and a half above the old level. That night there came down a tremendous fall of rain, which flooded all the fields and cellars, and did great damage in the village. Man made no preparation—the bird did; and instinct prevailed over reason! Her eggs were above, and only just above, the water."