244 OUT WITH THE BIRDS 



space in the tunnel, and the heat of his body is 

 well conserved by the loose, dry, snowy covering. 

 In emerging from the bed in the morning, or 

 when disturbed, he never comes out where he en- 

 tered, but makes a burst upwards from his posi- 

 tion at the end of the tunnel. 



The dormitory of a flock of sharp-tails is worth 

 visiting. For a night-roost, they usually choose 

 some scrubby, well-sheltered hollow where the 

 snow is deep and soft. It is essential that the 

 snow must not be subject to drifting, as other- 

 wise the flock might be imprisoned during the 

 night by a change of wind packing the covering 

 over their heads. In the midst of a network of 

 chain-like tracks, are scattered the holes where 

 the birds entered or emerged. Here a tunnel has 

 fallen in from the too-violent struggles of the ex- 

 cavator; there a long swish shows where a bird 

 alighted; or again a track ends abruptly with a 

 round, wing imprint on each side of it, where the 

 maker of the trail took wing. Unlike their quail 

 cousins, they never roost bunched closely in a 

 mass, but always remain scattered several feet 

 apart. It would seem that they thus sacrifice 

 warmth to secure safety, for the scattered covey 

 with its outposts must be a more difficult prob- 



