NORWEGIAN BIRD NOTES 



from the upper deck we were able to make out a 

 tiny bird far away, which later we saw to be a 

 wheatear, barely topping the waves as it beat 

 its lonely way against the wind. It appeared to 

 be struggling to cross the ship's course, and at 

 length it succeeded, dropping wearily on deck 

 and taking refuge beneath the nearest chair. 



It remained there all day, and we fear its 

 assisted passage availed it little, for its destination 

 was plainly England, and we were taking it back 

 to Norway. In the morning it had gone. 



It is midnight when the ship reaches St av anger, 

 with its quaint red, blue, and yellow wooden 

 houses built far into the fjord. In the wan 

 light gulls flit over the silent harbour, and here 

 we note for the first time the common gull mingling 

 with the more familiar herring and lesser black- 

 backed. All through the wilderness of rocky 

 islands, backed by the distant ranges of snow- 

 capped mountains, which lie between Stavanger 

 and Bergen, the common gull is rarely long absent, 

 and later, in all the inland lakes, it comes to be 

 one of our most familiar companions. 



At Bergen, noted for its excellent museum 

 and for its fish market where, from a line of tanks, 

 the purchaser makes his selection from living fish 

 of divers sorts as they swim hither and thither, 

 and bears it home still flapping, in basket or bass, 

 or on a wire attachment, there is little to remark 

 in the way of bird-life. Sparrows and starlings 

 haunt the streets, and the ubiquitous gulls move 

 amidst the shipping, but save for the note of a 

 willow- wren from some distant trees, and a white 

 wagtail tripping on the stones of the quay, we 

 find sparse material for the note-book. 



An examination of this latter bird shows at 

 once the difference between the white wagtail 

 and our own familiar pied race. The bird, long 



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