296 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS 



severe than one would expect. Of course, one must be 

 suitably clad. Abundance of warm woollen clothing' goes 

 without saying; and no part of one's flesh, except what is 

 actually necessary, must be exposed to the bite of the 

 frost. The only limit as regards nether garments, is the 

 capacity of the sea-boots ; and, as to upper gear, the 

 ability to handle the cripple-stopper. 



Whether the effect is caused by the relatively higher 

 temperature of the salt water, or by the extreme dryness 

 of the atmosphere owing to the entire absorption of all 

 moisture by the frost, or otherwise, I can state from ex- 

 perience that one suffers a great deal less from exposure to 

 cold in the lowest known temperature (as in January, 1881, 

 when for several days the thermometer stood from 2 to 7 

 below zero, and the salt water at once froze solid on the 

 setting-pole, and even on the rounded decks of the punt) 

 than is the case in the raw, chilling, marrow-piercing 

 winds of a "mild winter." Such degree of frost kills the 

 wind. 1 



1 On one of those Arctic days of January 1 88 1 , the tide being full at noon, 

 we were lying among the stranded ice close alongside the main shore, when 

 a robin flew out and joined us at lunch aboard the gunboat. Mindful of 

 good things, our red-breasted friend boarded us again on the morrow, 

 though we were then, owing to the daily variation in the tide, a full half- 

 mile off-shore. So well fared our guest that for a whole week thereafter he 

 flew out to us daily, even when we lay two miles off the land. The little 

 bird soon grew so fearless that he remained on board, a passenger, even 

 when we were moving about, working the boat at sea. 



