THE LITTLE BUNTING 103 



others ; but what was still more curious and interesting 

 was their behaviour during the raid we made upon them. 

 After repeated shots, bringing down several of their 

 numbers, the remainder would get up, settle on the 

 railings, on the adjoining house-roof, or perch upon the 

 slender branches of a willow-tree hard by. 



The same day I saw again the barn-swallow, which 

 seemed to be the only representative of its species at 

 Ust-Zylma. I watched a flock of shore-larks and Lap- 

 land buntings on the stubble. As a rule, they ran along 

 the ground like the wagtails, but I also marked both 

 birds hopping for some distance. 



For the first time, on Sunday, 30th of May, the Pet- 

 chora was free from ice. The steady march-past of the 

 frozen blocks had lasted just one week. The wind that 

 day was warm, blowing from the south, but the sky was 

 cloudy. A peasant brought us three young Siberian 

 jays, aid another rowed across the river, the bearer of a 

 ruff, the first we had yet seen ; and of some eggs — six 

 duck's eggs, doubtless those of the pintail, and four of 

 the hooded crow. The following day the warm south wind 

 continued, with sunshine and cloud. We took a lono- 

 round in the valley, where a few days before we had seen 

 so many Siberian chiffchaffs. The blue-throated warblers 

 were singing lustily, but we failed to hear or see the bird 

 we were specially in search of As we were making our 

 way home, through a swamp thickly studded over with 

 willows, birch, and fir, I heard a song quite new to me. 

 It closely resembled that of the yellow-hammer, whose 

 note is popularly supposed to say " Lit, lit, lit, little bread 

 and no cheese." This bird cried " Lit, lit, lit, in as tay." 

 I shot the strange songster, and brought down my first 

 little bunting {^Emberiza pusilla, Pall.). Twice during the 

 day we visited the marshy spot, upon which forty-eight 



