4.6 Berney, Ornithologist in Egypt and Palestine. [ist July 



that tliey make but little impression on the eye. All one sees 

 is the hfcless valley and the barren hills — a colour-scheme in brown 

 in two or three shades, with splashes and areas of grey-white, as 

 though put in by Nature to form a contrast. Evening is the 

 best time to view the scene, for then the horizontal rays of the 

 setting sun cast heavy-laden shadows, showing up each wadi on 

 the flat, each fold in the hills. All day strange ghostly whirl- 

 winds stalk ceaselessly, silently, from S.E. to N.W. across the 

 valley, always two or three stealing across the plain, sometimes 

 half a dozen. We see plenty of whirlwinds in the dry interior 

 of Australia, but they differ from those on the Jordan. The 

 former have a more pronounced waist, and are much more 

 bustling and disturbing in their course, while the latter are prac- 

 tically the same size all the way up, and appear to require but 

 httle wind to create them ; their movements and carriage are very 

 stately and straight. Their white colour (limestone dust), their 

 stealthy, silent progress, make them strangely weird. The 

 atmosphere over all is like no other I have ever seen, and I doubt 

 if a painter could quite catch it. It is due, I suppose, to the fine 

 dust hanging ever in suspension in the sunlight, combined with 

 the general soft brown colour of the landscape. No flower or 

 butterfly catches the eye from my eyry, no sound of small bird 

 catches the ear ; but in space below fly three Ravens, searching 

 the ground for scorpions, with which the country abounds — 

 fitting actors in such a scene. 



Dust ! I do not think there is any doubt about it — there is 

 no place in the world that can compare with the Jordan Valley 

 for dust. It is indescribable. It is from hoof-deep to fetlock- 

 deep, practically everywhere (I am writing of summer -time). 

 It is often impossible, when riding, to see the four men in the 

 preceding section, who are only a horse-length ahead of you. 

 Fortunately, Nature has, in this dust business, overreached 

 herself, and made a burlesque of the thing, so that men laugh and 

 joke at it. No wonder bird-hfe is scarce here. Although I was 

 right down against the Dead Sea on more than one occasion, I 

 regret I never had the opportunity of a dip in it — an experience 

 that would have been very interesting. From one who was more 

 fortunate than I, I learn that you can even stand upright in its 

 briny waters, and without effort float with the top of your shoulders 

 above water, and quite comfortably in that position read a book 

 or paper. It is not too good a medium to swim in, as every stroke 

 sends your shoulders and the upper part of your body shooting 

 above the surface. As theie is no life in the Sea, whose waters 

 contain 25 per cent, of salt, no Gulls or Terns hover over its 

 surface, no Waders follow its margin in search of food. There 

 is no tide, and therefore no clean sand or shingle on its shores, 

 which are covered with mud and silt left by the flood-waters of 

 the previous wet season. There is something unreal, uncanny, 

 in the whole place — the lifeless sea and dead valley — with its 

 shade temperature of 110° F. and 120" F. You are looking, it 



