The Return of the Fieldfare. 121 



a canopy of waving green. Tall globe-flowers mark 

 with their golden bells the devious course of the 

 rivulet. 



Under the shadow of a boulder, where to the 

 barren ground clings a thick growth of tiny Alpine 

 heaths, there is a quick rustle as of some moving 

 animal. Two lemmings graceful, gentle creatures, 

 suggestive half of dormouse, half of guinea-pig roll 

 over and over down the slope and frolic almost at 

 your feet. You lean down to watch them closer, but 

 the bright eyes catch sight of a moving figure; the 

 little fellows have vanished into their hole. 



A heap of broken egg-shells shows that grouse have 

 nested here, and no doubt plenty of willow-grouse 

 and ptarmigan are crouching even now among this 

 broken ground. 



The sound of footsteps disturbs a bird from the 

 clustering birches that spread their lace-like foliage 

 over the stream. There she goes ! A fieldfare. And 

 among the branches, not six feet from the ground, is 

 the nest. The four eggs in it are not distinguishable 

 from those of the blackbird. 



These are the second brood. The first, like those 

 of English thrushes, were hatched much earlier in the 

 season. 



The young birds will not see much of their native 

 land this year. But few weeks remain to them before 

 they must turn their faces to the south. 



It must be a hard climate from which they 



