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making from one sheet of water to another, as their 

 cousins, the Golden-eyes, and all other surface-feed- 

 ing and diving ducks will do. On the contrary, 

 they keep exactly above the line of the winding 

 waters, adopting a swinging motion, and passing 

 to left and right in the flight over the stream in all 

 its windings. The male Harlequin has a peculiar 

 cry, not unlike that of the common Lapwing in 

 spring. 



Another very interesting bird whose acquaintance 

 I made for the first time was Barrow's Golden-eye, 

 a larger and more handsome creature than our own 

 Golden-eye, but similar in its habits. They were 

 very tame, both males and females, and a week later 

 at Myvatn I caught two with a fly-rod and shot 

 one with a catapult. 



In these northern wilds I found the catapult 

 not the clumsy round-elastic weapon of the country 

 schoolboy, but the scientific and small, square- 

 elastic tweaker a great aid in obtaining a few 

 specimens where birds were numerous and fairly 

 tame; in fact, I never cared to disturb the whole 

 place by firing off a gun unless absolutely necessary 

 to procure some rare and shy species. With 

 the little silent weapon I secured during this 

 trip one Golden Plover, one Long-tailed Drake, 

 one Barrow's Golden-eye, one Ptarmigan, four 

 Purple Sandpipers, three Dunlins, and four Red- 

 necked Phalaropes. I nearly got a female Black 

 Scoter a tough bird to kill but she recovered 

 after being knocked down, and commenced diving, so 

 my other shots with the catapult were unavailing. 



Late in the evening of June 29th we made a 

 start for Myvatn (the Fly Lake), said to be the great 



