ICELAND 93 



from which it proceeded, noticed two long-billed 

 birds, which I immediately recognised as the Black- 

 tailed God wit. A few of these fine waders breed 

 in the south-east of Iceland, and, being anxious to 

 obtain a pair, I spent more than an hour trying 

 to get within shot. Unlike most waders at their 

 breeding station, they were extremely shy. I 

 could have shot the cock several times, but wished 

 to reserve my first cartridge for the hen, as she 

 was by far the shyer of the two, and if I had shot 

 the male at once she would probably have de- 

 camped altogether. By and by she came within 

 about fifty yards, and a shot from my heavily 

 choked gun reached her. She was badly wounded 

 and, sailing away, fell in the marsh a good three 

 hundred yards away. It was an hour before I 

 found her lying dead, and I then returned and 

 without much difficulty secured the cock also. 



Thorgrimmer had given me the line of the trail, 

 but after riding for two hours more the pony and 

 I were both tired and hungry. It was only by 

 ascending a hill I saw our two white tents, and was 

 soon enjoying a good dinner and a rest. 



The Sorg, a river famous alike for trout and flies, 

 was close by, and next day Thorgrimmer showed 

 me one of the best swims for trout. As we walked 

 up the banks of the fine stream we saw many birds 

 now beginning to gather after breeding, as well as 

 many females with young nestlings. In one swell- 

 ing of the river were no less than twenty-two 

 Whooper Swans all old birds evidently not breeding 

 a big flock of Wigeon drakes, some Scaup and 

 Long-tails, and in the river itself I disturbed a 

 duck with a family of little ones which I am certain 



