92 ICE-BOUND ON KOLGUEV 



position a bit, so that my head was clear of the nest. I 

 was lying very still, watching a stone in the water which 

 served as an index to its height : and I do not think more 

 than five minutes had passed before she came, making 

 no more of me than if I had been a stone, and— whir-r-r-p, 

 — she had whipped close past my ear into the nest. 



You will recollect that we had found these birds on 

 Horno with young ones able to fly, and here on Kolguev 

 they had not yet hatched. Indeed these eggs were 

 quite fresh. 



A male snow-bunting in his breeding plumage is 

 certainly a most beautiful little bird. Unfortunately we 

 do not often see him like that in England, for the bird 

 does not nest with us, or only sparingly, in the extreme 

 north of Scotland. They are with us in winter in flocks, 

 but then the beautiful black-and-white of the male has 

 given place to more quiet colouring. Only when they 

 rise from the stubbles where they feed, your eye is 

 caught by a white flicker in the wings. 



A ringed plover which had her four eggs a few yards 

 off was not half so trusting. 



It was very cold, but this silly little bird kept me often 

 in most uncomfortable positions for long together, be- 

 cause she was so nervous. I should think she ran off 

 and on to her eggs almost as many times in ten minutes. 

 For she would settle down in quite a final way, but if I 

 moved a finger off she went running about a yard or 

 two away, and piping plaintively. Whether her eggs 



