A NATURALIST'S ADVENTURES 



Monday, September 13 



Went ashore early in the morning with Baker. Walked 

 to the southern end of the spit and followed along the cliffs 

 to the first pinnacle in search of birds. Saw a few ducks 

 but could not get a shot. There was thin ice on the 

 shallow lagoons of the spit, and a heavy frost. The sun 

 rose clear over the hills, but was obscured in a few minutes 

 and remained so all day. It was pretty cold unless one 

 kept constantly in motion. 



There are hardly any land birds except ravens. I saw 

 one wagtail flying toward the point of the spit. Shot a 

 cormorant, which fell some distance out on the water — too 

 far to get it. I killed one golden plover and a marmot; 

 picked up a lot of skulls of dogs, a couple of jaws of walrus 

 teeth, and some old ethnologica. Among the ethnologica 

 added to the collection to-day were two bailing or drinking 

 cups made of horn of the mountain sheep. 



Tuesday, September 14 



About lunch time I went ashore on the point hoping to 

 find snipe or some other desiderata. There were none to 

 be seen. I walked down to the head of the spit where the 

 gulls congregate. The gulls left when they saw me, but 

 the ravens held their ground and did not seem to fear me 

 as long as I sat still and made no sudden movement. They 

 would fly quite close to my head, and look at me with 

 apparent curiosity, uttering now and then a hoarse cry or 

 call to some other raven flying near at hand, hopping 

 forward a step or two, then pulling off a piece of moss from 

 the stones and jumping slightly into the air, sometimes 

 taking a good-sized stone in the beak, perhaps to see if any 

 food might be concealed under it. Occasionally one would 

 find a morsel and another would try to take it out of his 

 bill, the lucky one seeming to hold it out temptingly, but 

 firmly, to tantalize his covetous neighbor. In starting to 

 fly they would strike the ground with their feet two or 

 three times to gain an impetus. 



Leaving the ravens to their antics, I walked up the hill- 

 side to an old burial place where I found a broken skull of 

 a fox and a pretty good Eskimo cranium. Here I saw the 



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