A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 35 



if a camera had been at hand it would have been easy 

 to photograph him as he peeped over the brim. 



On my way back to the ship I passed through the 

 village of Turukhansk, which was even more desolate 

 and poverty stricken than that of Monastir. All the 

 inhabitants were down by the waterside, unloading 

 flour sacks and revelling in the excitement caused by 

 the arrival of the first steamer of the summer. We 

 understood this excitement better when we had lived for 

 two months on the river without news of the outer 

 world. 



In the course of the afternoon we weighed anchor 

 and proceeded down the river, putting into a firewood 

 station in the evening. I went ashore with Vassilli, but 

 it was a cold, wet night, and there were hardly any birds 

 to be seen. I walked for more than a verst into the 

 forest and saw nothing but a few bramblings and one 

 cuckoo. Presently, however, a thrush, which at first 

 sight I took to be a redwing, dived ofi" a nest built in 

 the angle of a fir-tree branch about twelve feet from the 

 ground. A minute later, and both birds were fluttering 

 round me. I shot one, and to my surprise found that 

 it was a cock pale thrush {Turdus obscurus). I 

 climbed up to the nest, which contained four eggs lying 

 on a grass lining like that of a redwing. As time was 

 short, I could not wait to secure the other bird, but 

 hastened back to the ship. On the way I met Vassilli, 

 who brought a nest and five eggs similar to those I had 

 found, and also a female pale thrush, which he had shot 

 at the nest. Vassilli had been using duck-shot and had 

 fired at a fifteen-foot range, so that it was impossible to 



