42 A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 



lot of time in trying to stalk a bird which turned out 

 to be my alert friend, the Siberian thrush, again. I 

 was climbing up to what appeared to be a fieldfare's 

 nest, when, unexpectedly, a long beak like a bee's 

 sting darted over the brim, and instead of the original 

 architect, the grey poll of a wood sandpiper popped up. 

 Near the same place Vassilli found a clutch of eggs of 

 the same species laid upon the ground. In all the 

 nests found by Mr. Popham the male bird was on 

 the eggs ; but in this case Vassilli shot the sitting bird 

 for identification, and it turned out to be the female, 

 thus proving that the hen does take some part in the 

 work of incubation. 



The following day — 19th June — was cold and 

 squally, with a southerly wind. We travelled past 

 miles and miles of willow forests. The banks were 

 shaved away sharply by the recent floods, and the 

 roots and branches of broken trees stuck through the 

 debris. All along the Yenesei nothing is more striking 

 than this prodigal litter of driftwood. Scores of acres 

 of forest must be washed away every year and carried 

 down to the sea. Much of the flotsam is stranded on 

 the beaches and islands of the estuary, but more drifts 

 into the Arctic Ocean, and after travelling to and fro 

 for months or years is finally thrown up on the coasts 

 of Novaya Zemlya, or else carried in the ice right 

 across the Pole to Greenland. At midday we stopped 

 for half an hour at Igarka, a typical riverside settle- 

 ment. The place was a trapping as well as a fishing 

 station, and a man came on board with fox and martin 

 skins for sale. A few immature common gulls and a 



